Gig

A couple of people invited her over to join their tables (of parties in progress), but she declined. They were trying to do a good deed for the holidays (rescue the solitary and suffering), but she was simply having a drink, making a list, and checking it twice. "If you knew ... if you only knew," she whispered, looking over at the phone as it buzzed and buzzed (ignoring it). All of the children had taken over the gig in various pieces and parts (while their parents remained the immortal faces of Christmas - he jolly and climbing up rooftops, she jolly and cranking out cookies). Claire Kringle, the most analytic and (frankly) judgmental of the children, took the Naughty and Nice duties and could be relied upon to see it all done. "But no one should have to do this crap entirely sober," she sighed, polishing off a cranberry martini and flagging the server for another.