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?”
