She giggled.
He laughed. “That has to be the worst office-party gift I’ve ever heard of.”
Now she felt nerves pulling her in two directions. Simon the Sour Boss was going to hate a lighthearted gift. Why had she succumbed to silliness? But the man needed to lighten up. Her gift was perfect.
She pointed to the present in his hand. “That might top it.”
He pulled the ribbons off and tucked them in his coat pocket. The paper came off next, and he chortled at the picture on the box. “Is this what it really is, or did you reuse the box?”
“That’s really it.” She held her breath.
Simon slit the clear plastic wrapping with a thumbnail and opened the box. He pulled out the contents. A miniature desk calendar with no Mondays. An extremely small pad of paper marked Suggestions. A tiny box for the suggestions that had the slot duct-taped shut. A sign that said, Out. Flipped over, it still said, Out. All together the desk set contained ten tiny, absurd items that mocked traditional office paraphernalia.
A streetlamp illuminated his face, and she saw his winsome smile. The smile changed him from nicely handsome to incredibly attractive. His lips twitched. “Thank you, Miss Crowden. Your gift is much appreciated.”
“You’re welcome. It’s Crowder.”
He nodded again, still smiling. Cora found herself smiling too. Mr. Derrick should release that blast of charm more often. The girls in the office would find it breathtaking. She shook herself back to reality and headed for her money pit of a car.
Mr. Derrick made sure she was locked in before he returned to his vehicle.
She cracked her window. “Merry Christmas, and thanks for the lift,” she said as he opened the driver’s door. The tangle of ribbon curls from the package stuck out of his tailored black overcoat. Their bright, bouncy colors looked ludicrous in the dark night.
He lifted a hand in a farewell gesture, then he said good-bye instead of grunting, as he had in the bookstore.
One nice notch up from nothing. Cora acknowledged the polite exchange as she nosed her car out onto the street. Then a happy zing shot down her previous opinion of her boss’s boss. She would have to revise her opinion of Mr. Derrick. Who would have thought that under solemn, silent, and serious was a personality?
Turning her mind to more practical matters, Cora reached out and punched the heat control on the dashboard. She hit the Defrost button next, throwing the warm air onto the windshield. She shut the heater off and waited for the engine to warm up. Past time to go home.
She mulled over the chores she wanted to get done this weekend. Then her thoughts turned to what she could still get done this evening.
Find the cat. Where was Skippy hiding this morning? She’d obviously found a new spot. Cora puzzled over the oddity. But the problem would solve itself soon. She’d ferret Skippy out. That cat had no way to escape, and how hard could it be to find one fat cat in a one-bedroom apartment?
4
Monday morning, when Cora parked her car in her slot, she recognized the car in eighty-six and knew Simon Derrick probably sat at his desk, drinking a cup of coffee and making a list. And just like Santa Claus, he would check it twice. Mr. Derrick was meticulous.
She hung her coat on a brass hook in the employee lounge and opened the locker above it. Before pushing in her purse, she removed the Wizards’ Christmas Ball ticket. Irritation twitched her fingers. It had been a most unsettling weekend, from her encounter with Simon on Friday to finally finding Skippy. She closed the narrow door of her locker and leaned her head against it.
“Are you all right, Cora?” Mrs. Hudson stood behind her.
Cora took a deep breath, straightened, and smiled.
“You’re sore from your accident, aren’t you?”
Cora tilted her head, and the muscles in her shoulders twanged. “You know, I am.” She put a hand up to gently message the nape of her neck. “You were right about it sneaking up on me.”
“I bet you got all your packages off this weekend.”
“I did.”
“That should give you a sense of satisfaction.” Mrs. Hudson’s gentle expression changed to a mock scowl. “Will you change your mind and come have Christmas dinner with my family?”
Cora gave her a swift hug. “No, I have my own little tradition, and I would be out of sorts all year if I didn’t get to have my own way.”
“Christmas is supposed to be about people, Cora. Not rituals.”
“I didn’t say rituals, Mrs. Hudson. I said tradition.”
