Page 3 of A Little Christmas 4: Teller
Maizie clapped her hands just as the bus rolled up. We got on and sat in our usual seats as I pulled out a sketchbook and a pencil from my rubber duck backpack, flipping open the rainbow cover to draw.
“I can make it with cap sleeves or long sleeves, depending on what you prefer. The fabric can have designs with a tulle overlay, and maybe some zigzag piping across the top. What color do you want? When do you have time to go shopping with me? Maybe Thursday? We can go to the Thrifty Shopper and buy some clothes on the cheap that I can repurpose. My footie pajamas are made from a flannel blanket.” I was chattering a million miles a minute, but I was very excited. I loved designing things, especially for littles.
Not many designers created childlike clothes in adult sizes. It was a dream of mine to create outfits for littles that fit well and looked like clothes for kids, so my customers could indulge their inner littles.
While at RISD, I couldn’t use my little designs for class, but I’d created a very diverse wardrobe. Now that I had Maizie as a good friend, I made things for her that might catch the attention of other littles at the club, so maybe I could create some unique clothes for my friends.
Maizie had gone to a private university paid for by her parents, but I hadn’t been as lucky. I starved while I lived in Providence so I could pay for my education and the extra supplies I needed for projects, working two jobs the whole time. I had already suffered for my craft.
“Thursday morning is great. Daddy Barrett and I are having dinner on Thursday night with a friend of his who just moved to town, so I need to be ready when Daddy finishes his day, but I don’t have anything else going on,” Maizie said.
“It’s a date.”
We got off the bus and walked into our building, me taking the stairs. Maizie lived on the first floor, so I gave her a hug. “Good night.”
“Night, Telly. See you tomorrow.”
Chapter Two
Briggs York
“Madeline, will you please print off the directions from here to Chez Remy’s? I’m meeting an old friend there for dinner tonight, and I need to know how long it will take me to get there from here,” I requested.
I was a bit helpless when it came to technology, but that was why I had hired people who knew their way around the electronic world. That way, I could concentrate on things that kept the company running—great deals that I could spin into magical money-making propositions.
The door to my office was open, and I was the rude bastard who yelled at my assistant because I was too busy to get up. A few minutes later, Madeline Wicks came into my office with a large glass jar that had once held pickles and a sheet of paper.
I reached into my desk drawer and retrieved a hundred-dollar bill, tossing it with the others inside the jar. It was my penance for yelling, or so she’d told me when I started working in the Hillsdale office of my company.
Madeline didn’t like being yelled at, so she thought if there was a financial punishment for my rude behavior, she could break me of the annoying habit. The money was going toward the company holiday party at the end of the year, according to Madeline. I didn’t bother to tell her it would never work.
“How’s it going with getting around the city? Have you started looking for houses yet?” she asked.
York Properties, LLC had ten offices around the world to manage the company’s numerous commercial real estate holdings. The headquarters changed on an annual basis as I moved around the globe to the offices where we owned properties, concentrating on those in that location for a year. Anything that needed renovating was what I focused on for that year. I’d decided to relocate from Manhattan to the St. Louis suburb of Hillsdale and focus on the properties we owned in the Midwest.
I owned twenty commercial properties in St. Louis, Kansas City, and the distance between, so the move was financially smart. Plus, when I turned forty-four, I decided I wanted something different from the bright lights of the big cities I’d been spending time in.
“Not yet. I’m still deciding whether I want to live close to the office or out in the country. I’ve been perusing MLS listings in the evenings, but there’s no use in seriously looking for a place until I decide what I’d prefer. The hotel is fine for now. Any messages?”
“No. Are you expecting someone to call? Is this office quieter than the one in Manhattan?”
I chuckled. “Well, there are fewer folks in this office, so I like the demurer atmosphere. How about you? Am I driving you insane by being here every day? I know you’ve run this office for five years without much input from me. If I’m annoying you, let me know, okay? I can work more from the hotel or something.” I could be a controlling pain in the ass, or so I’d been told.
I adored Madeline. She was organized, level-headed, and took no shit from me. I didn’t want to be the reason she quit—as a few of my assistants had done when I worked for any length of time in a particular office.
“Briggs, you’re fine, really. I have four younger brothers, so I know how to deal with a needy man who thinks he’s a king.” Her comment brought a huge laugh from me.
“Thank you, Madeline. Don’t hold back if I upset you, okay? By the way, I went to Bloomfield’s last night to pick up a gag gift for the holiday grab bags, and the salesman talked me into an expensive suede bomber jacket. The person who sold it to me had his commission commandeered by his boss, which is damn unfair. Will you return these things for me? When I got home last night, I bought them from another store in their chain to keep the assistant manager from getting credit for thesale. They’ll be delivered here tomorrow. Take as much time as you need with the return,” I said as I handed her the garment bag with my purchases from the Hillsdale Bloomfield’s and my credit card to make the return.
“I’ll be taking a three-hour lunch to do this,” Madeline threatened.
“Take the rest of the day off if you’d like. By the way, do we ever have casual Fridays?” I should know the answer, but in some of the offices—especially overseas and Manhattan—things were much more formal.
I always wore a suit or a jacket and slacks, so I didn’t worry about protocol much, but I wanted to show off the replacement jacket I was expecting. I also wanted to find that young salesman and take him to dinner.
The older guy was an asshole for taking the cutie’s commission, but I wasn’t sure how the hierarchy worked, and I didn’t want to get the young guy fired. He was adorably sweet.
Madeline grinned. “We don’t currently have a casual dress code, but it might be great to give it a try, say now through the end of the year. The employees will like it, I’m sure. Please be kind and allow jeans, okay?”
