Conrad Hamilton stepped out of Albertino’s Family Restaurant and Pub into the early evening chill and smiled into the darkness. His usual Christmas Eve routine always brought him that special glow that only comes from crushing the hopes and dreams of others, attacking whatever they choose to believe in, and making their lives miserable.

Of course, because of the time of year, he also took great delight in destroying whatever remnants of the Christmas spirit they might be able to resurrect after spending a year trapped in a world made by Conrad and his ilk. And a small, mean, miserable world it was – without hope, without faith, without meaning … and all too depressingly real.

“I gotta say I’m very disappointed in you, Conrad.”

He looked to his right and saw a young man wearing a black wide-brimmed fedora and a charcoal grey overcoat. The coat was open, revealing a gray pinstripe suit, a black shirt and a bright red tie.

“Do I know you?” Conrad made sure to add just the right amount of sarcasm to his tone. The other man shook his head.

“No, but I know you. I just wish I didn’t.” He looked at Conrad like he was something he had stepped in and then scraped off his shoe. “Going off on Sister Mary Ignatius for five minutes about how stupid her religion is? She wishes you a Merry Christmas and you take the opportunity to crack wise for five fuckin’ minutes about how everything she believes in is a lie and a myth and a fairy tale. I gotta admit, that takes serious cogliones, even for a cacasenno like you. You’re lucky Vito didn’t take the baseball bat out from under the bar and start swinging — olpisca la vostra testa dentro, you know what I’m sayin’?”

Wordlessly, Conrad shook his head. The younger man smiled. “You’re lucky he didn’t bash your head, doin’ that in his place.” The smile dropped off his face, replaced with an emptiness that held a touch of malice. “Course, maybe if he let himself treat your face like a baseball, he mighta knocked some sense into you. But I guess that’s our job.”

Conrad took a step back, and decided to make an early night of it.

“Excuse me,” he said, and turned to go, only to find himself face to chest with another man, dressed the same way as the first (except his tie was green).

“Excuse you?” The second man said with a grin. He looked over Conrad’s shoulder. “Look how polite he is, Paulie. All of the sudden, he’s got manners. Five minutes ago he’s sneering at a nun and pissing all over her faith just for wishing him well, and now he wants us to excuse him.”

“There ain’t no excuse for him, Gino,” Paulie replied. “None at all.”

“You got that right.” Gino’s big hands wrapped around the lapels of Conrad’s expensive camel’s hair topcoat, and he lifted the older man into the air and held him there for a few second before turning and slamming up against the wall. Conrad had never felt more helpless in his life.

“Wha … what are you going to do to me?” His voice was high, and shook with fear.

“What, me?” Gino pulled him away from the wall and shoved him into it again. “Me, I ain’t gonna do nothin’ to you. I want to, believe me, after the way you went after that nun. But she smiled and let you have your say, ‘cause she knows a cafone like you don’t know how the world really works. If she’s gonna let you walk, well, who am I to do any different? I’m not a … what’s that word Lepke and Bugsy used to use all the time, Paulie? You know the one.”

“Putz?”

“Yeah, that’s it. I’m not a putz like you, I know better than to argue with a nun. No, I ain’t gonna hurt you ... much.”

Conrad turned his head toward Paulie, and Paulie looked up at him and grinned.

“Me either, as much as I’d like to. Oh, not that it ain’t temptin’, but you went and did two things tonight that pissed off my boss, and what he wants to do to you makes whatever I wanna do to you come in so far from first that the race was over and the horses had left the track long before I could reach the finish line.”

“Your … your boss?” Conrad felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. “Wha … what did I do?”

Gino let him go, and he slid down the rough wooden wall and landed on the ground, the snow soaking the bottom of his coat. Paulie and Gino looked down at him, then at each other, and then took a step back.

“You lied to a little girl and you took her joy away.”

The voice came from another man who stepped up and stared down at Conrad. He was dressed like the other two but older, with a little grey hair at the temples and a few laugh lines etched into his face. But he wasn’t laughing now. Instead, he was looking at Conrad like he was a bug, and weighing the pros and cons of just squishing him under his heel.