The older woman tsked. “Promise me you won’t be alone.”
“I promise.”
“Well, then get to work. We want everything caught up so the week between Christmas and New Year’s won’t be such a hassle while half the staff’s on vacation.”
“Yes ma’am.” Cora saluted, but she didn’t go straight to her desk.
She made a detour down the middle aisle and knocked softly on Mr. Derrick’s door. Of course, she could see him. Glass walls did not provide much privacy. He looked up and waved her in.
And he stood. Cora had noticed that he stood whenever a woman entered the room.
“Come in,” he said. “What can I do for you?”
“I brought you the ticket.” She handed it to him.
“Thank you. My sister will be thrilled.”
“And …” Her voice trailed off.
He tilted his head, waiting.
“And it seems I can provide a kitten as well. Not by Christmas, of course, but you can bring your sister by my apartment, and she can watch how they grow.”
“I thought you said your cat had no social life.”
“She doesn’t! I don’t know how it happened.” She felt tears welling up. It was silly, but all the trivial little problems of the past week welled up and overflowed. Tears ran down her cheeks.
Mr. Derrick gently pulled her into his office, closed the door, and told her to sit in the chair to the right of his desk.
“No one can see your face from there.” He sat behind his desk and handed her a file. “Open it and read.”
He rummaged in his bottom drawer until he found a battered box of tissues, and he placed it in her lap, under the opened file. Cora snatched at a tissue and tried to wipe her eyes without letting the whole office know she’d had a breakdown. She pressed trembling lips together. This was absurd. If she had cried in front of Mrs. Hudson, it would have been bad, but not this bad. Crying in front of your boss’s boss was not recommended in any of the business courses she’d taken in college.
“I have a couple of calls to make,” Mr. Derrick said. “Take a minute to get settled. But don’t leave until I’ve given you permission.”
Her head jerked up. “Permission?”
He smiled. “You’ll want to wait until your face isn’t blotchy anymore. I can see that, and you can’t.”
“Oh.” She pressed the tissue to her eyes. “Thank you.”
True to his word, Simon opened his planner and made his morning calls. She listened with half an ear. He used the same even tone with everyone, no false camaraderie as she heard some of the salesmen on the floor use, and no steel beneath the glove when he spoke to a man who needed a reprimand.
“Are you feeling better?”
She nodded and handed him the file. “That account should be closed. Over thirty-two percent of their merchandise has been returned or received a formal complaint.”
“We’re pulling the company from our placement line.” He leaned back in his chair, propping his elbows on the armrests with his hands folded together. He nodded slowly. “I guess now would be a good time to tell you we did the year-end reviews last week. Your name has been put forward to cover Mrs. Hudson’s position while she’s on leave.”
Cora jerked so violently the tissue box fell to the floor. Mr. Derrick bent over to pick it up and then put it back in his drawer. “You’re surprised.”
“I didn’t expect this. Kelly Johnson has been here longer.”
“She’s not a people person. She doesn’t encourage other members of the team.”
“That’s part of Mrs. Hudson’s job?”
He smiled and shook his head. “That’s not in her job description. But it makes her good at what she does.”
“Do you really want me?”
An odd look passed through his eyes. She looked down at her hands. He’d probably thought she could do the job until she burst into tears over the cat. Now he must be mulling over whether she had emotional issues.
“I take recommendations and interview those who are being considered.” He sighed and leaned back again. “I didn’t single you out, Miss Crowden.”
This time she sighed, and she outdid his sigh by a mile. “Crow-der.”
He smiled, a nice smile that warmed his eyes. “I had a college roommate, Larry Crowden. He’s still a great friend. I’m sorry, I can’t seem to forget his name and remember yours.”
All right, then he wasn’t such a jerk.
He leaned forward. “I do think you’re the best person for this job. We’ll consider that settled. Congratulations.”
She stared at him. “I didn’t lose the opportunity over the cat?”
“I don’t understand.”
“I cried about my cat.”
“Well, I figured it was probably something more than just the cat.”
