by Jenny Plumb
“Lights are back,” she said, awed. There was greenery and decorations of bells and lanterns all over, and despite the rain, it looked like Christmas. She had seen Christmas lights and decor, of course, but for some reason it was special this year. It wasn’t because of him, she decided. Nope, it wasn’t.
“Think we’ll have a white Christmas?” Heather asked him, hoping her boots weren’t dripping on his floor mats. How much did this car cost? Too much.
“Chances are good,” he replied and seemed to be heading down the street toward a very picturesque diner. She hoped that was where they were going. It looked like a storybook cover. White lights lined the outside, with big picture windows full of red and green twinkles. There were giant candy canes, and once they got closer, the scent of gingerbread and Christmas carols welcomed them. It looked like a movie set.
He pulled up outside and they got out to head into what looked like welcoming comfort. He grabbed her hand again, as if it were the most natural thing in the world and she didn’t resist, but laced her fingers into his. Shivering in the cold rain, they all but ran inside the bright warmth. It even smelled like Christmas in here. Gingerbread and hot chocolate and pine from the real tree in the corner, rows of cookies lined the side wall. There were a dozen or so tables and about half were full. Her stomach growled loudly, and Ben frowned at her. “We’re going to talk about that once we get seated,” he said.
“Ben!” a friendly female voice called out. “Take your usual table. I’ll be right there.”
He led the way and Heather noticed how relaxed he suddenly seemed. His CEO persona fell away and he seemed years younger. He waved at a few people and pulled a chair out at a cozy table by the window.
“They know you here,” Heather said, looking around.
“You know why?” he asked, and sat down opposite her.
“You own it?” she guessed.
Ben laughed and said, “I wish! No, it’s because I come here for lunch almost every day. You know why?”
“Because you’re hungry?” she guessed as she watched a pretty young woman walk over to him. “Or just like the scenery?”
“Uncalled for,” he said mildly. “Hi, Sharlene.”
She full on beamed at them both. Wearing black pants and a green shirt with a bit of holly in her hair, she looked like an adorable elf. Heather couldn’t help but smile back.
“Good to see you on this nasty night. Your power go off?”
“It did. Yours?”
“For a bit, but came back on, thank goodness. Have lots of hungry people to feed, you know,” she said, and then looked at Heather. “You want a menu?”
Hesitating, she looked at Ben. He’d ordered for her last time and she just bet he knew whatever was really good here.
“We’ll both have the chili and cornbread,” he said. “Hot chocolate first, then water with the soup, please.”
Okay, that sounded good, excellent in fact. Heather’s stomach growled loudly again in agreement.
“Now we need to talk about your eating habits,” he said sternly after Sharlene left to put in their order.
Startled, she looked at him. “What?” Now she was confused. Her eating habits? What concern of his was that?
“Yes. I’m paying you very good money to work hard for me, aren’t I?” he asked, but it didn’t really sound like a question, more like a statement of fact.
Which it was, she realized. “You are and I am.” She nodded and flicked a dark curl back under her ear.
“You are. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you from my store managers and vendors,” he said. “But I’m not overworking you. I need you to stop every day for at least half an hour to sit down, relax and eat something. If you need longer, take it, but I insist on this. I want you to text me where you’re eating and then send me a picture of your food when you get it.” He held up his hand as she started to protest. “This is now part of your job description.” He looked at her sternly. “Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” she said right before the hot chocolate arrived. Quickly, she grabbed hers to have something to do with her hands, and to warm them up. Great.
“Good,” Ben said. “Now tell me about the Santa school you attended today.”
Startled, she looked at him. How did he know she’d been there? Did she want to ask? Probably not. “I thought it would be good to go find out the ropes before the Santas got turned loose on the kids and customers.”
He nodded. “I agree. What did you learn that you didn’t already know?”
“That Santas can never promise toys or specific gifts. They can never get annoyed with a screaming or crying kid and even if the kid kicks or hits them, they will be gone in a minute and Santa has to let it go. And the parents always want pictures, no matter how rotten the kids act.” Heather sipped her hot chocolate.
Ben laughed. “That sounds about right. How many elves do you have and where are their outfits from?”
“The Santa place had a list of elves with their own costumes, and they are basically in charge of getting them and the Mrs. Clauses. There are two elves per Santa shift. We only have five Mrs. Clauses.” She pulled out the schedule for him as they went over it together. Heather loved the way his hand casually touched hers while they went down the list.
They continued to talk about the details and their food arrived in short order – steaming chili with hot savory cornbread and honey butter, yum.
“This looks wonderful,” she sighed to Sharlene.
“It is,” she agreed. “Ben has it a few times a week when it’s cold.”
