Page 69 of The Grump

“Well, it’s true. I’ve skipped one or two Christmas events over the years, especially since I started working at the confectionery.”

“I haven’t been to anything in years,” I told her, “so this will be a long time coming for the both of us.”

“This is the first year you‘ve received invitations?”

“No, I always get them.”

“And you turn them down?” she almost shrieked.

“I usually tell my assistant to just not RSVP to any of the Christmas invitations I get.”

“Xander! That’s a scandal. Please tell me you’re joking.”

“I’m not. I simply don’t have time for these things.”

“I bet they’re mostly in the evening. You don’t spend your evenings at the office, do you?”

“No,” I admitted, “but I typically have better—”

“Ugh,” she said, and I burst out laughing for real.

“For my own sake, I won’t finish that sentence.”

“You’ve got very good self-preservation skills. Well, I’ve got a mess to clean and then an outfit to visualize for the ball, so I should go.”

“Sure. Can’t wait.”

This day was getting better and better.

After hanging up, I started to look at my to-do list in earnest. I had a lot of ground to cover and got to it. I was extremely productive until about three o’clock when my phone rang. Isabeau. I usually didn’t like answering phone calls during work hours unless it was absolutely necessary, but my grandmothers were always the exception.

“Hello,” I said enthusiastically.

“Hi, Xander darling. Am I interrupting anything?”

“No, or I wouldn’t have answered.”

“Yes, that’s true.”

“Can I help you with anything?”

“I was wondering if you’ve made a decision yet about the confectionery.”

I frowned, leaning back in my chair. Then I got up, stretching my legs a bit as I walked through the office. “No. I told you I wouldn’t decide until after Christmas.”

“But I’m sure you’re already leaning one way or the other.”

“No, I’m not.” I put a hand in my pocket, looking outside. Even from this floor, I could still see the Christmas decorations throughout the city. I made a mental note to bring Bailey here. She’d absolutely love it.

“Right,” she said.

“Isabeau, what is it? It’s not like you to call under pretense.”

“Who says I did?”

“I do.” After a bit, I added, “Am I wrong?”

“No. My real question was what’s happening with Bailey?”

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