Page 56 of Snowed In

Merry Scroogemas

Kiki Clark

Chapter One

West

“So, then I told him there was no reason why we couldn’t get the photoshoot done over two days and be finished well ahead of Christmas.”

My best friend, Sheila, laughs, the sound reverberating in my car’s speakers. “I don’t know that that’swell aheadof the holiday. It’s already the nineteenth.”

My stomach swirls at the reminder. “Yeah.”

“But that would be better than the week Daryn told you it would take and get you to your parents’ before the party on the twenty-fourth. Did he go for it?”

“Of course he didn’t,” I say, slapping my steering wheel and then shaking out the sting in my fingers. “Not that it matters. Just as I headed out of the office, he had the gall to tell me that this rich client he’ssoeager to sign and is bending over backwards to accommodate won’t even be here until the day after tomorrow—at theearliest!”

“What? Why do you have to be there so early?”

“Apparently, his assistant has to approve all of the proposed layouts and clothing options before this guy will even get on his private plane or helicopter or whatever.”

Sheila whistles under her breath. “And this had to be done right at Christmas?” she asks, sounding dubious.

“That’s what I said. And Daryn gave me his favorite answer. Whatever?—”

“The client wants,” she finishes with me, very familiar with my boss’s favorite expressions.

I shake my head, focusing on the deserted road ahead of me. I’ve been making my way slowly up the mountain for what feels like hours, and every winding minute is another minute snow is accumulating. I need to get to this stupid luxury resort that some insane person had built on the side of a mountain for rich people to vacation at before I end up in a ditch or falling down the side of the mountain.

I shudder, almost grateful for the fact night had fallen an hour ago and I can’t really see that the right side of the road just drops away anymore. I still know it’s there though.

“I’m sorry, babes,” Sheila says, and I can hear in her voice how much she means it. “I can’t believe I’m going to be at your family’s Christmas party and you won’t.”

I groan theatrically. “Me either. I mean, I want you to have fun, obviously. It’s not like I want them to cancel the party because I can’t make it.”

At least…mostof me doesn’t want that. A tiny part of me had hoped that when I called my parents yesterday and gave them the news, they would insist on postponing the annual party until I could be there with them. Even if they’d wanted to, it was too short of notice, and I knew that.

Family from all over the state—and even a few from even farther—come home to Stonewood Ridge every year to celebrate the holiday, and there’s no way they can cancel or postpone a week ahead.

I’m just going to have to miss it.

“When do you have to go back home?” I ask, grimacing when she sighs heavily.

“My flight home is the twenty-sixth,” she says reluctantly. “I have to be back to work the next day.”

“I might not get to see you at all?” I exclaim, silently cursing my boss all over again.

Daryn is the absolute worst. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself and the big-money clients who make him even richer. I don’t know why I’m still working for him. At least once a month, I contemplate resigning. Just walking into his office, setting the piece of paper on fire, and then dropping it on his desk. Then I’d turn on my heel, all dramatic and cool, and saunter back out.

But every month, I also chicken out.

Working for Daryn is giving me the opportunity to make connections I wouldn’t otherwise be able to do and still live in Stonewood Ridge. I would’ve had to move to New York or LA, and that just isn’t something I’ve ever been interested in doing.

I like working on the PR side of things, especially managing social media, and I keep waiting to be given my own accounts, but every time I bring it up, Daryn blows me off and says I’mnot ready. I knowit’s bullshit though, that he just likes having me as a glorified assistant.

I know I’m a halfway decent photographer and content creator. A few of the videos I’ve made for my parents’ business have even gone semi-viral, and that was with me half-assing their content. I know that if given the opportunity, I can help people grow their businesses and create the kind of branding most small-business owners don’t understand.

I squint at the GPS on my phone and frown. The path I’ve been following has disappeared. The wordsSearching for Routeare at the top, along with the circle of doom. Is my GPS failing? Have I lost service or something?

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