The clamor on the roof would have been alarming on any other night. Instead of panicking, Zoe put the kettle on.
When the man crawled out of the fireplace, she smiled. “How’s it going this year?”
“Oh, not bad. Kids asleep?'”
“Took three stories and two glasses of warm milk.”
“Ha, fine, fine.” He fished some wrapped presents from his bag. “There we are.”
She gestured at the couch, as she did every year. “Sit, stay for a moment. I’m brewing hot tea.”
“Oh, no, thank you,” he answered, as he did every year. “Mrs. Claus will be expecting me…”