“You see,” Sean groused, cutting a swath through an almost-impenetrable crowd of last-minute gift buyers. He waved toward the raised dais where Santa held court, surrounded by diminutive female elves in short, fringed green skirts. “Have you ever seen a line like this? You'll be here for hours. How do you plan on managing?”
“I brought the beach chair,” Erin crowed, tugging the mass of canvas and poles out of its sack and setting it up on the floor. “I'll just scoot along as needed.”
“The kids will never tolerate this,” he warned, far from convinced.
“I have them under control,” Ellen replied, indicating her knitting bag. “Snacks, toys, and even a couple of defunct cell phones whose games are still intact.”
They took their places in line.
“Sean, your scowl is giving me indigestion,” Er