“I lied?”

“Yes, Conrad, you lied.” The man lifted a gloved finger, and suddenly Conrad slid back up the wall until his face was level with the newcomer. “On Christmas Eve, you went and told a little girl that Santa wasn’t real. On Christmas FUCKING EVE, Conrad! Do you know what that means?”

Terrified, he shook his head, and the man’s finger twitched. Conrad was slammed back into the wall hard, and the finger pressed into his chest hard and held him there.

“Don’t you try lying to ME! You knew damned well what it meant. Carly Hart was looking forward to a night of anticipation, watching and waiting for the guy with the reindeer and the presents to slide down the chimney and bring her something special, as a thank-you for believing in something bigger than what she can see around her every freaking day. You KNEW that. You could see it all in her eyes, and you HAD to stop at the family’s table during their traditional Christmas Eve dinner on your way out and LIE to her, like it was your civic duty!”

“What did I say?”

“What, are you deaf? You told her Santa wasn’t real! You told her it was all a scam, and then you tore away all of the things that made the season special to her, one at a time. You took away her faith and left her crying and broken, and then you walked outta there whistling, like you done something good!”

The man leaned forward and put his nose and roared in his face.

“What’s the matter, Conrad? Couldn’t find a puppy to kick, so you had to take it out on a nun … and a little girl?”

“But … but it’s not a lie,” Conrad sputtered, not able to look away. The man’s eyes narrowed. “There is no Santa Claus! It’s all a hoax to make people believe in things that aren’t real.”

“Not real?” The man took a step back and his eyes flared. “You think you know real? You think you know what real is? I’M Santa Claus, you jerk … and you just made my naughty list! Made it? Hell, you ARE it!”

The man let Conrad fall back to the ground, and turned away.

“Stupid, goddamned … scassacazzo! Think you know everything, but you know nothing!”

“You’re … Saint Nick?”

“Do I look like a saint to you? No, I’m Nick D’Angelo. I’m filling in for the Saint because the Creator needs him for something else right now. When i died, God picked me to take his place, and that’s what I’m doing. I like my work, a lot. But when you come out and say the Claus isn’t real, that means right now you’re sayin’ I ain’t real either, and nobody tells Nick D’Angelo that he’s nothing. Nobody! You got that?”

“I’m sorry,” Conrad squeaked. “I … didn’t know!”

“Oh, really?” Nick turned around and roared at the man on the ground. “You sounded pretty damned sure when you ripped that little girl’s Christmas to shreds! And not just that Christmas, but every Christmas from now on. No more happy memories for her at Christmastime … all because you had to be a big shot.”

Nick waved at Gino and Paulie, and they hauled Conrad up from the ground and held him between them.

“You people ... you think that faith is a bad thing, that believing in something that's not right there in front of you is wrong. But what you don’t get is that sometimes we gotta believe in what we don’t see.” He looked the man in the eyes and saw only confusion and fear. “Look, people gotta have faith. We need to believe that things are gonna get better, that one person can make a difference, that tomorrow’s gonna be better than today. We GOT to. Because if we don't ... if we can’t believe that things are gonna be better — if everybody is so damned sure they can’t make a difference — they won’t lift a finger to fix things. Because after all, what’s the point of doing anything if it means NOTHING?”

“Part of being Santa means keeping that part of people alive until they need it most. That’s my job. And people like you make everybody’s lives a little less … magical. You try to take everybody's faith away, like you did with that nun." Nick's eyes narrowed. "And the worst of you like to go out of your way to hurt people who believe. Just like you hurt that little girl — and enjoyed it.”

Conrad looked down, and he realized that Nick was right. He had enjoyed hurting that little girl. Was he really that small inside? Was his truth so important that he had to seek out people and attack what they believed, at any cost? And the worst part of it all was that, in the end, he was WRONG -- about Santa Claus, and maybe about everything else, too. And if this D’Angelo guy really was Santa, then Conrad HAD lied to her — and enjoyed it when she cried.