She shook her head in a tight little motion that made her dizzy, so she stopped. Tears threatened, and she blinked. He must think she was nuts.
“Miss Crowder, Sandy would love to see the newborn kittens. May I bring her over this week? Does Wednesday work for you?”
Zeroing in on the point. Was that his way of rescuing her from her meandering melancholy?
She nodded and stood. “I’ll write out directions.”
“Just give me the address, and I’ll find it on the Web.”
She clenched her teeth and moved to the door.
“Thank you, Mr. Derrick.”
“Thank you for the ticket. And… ”
“And?”
“You might want to go to the rest room and wash your face. You’re still a little blotchy.”
Wednesday. The boss was coming. The boss and his family.
Cora looked at her watch again. Ten after seven. Simon Derrick had said seven fifteen. He’d called and said everyone but Granddad wanted to see the kittens. Did she mind?
She said she didn’t, but her apartment was a carefully designed place of refuge, and she was being invaded. First by immaculately conceived kitties, and now by a man from the office and his family. Did she mind? Yes, she did.
She was so nervous she couldn’t eat, but she could certainly tidy. She whizzed around like the Queen of England would be knocking at her door.
She checked on Skippy and her kitties. The calico had tolerated her all weekend, for the most part, but she had moved her kittens to a new hiding place whenever Cora got too intrusive. It had taken until midweek for Cora and Mama Skippy to come to an understanding about the precious kitties. And now outsiders threatened their calm.
She jumped when the doorbell rang. Biting her lip, she hastened to open it, forgetting to look through the peephole.
They stood in a bunch, three women, and Simon Derrick behind them. There was no little girl. Then the roundest and youngest lady blinked behind impossibly pink glasses, and Cora understood.
She smiled and reached out to take her hand. “You must be Sandy. Please, everyone, come in.”
After the introductions, Cora led them on tiptoe to the hall closet. It had double doors that opened from the center, and Skippy had learned to open them the first day she came to the apartment. One half held shelves for linens and storage, and the other had a rod for coats and sweaters on hangers.
Cora whispered, “I think she’s in here now. She keeps moving her babies.”
Sandy sidled as close to Cora as she could and peered at the slatted closet door. She whispered back, even quieter than Cora. “Why?”
“I guess Skippy thinks I’m too nosy.”
She eased open the door and heard three feminine “ahs” behind her. Five little kittens snuggled along Skippy’s stomach, attached and nursing. Mama cat lifted her head and said, “Yee-ow!” She narrowed her eyes and gave the intruders a glare.
Simon’s sister reached for a kitten, but her mother caught her arm. “Not yet, Sandy. They’re too little.”
One kitty let go and fell away from its mommy. It lay on its back, not moving.
Sandy gasped. “Is it okay?”
Cora put an arm around the young lady’s back. “Yes, she’s fine.”
“Passed out,” said Aunt Mae. “Drunk on milk.”
Sandy leaned farther into the closet. “Why aren’t they cute?”
Cora laughed. “They’ll look better in a few days. Their hair will fill out, and in two weeks or so, they’ll open their eyes.”
“There are five kittens.” She turned serious eyes to Cora. “Which one is mine?”
“You can choose,” Cora said, “but we have to wait for six to eight weeks before they can leave their mother.”
She nodded. “Okay.” Sandy peered at the kittens, looking from one to the next. “I can’t decide.”
“There will be plenty of time for you to make a decision,” Cora said.
Sandy lifted a bag she’d been carrying and handed it to Cora. “These are for you. I baked them with Granddad.”
Cora peeked inside and smelled chocolate before she even caught sight of the cookies. “Chocolate chip?”
Sandy nodded. “Do you like chocolate chip? It’s the only kind of cookies Granddad will make.”
“I love chocolate chip, and I have some hot cocoa mix. Come into the living room, and we’ll have a party.”
Sandy gazed longingly into the linen cupboard.
Cora gave her a little hug. “You can come back and see them before you leave. When they’re bigger, Skippy will let us hold them.”
