Page 45 of The Hanukkah Hook-Up

And as for Beck?

Her mother had been right about one other thing: It was just as easy to fall for a Jewish man. And it hurt like hell.

Also, fuck Eli and his wisdom – there had been no net waiting for her.

* * *

“What do you mean, quit?”

Alex had spent the better part of the day in one-on-ones, trying to meet with as many of the New York staff possible, while his uncle had made closed-door calls to the board, shareholders and Myers and Sons attorneys. Nora had never been far from his mind the whole time – especially as each Britesmither’s story was more enlightening than the one before it. When the time had come to speak with Parker, Alex found her assistant skulking in an empty cubicle, stuffing his face with some sort of crumbly chocolate cake smeared with whipped cream.

“Read the room. Or rather, the cubicle.” The guy said miserably. “Hercubicle.” He gestured to the mainly bare fabric walls, where Alex could only imagine Nora had hung pictures of her Jew Crew to keep her company while she worked. There was a plant in the corner on its last green leaf, but she had told him she had a black thumb when it came to keeping anything green alive.

She had told him a lot in the short time they had known each other.

“She even took the plastic menorah I gave her so she would know the true joy of tacky holiday kitsch,” he bemoaned over a mouthful. “AndI’m stuck eating yule log by myself.”

“Is that Maureen’s, from Sales?”

Parker nodded. “So bad, yet you find yourself craving it once a year.” He offered his plate to Alex.

“It tastes like if sawdust and Cool-Whip had a baby.”

Parker raised his brow, head bobbing somberly to one side. “Swaddled in a blanket of bittersweet cocoa and regret.”

Fair assessment. The two men traded the plate back and forth until only a pile of crumbs remained. “She didn’t even say goodbye.”

Fuck. This hadn’t been part of the plan.

Then again, they had only made a plan A. Removing Hedstrom from the equation.

Plan B had come to him last night, when he couldn’t sleep.

He had held her, watched her as she slept. Her hair like an inky waterfall on the pillow, then spilling against his chest when she tossed and turned. She touched her necklace, even while dreaming.

His grandfather’s words had tunneled down to a singular focus:Take care of Nora.

Cutting out the cancer that had been Hedstrom’s mismanagement and deceit was a start. But he couldn’t very well leave her to deal with the fallout of a company that had been declining for years.

Quietly, he had slipped out of bed. Angled his laptop so the light wouldn’t disturb her. Postponed his Tuesday flight. And had begun to research.

He thought he’d figured everything out. A way to give Nora the epic story she deserved, come Monday morning.

But had he just lost her in the process?

* * *

“How could you let her just walk in here and quit? Why didn’t you call me back upstairs? I would’ve explained everything to her!”

For once, his uncle didn’t go on the defensive or try to refute. In fact, he was sitting so still, one hand up to his brow as he leaned on the desk, that Alex thought for a second he was asleep. Then Marty’s shoulders began to shake.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I didn’t know.”

His uncle clutched an envelope in his hands. He slowly held it out before pulling back slightly. Like he wanted to get something off his chest, but at the same time didn’t want to let go of what was troubling him just yet.

“I’ve lived so long under the shadow of a great man.” He whispered the words again. “I didn’t know.”

Alex took the envelope, and everything hit him all at once. The handwriting. The stamp. The postmark date.

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