‘Oh God,’ he thought, forgetting for an instant that he didn't believe in one. ‘To do that to a child? To enjoy doing that to an innocent little girl? What am I? What have I become?’

Nick saw the tears falling from Conrad’s eyes. So he looked into the man’s soul and saw something he hadn’t expected to see. A spark of shame, a feeling of remorse … and a need to make things right.

But there was something else there … a ghost of Christmas past he hadn't noticed before. His anger fading, Nick saw something he should have seen long ago, and he saw the chance to put things right.

Still, before he could fix the past, he had to fix the present. He waved at Gino and Paulie, and they released Conrad’s arms.

“You know what I’m thinking?” Nick asked. Conrad shook his head again, and Nick’s voice softened a little. “I’m thinking your ego wrote you a big check, and you went and cashed it with that girl’s happiness. I’m thinking she deserves an apology ... and a refund. What do you think?”

Conrad nodded, and Nick nodded back.

“Okay, then,” he said. “But as much as I hate to admit it, this job calls for a more … traditional approach.”

Taking a step back, he pointed at both wise guys.

“Badda — bing …”

They shrunk to half of their former height, and their clothing blurred and changed to something medieval and quasi-Germanic. There were tights and vests and brightly colored lederhosen, and caps and shoes with long curly toes. Both men reached up to find their ears had become pointed, and the two looked at each other and shrugged. It was the boss’s play, just like it always was. They had faith in Nick to set things right, so they’d follow his lead the way they always did.

Nick smiled, then made two fists and pointed his thumbs at himself.

“Badda-BOOM!”

His whole body shimmered and reformed itself into the very image of a traditional Santa Claus, beard and suit and belt and boots and all. He had a huge bag slung over his shoulder, and he winked at Conrad before turning and heading for the restaurant door. Conrad and the two elves followed.

Inside, everyone was frozen in mid-motion, as if time had stopped. And it had … for everyone except the little girl Conrad had hurt.

“Santa!!” she shouted, and ran over to where Nick was standing. She wrapped her arms around his leg and hugged him tight, and Nick dropped down to her level and gathered her in his arms.

“I knew you were real! I knew it! That man said you weren’t, but I knew!”

Nick gave her a big hug and a smile. “I had to come by to make sure you still believed. And to tell this one he was wrong.”

Conrad stepped forward.

“I’m sorry, Carly,” he said softly. “I honestly thought Santa wasn’t real. I wanted something a long time ago, and I kept asking for it year after year, and it never happened. So I thought he didn’t exist. But I see now he does, and I’m very sorry I hurt you.”

She let go of Nick and walked slowly over to Conrad. She looked up into his eyes.

“Are you really sorry?” He nodded, and Carly could see that it was true. So she gave him a hug.

“That’s okay, Mister. Everybody’s wrong sometimes.” Conrad felt tears start to rise, and he gave her a hug back. Nick looked at the two of them for a few seconds, thinking about what he’d seen in Conrad’s head, and then spoke.

“Carly,” he rumbled in his oh-so-jolly voice. “As long as I’m here now, is there a Christmas present you want more than anything else? Something you’ve wished for but never gotten, like Conrad here?”

Reluctantly, Carly nodded.

“I just thought you couldn’t give it to me for some reason,” she replied, “and that was okay. Sometimes you can’t get what you want, and you need to learn to be happy with what you’ve got. Mommy and Daddy taught me that.”

Nick turned to Conrad.

“And you, Conrad? Do you still want what you wished for, all those years ago?”

“Yes,” he said, hanging his head. “More than anything. But I know it’s impossible, now.”

“You know that, do you?” Nick looked down at Carly and smiled. “Here he goes again, ‘knowing’ things that just aren’t so. Have a little faith! Believe that something good is right around the corner!”

Conrad looked up, surprised, just as Nick took the bag off of his shoulder and slung it over Conrad’s head. It swallowed him completely, from head to toe. Carly watched, fascinated, as Santa pulled the bag off of Conrad to reveal a little girl … one that looked exactly like her!

