“So what do you know about Cailleach?” asked Mrs. Claus.
Brynjar poured himself another glass of whisky and took a sip.
“She is very possessive and pushy about her agenda. Winter is her domain and she loathes Christmas,” said Brynjar.
“We got that much. She has been publishing off-color pictures of my husband,” said Mrs. Claus.
“So you’re Mrs. Santa? I saw the pictures. Ouch,” said Brynjar.
“Yes, I am Mrs. Claus. Obviously we need to find her and put a stop to this.”
“When you find Mr. Claus then feel free to send those ladies my way,” said Brynjar with a throaty laugh and took a sip of whisky.
Mrs. Claus shook her head.
“We’ll see what we can do, but finding them is key right now,” said Leroy.
“I’ve heard rumors, but they are just rumors, mind you,” said Brynjar.
“C’mon, man. The clock is ticking,” said Leroy.
“Alright, relax. She has repeatedly tried to extend her territory to the Western coast of Norway claiming that Nordic traditions and Christianity are diluting the celebration of Winter,” said Brynjar.
“So what about the rumors?” asked Leroy.
“I was getting there. You guys sure are an impatient bunch. I’ve heard that she was going to try a different approach involving social media and ruining reputations rather than trying to muscle in on new territory,” said Brynjar.
“And we definitely know who her target is,” said Leroy.
“My guess is that she is hunkered down somewhere in Lerwick or Scalloway. There can’t be that many places where you could hide Santa Claus. It’s not London where no one pays any attention,” said Brynjar.
“Wouldn’t that argue for her keeping my husband somewhere more out of the way? I mean if everyone knows everyone’s business,” said Mrs. Claus.
“Good point Mrs. Claus. She needs someplace a bit more out of the way for all of that screaming and moaning,” said Brynjar with a smile.
