Page 6 of The Nutcracker

Kevin’s office was located in the storage room, his desk jammed between a set of shelves full of jarred pickles and an old bookcase packed with dehydrated shake mix and boxes of hairnets and latex gloves. On a swivel chair that threatened to tip him at any moment, Kevin tried to look in control, leaning back with his hands behind his head.

It was an unconvincing play of power, made even more untenable by the fact that Kevin wasn’t even old enough to drive himself to work. That duty rested on the shoulders of his tirelessly devoted mom.

“I think you know why I’ve called you in here, Jordan. It’s about your punctuality, or should I say lack thereof.” The chair teetered, but Kevin caught his balance in the nick of time. “It’s the third time this week you’ve been late.”

“Kevin, I’m sorr—”

“It’s Mr. Shelton to you, Jordan. Supervisors are strictly addressed by Mister or Missus or Miss, no ifs or buts or maybes about it. Those are the rules. It’s in a memo from Hippo Hamburgers head office if you’d like me to read it to you.”

I paused to ground myself. “Mr. Shelton, I’m sorry if I’ve been late for some shifts. As I explained to you, my grandmother has—”

“I know, I know. She’s got cancer.”

“She has Alzheimer’s.”

“Whatever. The fact is while you’re out there running around after granny, people aren’t getting their fries. Burgers aren’t getting flipped. Shakes aren’t getting pre-mixed. Do you get what I’m saying? I’m saying that this is a business, Jordan. It’s a link in a chain of businesses right around the country, and if our link in that chain isn’t strong—if we turn up late or over-toast the buns or forget to upsell our customers to the Jumbo Hippo Combo—then we’re letting down the whole freaking chain. No ifs or buts or maybes about it. Do you understand me, Jordan?”

“I under—”

At that moment Kevin’s phone rang. He looked at the caller ID, held one finger up to me to pause our conversation, then said into his phone, “Jesus Mom, can you please not call me at work… I know my shift finished ten minutes ago, but you don’t become Employee of the Month without doing a little overtime. Now would you please wait in the car till I’m done? Thank you.”

By the time Kevin ended his call, I had already unpinned the name badge I had borrowed from Eddie and placed it on Kevin’s desk.

“What’s this?”

“I’m resigning.”

“But you can’t. I was just about to fire you.”

“Too late, Kevin. I beat you to it.” I stood and headed for the door, wondering where I was going to get the money to keep up the maintenance on Grandma’s house… yet knowing I’d figure out a way.

“Aw, shit! Can’t you come back and let me fire you?” Kevin begged. “I’ve always wanted to fire someone’s ass.”

“Sorry Kevin, it’s not going to happen today.” I winked in the doorway. “No ifs or buts or maybes about it.”

And with that I shut the store room door behind me.

Chapter Five

A year and three weeks ago the snow was falling on the streets of Chicago. Not in the slurry, slushy, sleety kind of way, but in that light and fluffy Hollywood movie kind of way. It was the kind of night when romance was alive and the seeds of a happy ending were sewn deep beneath that snow, ready to flourish when the sun came out again.

I had just finished work for the day at the engineering firm and was meeting Liam for drinks at our favorite bar. I pulled my coat tighter around me and shoved my hands deep into my pockets. I smiled as I felt the small box in my right-hand pocket.

I grinned to myself, imagining his excitement when he opened it.

No, it wasn’t a wedding ring. We weren’t ready for that quite yet.

But it was the next best step.

Inside the box, which I had delicately tied with a romantic red bow, was the key to my apartment.

It washiskey to my apartment.

And yet it was so much more than that—I was about to give Liam the key to my heart.

I turned the corner and in the window of the bar I saw him sitting on a stool at a small table for two, texting on his phone as he always seemed to do. He was an account manager for a big marketing firm and addicted to his work. I knew one day I’d wrestle that phone off him and sweep him away on a holiday to Hawaii or Fiji. Perhaps one day, when we were finally ready to get engaged, an island holiday would be just perfect.

In the meantime, I pushed open the door to the bar as a happy couple were wrapping their scarves around their necks, about to exit. The two strangers wished me Merry Christmas as they passed me. I wished them Merry Christmas back and the simple exchange filled my heart with joy. I was confident there was no better time to ask Liam to move in with me.

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