Page 22 of My Secret Snowflake
“Is she ill?”
“She’s a battle ax. She’ll outlast us all,” he says.
Okay. That’s a bit more dedication to his mother than I expected. But it’s admirable. Still, a battle ax mother-in-law is less than optimal. Not that I should even be thinking about mothers-in-law.
I stand back to make sure we’re spacing the snowflakes correctly. Ernest mostly seems to be sticking one next to wherever I last placed one. Amelia is going to have a heart attack. I move to the last windowpane. He follows.
“Are you visiting family in Florida?” I ask.
“No. We just want to go somewhere warm. She raised me as a single mom, so I like to give her a vacation for the holidays. It was so much work for her to make Christmas special for me when I was a kid.”
“That’s so sweet,” I say, meaning it. Ernest seems like a good guy—the type of guy I should be looking for.
I could give him a Florida guidebook.
“What are you planning to do there?” I ask. This is the perfect way to trigger some more gift inspiration.
“I’ll play some golf, but other than that, we’ll just sit on the beach. I’ll probably do some work remotely.”
Those golf socks might be a good idea too. And suntan lotion.
And he’s another workaholic like me. Perfect. Right?
Somehow the image of me sitting next to Ernest on a beach, our laptops open in front of us, his mom in the next lounge chair down, is not giving me goose bumps of delight.
But it probably just feels this way because we’re office colleagues. Our interaction might be better in a less formal environment.
“Are you busy on Sunday? My friend, Lily, is hosting a cookie party, and you’re welcome to come if you want,” I ask. Lily will be so proud of me for going back into the dating pool, even if this is just dipping my toe in there.
“I’d love to come,” Ernest says.
“Great. I’ll email you the information,” I say.
We finish up, and I excuse myself to get back to my desk, leaving Jazmine and Aaron talking. But not before I notice that Aaron is using Jazmine’s mug for his coffee. Jazmine notices at the same time, and we smile at each other.
I pop my head into Raphael’s office as I pass by.
“Have you found anything yet? Did they take anything?” I ask.
“Some things,” he says slowly.
“What?” I ask.
“Well…” He stops and looks really torn.
He folds up a piece of paper on his desk. “I can hear the little siblings in the conference room down the hall. And aren’t you helping your parents tonight? I’m leaving soon to see my mom.”
He’s changing the subject.
“Yes. How’s she doing?” I ask.
“She’s doing a bit better on this new medication,” he says. “You should go. I told Kevin what I found, but since he asked me if I’d told anyone else, maybe I shouldn’t tell you. I told him I had notspokento you of what I’d found.” He emphasizes the word “spoken.”
“Now I really want to know,” I say. “But that’s kind of weird to ask.”
Unless highly confidential or personal data was stolen. But then we’d be in full-blown mitigation mode, informing data protection authorities. And we’re not.
Raphael says, “You’ll figure out the clues. It’s not urgent now. I told Kevin, but his response was…off.”
