It was when he purchased most of his stock for the following year, and he was charged with the sacred duty of buying the gifts Santa was bringing his children. Alan still believed in Santa. But Hazel had known by the age of eight that there was something fishy about the whole thing. Her dad had fallen through to the hip fixing the roof; there was no way reindeer could land on it. He timed his annual trip carefully, scanning the advertisements in the Toronto Telegram every day starting the second week in December, waiting for the right moment. The moment came when the smaller department stores and specialty shops finally crumbled under the pressure of Eaton’s and started advertising desperately deep discounts. Prices were especially low in the stores of the Ward, where the prices were low to begin with. Everyone undercut. For Micallef’s, it was the best opportunity all year to stock up on things that never went out of style: underwear and scarves at sixty per cent off, nightshirts in every colour for half a song, trenchcoats, and ladies’ gloves.
