Page 10 of Scrooged for the Holidays
“No, I don’t know her. But one look at the evaluation you sent over, and I know you’ll be serving her an eviction notice soon. And if she can’t afford the rent in Garland, where else will she go? Northlight owns all the open buildings.”
My knuckles turn white on the steering wheel. I know that Avery is right, but it doesn’t matter. I think about the audiobook I was listening to, taking emotion out of business. I know how to do it, as I’ve been working in commercial real estate since I graduated college. But it’s always good to have a refresher.
There was a time when I let emotions run my life, even my work. Back then, I might’ve cared about this woman’s feelings. But I learned better. If you allow feelings to get in the way of your goals and your job, you won’t make money or get far in life. I can’t cater to this woman and her family. I have to do what’s best for Garland’s future.
“It’s business,” I say to Avery. “It’s not personal.”
She snorts, and I almost hang up on her. I’m driving in the middle of a snowstorm—I don’t need her judgment. “I’m going to hang up now. But can you send me their reported numbers for last year? I’d also like the current lease terms. And something else: I saw a building as I was leaving town that looked like we could swoop it up. I’d love to know if the owners are selling.” I finish that thought by rattling off the address I memorized.
“It’s after six,” Avery says. “I was about to leave and pick up everything after Christmas.”
“I told you; you still have work until Christmas Eve.”
She pauses a long beat before she says, “My mom called. Our families are hanging out tonight.”
My stomach flips, my gaze focused on the road ahead of me. The windshield wipers flick back and forth as fast as they can go, but the snow is coming down so hard they hardly give me a better view of the road.
“Send me what I ask for, then you can go.”
“Greer,” she pleads. “Come on. Just because you don’t like to spend time with any of them doesn’t mean I don’t.”
“I look forward to your emails. And please update me on Tim’s status with Carole’s.”
“Greer—”
I click the button that hangs up the phone and nearly scream into the car. Instead, I inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth, remembering the mantra from the audiobook.
“Emotions are a liability. Control is power.” I repeat it several times while I try to push out any and all thoughts of my family. Fuck.
Why did Avery feel the need to tell me our families are hanging out tonight? It’s not like it’s new; I know they hang out a lot over the holidays and always have. But between that and the memories of the Roads Motel, I’m more than annoyed.
Avery is the only one I speak to. I haven’t seen her parents or boyfriend or had a conversation with my mom and dad since they called me an Ice Queen on Christmas Eve three years ago.
We had a huge fight after that in front of everyone, including my then-boyfriend. It was embarrassing and uncalled for. The only good to come of it was I learned what my parents thought of me, of my job. They were disappointed and embarrassed by me. It was obvious that they wished they had a kid like Avery instead—my mom even said as much. They wished I was someone warm and nice, someone who wanted to settle down and have a family in the suburbs.
That’s not me and never has been. I’ve wanted to work in the corporate world, to earn enough money so that I didn’t have to pinch pennies like my parents did my entire life. I wanted to make a name for myself, to carve my own path. It’s not my fault that’s not what they wanted for me or that I don’t want to be like them.
Memories of that night stab into my consciousness. That Christmas Eve and the following day were some of the worst of my life. Not only did I sever contact with my family, no longer seeing them or accepting their calls, but my boyfriend of over a year broke up with me the next morning after I gave him an expensive watch. He stood up, gave me back the gift, and said he agreed with my parents. Said I wasn’t the person I was when we started dating, that I’d changed but he’d been too afraid of me to say anything.
After that, I took a long, hard look in the mirror. If people thought I was an Ice Queen, then that was that. I’ve leaned into it ever since, and life has never been better. I’m working for a promotion, I rent a beautiful three-bedroom condo in the city, my car is paid off, and I have no debt and money in the bank. What more could I ask for?
“Emotions are a liability. Control is power,” I repeat to myself as I step on the gas, my car accelerating up the side of the mountain.
On another exhale, I look at my GPS. I frown when I still don’t see anything that looks remotely like I’m approaching Garland.
“What the hell?” I ask out loud. This car is nearly brand new; the GPS should not be malfunctioning.
I tap a button on the system, and my car swerves without my full attention on the road. I gasp and grip the wheel, my heart pounding in my chest. That was a stupid move. If I just keep driving, I’m bound to hit Garland. I’ll figure something out from there.
I turn up the radio, and to nobody’s surprise, it’s a Christmas song. “Hark! The Herald Angels Sing” plays through the speakers. I reach for the dash to change it when a loud, piercing noise cuts off the song and “Do You Believe in Magic” by The Lovin’ Spoonful comes on. I curse and rub at my right ear that’s now ringing from that god-awful noise. At least whatever radio station I’m on now isn’t Christmas music.
I find myself humming to the song I haven’t heard in forever as I crest the top of a small incline. When the road evens out, I find myself blinking, and not because I’m in Garland again, but because I see lights. Not just street lights, either—lights from businesses and houses.
“Is that…?” I squint through my windshield and all the snow falling down as my car inches toward the light pollution. “Good god.” I exhale. “It is.”
It’s a massive Christmas tree. One that looks like it was plucked out of Rockefeller Center. It’s got to be over sixty feet tall, towering so high it nearly dwarfs the buildings around it. The Christmas lights covering it are multicolored and bright, so bright I can see them reflecting on the windows of the buildings from here.
I slow to a snail’s pace as I inch toward the town, a town I’ve never seen before—one I for sure did not drive through on my way to Garland. My eyes flit to the side of the road, where a large white sign is lit from the front.