Simon still hung in the background. She gestured toward the living room, and he chose a chair in the corner, while all the women crowded into the kitchen. Cora had more help than she needed to get the cocoa started. The milk, she was told, had to go in a saucepan and couldn’t be microwaved. Aunt Mae asked if Cora had any cinnamon. Mrs. Derrick put the mugs in hot water to warm them.
At first Cora thought she would get claustrophobic with so many bodies in her tiny kitchen, but the three ladies were fun to be with, chatting and helping one another, and even bursting into song. Christmas songs, of course. Cora peeked around the door frame and saw Simon sitting under the reading lamp with a Max Lucado book from her bookcase.
Since Cora had no natural cocoa powder or even carob, the brand-name powdered mix would have to do. Aunt Mae was nice about it but insisted that Cora shop at the natural-food grocery and gave her instructions about what to buy. After ten minutes of careful stirring, the cocoa steamed but wasn’t allowed to boil.
When they brought mugs and a plate of cookies to the living room, Simon took his cup and a cookie but went right back to the book. The women took care of the conversation. Before long, Cora found herself unloading her feelings about her cat.
“I just don’t understand how it happened. I tried so hard to keep her safe and protected. But somehow she got out anyway. It almost feels like I’ve been betrayed.” To her horror, Cora felt the tears well up again.
“Oh my.” Simon’s mother put her hand on Cora’s shoulder. “Why is this so troubling?”
Cora sniffed. “How did Skippy get pregnant? She never leaves the apartment.”
“Has she spent the night at the vet’s recently?” asked Aunt Mae.
“I thought of that.” Cora sighed. “She spent a day there, but it was six months ago.”
Mrs. Derrick sipped her cocoa. “Does anyone else go in and out of your apartment to do cleaning or maintenance? Someone could have let your cat out.”
“The apartment complex has inspections and a maintenance man. I suppose
that could be a possibility. But no one reported she got out.”
“They probably assumed, because they found her and managed to get her home, that it didn’t matter.”
Cora sniffed. “Yes, you’re probably right.”
Aunt Mae patted her shoulder. “But that doesn’t explain why you find it so upsetting.”
Cora glanced around the concerned faces of the three women. Simon had his nose in the book, apparently oblivious to the female chatter.
“When I was growing up,” she confided, “my sister was three years younger than me.” She stopped, and Mrs. Derrick nodded, encouraging her to go on. “Because of the situation at home, I basically raised her.”
Cora tried to think of a way to get out of telling this story. But now that she’d started, there didn’t seem to be a graceful way to stop. These ladies were so sympathetic and calm. Still, she never told this story. Never. She looked from Simon’s mother’s eyes to his aunt’s serene expression. Mrs. Derrick rubbed a soft circle on her back. Their peace reassured Cora. The sob that had almost escaped eased away in a relieved sigh. Cora crossed her legs, pressing one against the other. “When she was thirteen, she began sneaking out. By the time she was fourteen, she was pregnant. I didn’t know she had been sneaking out.”
Mrs. Derrick nodded ever so slightly. “So you felt it was your fault.”
Cora shrugged. “Some, but the worst of it was nobody but me thought it was horrible. My sister laughed over my being shocked and upset. And”—Cora made a face—“she told me to butt out of her life.” She gave a half laugh. “I guess I’m expecting Skippy to tell me to get out of her life.”
Sandy reached across and patted Cora’s knee. “She won’t do that,” she said seriously. “She’s a cat.”
Cora blinked rapidly, suppressing her tears and trying to keep a straight face at the same time. The others broke into laughter.
Aunt Mae slapped her knee. “Leave it to Sandy to bring out the most important point.” She turned to Cora. “Cats are less complicated than people. They’re less likely to betray you.”
Mrs. Derrick nodded. “People are born with the ability to hurt one another. Without Jesus, they’re just bound to. Just think how often we, who have the benefit of the Holy Spirit, manage to mess things up.”
Two Tickets to the Christmas Ball Page 4