“OMG!!” Carly shrieked and launched herself forward to hug her new sister. “How did you know?”

“I know what every little boy and girl puts on their Christmas list,” he replied, “and you’ve been asking for a twin sister for so long. Unfortunately, I can’t make a life, so I could never bring you what you asked for. But when Conrad’s Christmas wish from long ago turned out to be wanting to be a little girl, it just seemed right to give you both what you needed.”

Nick bent down and looked into Conrad’s eyes. “Was I wrong?”

Conrad — now Connie — smiled and shook her head.

“Thank you, Santa,” she said. “I’ll never stop believing, I promise.”

“And I’ll make sure she keeps her promise,” Carly said, still hugging Connie. “That’s what sisters are for.”

“Good.” He stood up and waved at the table. Another place setting appeared with a child-sized meal and a bright red coat hanging from the back of the chair.

“Santa, why is everybody frozen?” Carly said. “It’s not that cold.”

Nick had to laugh. Unfortunately, it came out “Ho, ho, ho!” and he found himself flinching inside.

“Faith means believing without proof, Carly,” he replied, “and I needed to keep everyone from seeing me give you your present early, because if they saw me, they wouldn’t need to have faith that I was real because they'd KNOW. See? So I stopped time until after you got your sister … and she got her wish, too.”

He stood up and looked down at the two. They turned and faced him.

“By the time you get home tonight, there will be two beds in Carly’s room, and two dressers … but you’ll have to share a closet. And a bathroom!”

“That’s part of being a twin, Santa.” Carly smiled. “And a sister. Sharing everything! Right, sis?”

Connie took her hand and squeezed. “Right … sis.”

“So take your places, hurry now!” They scrambled to sit down, Connie forgetting to smooth her skirt under her and having to get up and do it again when Carly pointed it out.

Nick stood up straight, and put his finger next to his nose.

“Merry Christmas!!” he said with a smile, and disappeared as everything started moving forward again. It was as if Carly had never been hurt, because in the end she hadn’t, really. She knew that the man her sister used to be wasn’t even a memory to anyone but her, and now she would have someone to play with and grow up with and share her life with forever.

“Thank you, Santa,” she whispered, at the same time Connie did. And they looked at each other and giggled.

“Twins,” their Mom said with a smile. “Always with their secrets.”

“Always,” Connie said, smiling back.

Outside, the two elves and their Santa rematerialized. Nick looked up at the night sky and sighed.

“You know what this reminds me of? The night I ‘borrowed’ old man Jackson’s Studebaker and went for a drive with Maria Spinetti. We just hit the road and drove for miles into the night with the windows wide open, even though it was Christmas and the cold air whipped through the car like nobody’s business.”

The two elves nodded, half wondering when the boss was going to turn them back. But the sound of sleigh bells and a stomp of a hoof made them realize they weren’t getting their Italian suits back any time soon. They turned to see the big red sleigh with the eight reindeer all lined up in the parking lot, and watched Nick climb into the driver’s seat, still in his traditional Santa form. He picked up the reins and looked over at them.

“What?” he asked, cocking his head. “It’s Joy to the World time, right? Can you think of a better time to go joyriding? Besides, the mall is still open, and I can’t wait to see the looks on the faces of those last-minute shoppers when we give ‘em a fly-by.” The two hesitated, and Nick gave ‘em both a smile that was pure D’Angelo, so they could see the boss they knew.

“Come on, boys — let’s grab a little sky and give everybody a Christmas to remember. Whaddaya say?”

Paulie looked at Gino for a split second, then grinned and shouted “SHOTGUN!” before running to the other side of the sled and jumping into the front seat. Gino slipped in behind him with a frown and gave him a half-hearted dope slap on the back of the head before sighing and letting his smile grow.

“Okay boss, we’re in. Open her up and let’s see what this baby can do!”

Nick looked at his elves, and snapped the reins.

And the three wise guys disappeared into the silent night.