In the entryway, I reached for my keys. They weren’t there. I grabbed my phone, fingers shaking, ready to call the police, when Hayden froze. “Wait,” he said. “There’s a note.”
It was propped against a gift beneath the tree, written in careful, uneven letters.
She had written to Santa. She said she knew how hard his job must be and how tired the reindeer probably felt after flying all night. She explained that she had gone to the abandoned house across the street so they could rest. She had brought blankets and warm clothes, and she’d packed sandwiches—chicken and vegetable—so everyone would have a choice. At the bottom, she mentioned my car keys, just in case Santa wanted to use our car for a little while if the reindeer needed a break.
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