Page 4 of His Off-Limits Christmas Gift

“You like? Eh?” He beamed at me as I took a longer pause to shake his hand in greeting. Pointing at the pin, he raised his brows. “My grand-niece found this and insisted that I wear it.”

“It’s great,” I said, meaning it.

While Christmas was in the air, or starting to infuse it, the décor of the building sometimes seemed too… watered down. Too elegant. Too fancy-schmancy and lacking the pep and cheer this time of the year should signify. Juan’s bright-colored pin might come off as cheesy, but it made me smile.

“I can’t believe it’s already so close to the end of the year,” I added.

“And the big party.” He smiled wider.

I nodded, keeping my smile plastered on my face. While I loved this time of the year, I wasnota fan of the annual holiday party. I used to be. Six years ago, I would’ve been competing with Juan for excitement about it. Now, it was a hindrance to get through.

He seemed to get the memo that I didn’t appreciate the reminder of that event. Having the grace to sober up a bit, he shook his head slightly and cleared his throat. As if that could clear the air.

Everyone at the company loved that party. We went all out with dinner, dancing, live bands, and bonuses given to all. Colleagues could hang out, coworkers could catch up with others’ families. It was a grand gesture of a party that started back when my grandparents still worked here as board chairs.

It used to be fun for me, too.

“Speaking of… With it so close to the end of the year, what are you even doing here, CO?” He patted my back as he nodded in acknowledgment at someone else entering behind me. “None of you CO folks come in much in December.” He checked his watch, as if needing to confirm it was indeed the last month of the year.

He called us all a CO for short, not to be rude but as an inside joke. I was a Chief Officer, the CFO here at one of the country’s oldest importing and exporting businesses. Malley Inc. was a conglomerate, a megacorp with many chief officers, but he was right. Not many of them came in daily as the year concluded.

I shrugged. “Eh, just some things to handle.” I patted my briefcase, using it like a prop. “Still have work to do.”

“Sure. Sure.” He nodded again, his happy mood diminished a bit. Just his mention of that damn party put a damper on his spirits, and I hated that. It’d taken him a moment too long torealize how much of a faux pas it was to bring up the party I didn’t look forward to any longer. But that wasn’t his problem. I had to move on from the crappy memories.

This was a jolly time of the year, a month full of festivity and fun.

It was supposed to be, but as I left him in the lobby and rode the elevator up to my floor, I sighed heavily.

Six years had passed. The memories that tainted one of my favorite seasons of the year should’ve faded by now, right?

Thatwas why I was coming in to work—early, like usual. I had to stay busy. I wanted to keep myself preoccupied with little chance of downtime to be idle and think. If I let my mind wander, too many visuals of the past would come back and haunt me.

Fortunately, there was ample work for me to do. I strode straight to my office, smiling at the holiday jazz channel streaming quietly from my computer, and got down to it. December or not, work didn’t wait for anyone. I could be like my upper-level colleagues and slow down my pace, but I preferred to keep things moving. I would take a break. As soon as I endured that holiday party, I’d take off for some solitude and peace at my family’s cabin back home.

“You'd better not be thinking about taking off to that cabin of yours,” Julie, my office manager, stated dryly. She stood at the door to my office, crossing her arms and smirking.

“As a matter of fact, Iwasthinking about it,” I replied with a smile. “Good morning, Julie.”

She huffed. “Goodmorning?” Entering my office a few feet, she snarled. The expression made her blue and white polka-dot-framed glasses slide down her nose, and she took a second to push them back up where they belonged. Free to move her hand again, she flung her arm back and pointed out the door. “Sheshowed up again. It is impossible for this to be agoodmorning when she can’t get it through her head that she’s fired.”

I chuckled, amused more than I should be with her irate reaction.

“Jessica came back?” I asked.

Julie dropped into a chair, grimacing. “I don’t understand it. I really don’t. Just how entitled are these young people going to get?”

I tilted my head, thinking back to the minimal details I'd learned about Jessica, the last in a long line of dime-a-dozen assistants who’d failed to last more than a few days on my floor. “I thought she was thirty-something.”

She waved her hand, dismissing me. “Whatever. The entitlement in this one…” Shooting up to sit straight, she narrowed her eyes at me. “Trying to claim that I can’t fire her because it doesn’t align with what her astrologers predicted for her?” She slapped her hand to her thigh, sending her short gray curls bouncing with the full-body movement. “Are you kidding me?”

Again, I lost the fight with a chuckle. Itwasridiculous.

“If the woman could at leasttryto understand a word processing program, then I would’ve given her another chance. It is the holiday season, after all.”

I nodded, shuffling documents on my desk while listening to her familiar rant.

“That’s not minding her complete ignorance of spreadsheets.” She narrowed her eyes again and cringed, which called for another slide of her glasses down her nose. “How, Nate?Howdoes an adult not know how to use a word processing program? A spreadsheet? I’m older than dirt and evenIknow those basics. They teach this stuff in school!”

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