I tune her out after the word authorities, as I do not respect authorities.

“There’s a hole in my wall!”

I zip back to attention. Kelly’s livid face appears on the screen, and it’s better than a trip to the spa. Her anger cleanses my pores and irrigates the trenches in my universally underestimated brain. She’s got a massive hole in her wall, and the buffalo defecated all over her couch. I’m overwhelmed with good tidings and joy—Hall’s succeeding with flying colors, filling me all the way up with holiday cheer.

“All right, now put the water buffalo back wherever you found it,” I tell him.

Hall waits expectantly.

“Oh, right. Make my wish come true.” Hall grabs the remote and changes the channel now that my joyride is over. “What else can you do? Can you communicate with the dead?” I visualize a tea party with Cary Grant (I think he ought to have been my true love, but alas, the age gap was too vast and we’re ships in the night), Leonardo da Vinci (he’s there to paint my portrait), and a velociraptor.

“No.”

“Establish world peace?”

“Afraid not.”

“Start a war?”

“No. And I can’t do mind control, emotional manipulation, or create a real-life Jurassic Park, either. Those are all out-of-bounds operations, as included in Section: Primarily to Avoid Narrative Scrutiny, Clause: But Why Doesn’t He Just.” He draws a breath, looking grave. “The most dire of consequences would await me for even attempting the Number One Most Forbidden Thing, which is to bring back the McRib when it isn’t in season. Such is the corporate might of the Golden Arches.”

Interesting. “Why can you say yes to some wishes but not to others?”

“For the most part, magic is left to my discretion, and I can grant your wishes if those wishes seem to bring you joy.” His gaze flicks to the television. “But I may reject a wish if it would be damaging to history, the spacetime continuum, that sort of thing. Or if it would cause real harm, physical or otherwise, to others. Some wishes I might not personally reject, but holiday magic would, for unknown reasons. Which isn’t something I knew before I arrived here, but that information’s just been conveniently dropped into my head now that I’m in need of it.” He stops on the local weather channel, leaning forward.

The weatherman’s bedecked in a reindeer tie and a headband with antlers. “Look at this man, wearing his little tie and his little antlers on television,” Hall says, utterly charmed. As he watches, the same tie and antlers appear on his person.

From over on the coffee table, my phone lights up, and I browse through a crop of texts from Mom that I haven’t known how to respond to.

How are you doing

We love you very much

Your dad loves you too

Don’t forget, Grandma and Grandpa’s house, December 18 at 5:00!!!!

Ahhh, the holidays with Bettie Watson, who isn’t impressed with any of her grandchildren but especially not with me, the stain on her legacy. She’s an EGOT hoarder who worked for everything she’s got, and here I am just waltzing around with her famous name, not living up to my potential. Which is quite a trip, because I’m supposedly a millionaire. What more does she want from me? I do love seeing Grandpa, though, who adores me to pieces, and who I avoid at all costs because I want him to keep on adoring me. I wish we could only go every other year, break up the pressure with trips to see Granny and Grandad Hughes in Cornwall, but my paternal grandparents feel our brood is too large and too loud for their small cottage.