She particularly loved her job right now, when she had a few minutes to reflect on the success of the Christmas advertising campaign she’d spearheaded the year before. She’d even made her boss smile, and that had only happened twice in the whole time she’d been VP of Marketing for Dream Toys.

She’d spent the past two days at head office on Fifth Avenue, listening to presentation after presentation, drinking endless cups of bad coffee to keep herself awake. A significant amount of their business was now online, and it was the work of Alix and her team that had helped drive sales steadily upward. What a year they’d had! While many businesses were struggling, theirs was soaring, thanks to careful curating of their range and Alix’s skill at spotting a winner and making it top of the wish list of every child.

Her year had culminated in the launch of the campaign for the holiday season, and that was the reason she was here now, heading to the awards dinner.

Campaign of the Year.

At work they called her the Queen of Christmas. They barreled into her office, asking her questions about the holiday season, seeking her opinion. It made Alix laugh to think they considered her an expert on all things festive. She knew toys, but that was it. Everything she knew about the holiday itself she’d learned from watching and listening. She had no personal experience of a family Christmas. She didn’t know how it felt to gather together as a family to celebrate. Her parents had divorced when she was six, and for a few painful years after that she’d been shuttled between them like an unwanted Christmas gift. If you take her this year, I’ll have her next year. She was pretty sure if they could have sent her back for a refund, they would have done it.

Christmas had been a tense time for all until the year they’d both had to travel abroad for work and had asked Christy’s mother to take Alix.

In Christy’s warm, cozy home, she’d experienced her first family Christmas, and the fact that it hadn’t been with her own family didn’t matter. She’d sat under their enormous tree and stared in wonder at the glittering ornaments. She’d helped in the kitchen, eaten at the table, played games and joined them on long winter walks. She’d even had her own stocking: red with a bow and stuffed with thoughtful presents.

Christy’s mother, Elizabeth, had treated her like her own, and only once did Alix overhear her talking about it.

That poor girl. Some people shouldn’t have children.

It was the first of many Christmases she’d spent with them. Thanks to that experience, she considered herself an expert on how to create the perfect Christmas for children.

She ignored the slightly hollow feeling inside her and pointed her mascara wand at the mirror.

“You, Alix Carpenter, are a big fake. Let’s hope you’re never found out.”

She felt a wave of exhaustion.