“Just like Mom used to make,” he said as Sharlene joined in. She’d heard it before. Again, Heather felt that weird pang of jealousy. It was not fun and she didn’t like it. This feeling needed to go away.
Focusing on her food, she took a bite of the chili. Yes, it was very good, her favorite kind, with hamburger and beans, onions and peppers and just the right amount of spice. Eyes closed, she savored her mouthful.
“We’ll be here all night if that’s how you eat,” he said, semi-seriously. “No wonder you don’t take a lunch.”
“Never used to take a lunch. Do now. Don’t want my boss to—” Oh no! Quickly, Heather shoveled another mouthful in. She didn’t say that. She didn’t, almost, but not quite.
“Don’t want your boss to what?” he asked, eyes dancing.
“Dock my pay?” she answered, after she swallowed.
“I’m not a pay-docking kind of person,” he whispered. “I have other tricks, over my knee.”
Heather choked on her chili. She couldn’t help it, her cheeks flamed and she wanted to sink through the floor. This time he didn’t smile, but stared at her as he took another bite of chili. “Eat some cornbread,” he said, and as always, it didn’t sound like a suggestion.
Swallowing her chili, she took a sip of the ice water to cool her mouth and face, and then obediently took a bite of cornbread.
“Oh, that’s heaven,” she said after swallowing.
“Now you know why I eat here. It’s not just for the eye candy,” he said, picking up his glass.
Heather couldn’t help it, her foot shot out before she thought, and gave him a sharp kick in the calf. Why? He wasn’t her boyfriend. Why? He was her boss. Why? Had she gone insane? Apparently. Why?
Sliding out of the booth, she decided she’d make a break for it – head to the door, walk a few blocks and hail a cab.
But, his eyes fixed on hers and he said slowly, “Sit. Now.”
She sat. Right then. Heart pounding, she looked up, wishing for something to save her.
“Is that how you got fired from your last job?” he asked. “Do I need to worry about the customers and kids?”
“No sir, to all that.” She swallowed hard.
“Finish your chili,” he said. Why did his orders make her stomach flip? Well, it already was. She wasn’t certain she could eat, but she picked up her spoon and, squirming, wished she could sink through the floor or take
back the last two minutes. Heather hadn’t thought her cheeks could get redder, but she’d been wrong. She felt like a naughty two year old, and worse, she was certain he thought of her as the idiot teenager she used to be and how she’d just acted.
Opening her mouth, she started shoveling chili in as fast as she could chew and swallow, not looking at him again. Where was that scene cut they did in movies when you needed one?
“Chew properly or you’re going to choke,” he said, sternly.
“I won’t, either.” Heather felt like sticking her tongue out at him, but unlike her reflexive foot nudge – that’s all it was, she thought, just a nudge, not a kick – she managed to refrain from that. She was getting smarter already. But she stopped filling her mouth and took another drink of the ice water.
A Christmas carol played softly and the door chimed as a group of women came in, carrying copious amounts of shopping bags and chattering merrily. Eyeing them as they settled at a table across the room, she wished she felt as carefree as they all seemed to be. Everyone had problems, she reminded herself. What were Ben’s problems, she wondered.
“Have you gotten your Christmas shopping done?” she asked, putting a dark curl back behind her ear, trying to bring a semblance of normality back to their table.
“I’m a guy,” he said, dryly. “We don’t shop till the last minute, you know.”
“Oh, I’ve been in the stores the last few days. I’ve seen lots of guys shopping,” she said, teasing, trying desperately to get him to forget what she did.
“How about you? The boss giving you enough time off to shop?” He took another bite of chili.
The mood lightened, Heather felt a little better. Not much, but some. “He works me pretty hard, but that’s okay. I don’t have many to shop for, and we aren’t really doing Christmas this year. My folks are in the Bahamas and my brother is stationed in Guam. I’ll bring a bottle of wine to my friend’s house. What are you doing?” Should she have asked that?
“I’ll be going to my sister’s house,” he said. “It’ll be chaos with all the kids running around and all the extended family coming in.”
Once again, she felt a pang of jealousy, envy, something. She had that feeling way too often around him. “Like a Hallmark movie?” she murmured. “That’s how Christmas is supposed to be.”
Looking up into his eyes, she noticed an odd look come across his face. “Yeah, it’s fun. I enjoy going and can’t wait till I get home, back to the peace and quiet of my apartment.”
Heather remembered the teenager she’d hung out with. Jenny had been her roommate for their freshman year in college. After that, they ran into each other at parties often. Heather had been as wild and crazy as Jenny had been, and now, it seemed that Jenny had grown up to be a gracious hostess to a houseful of people. Did she cook a turkey and bring it out on a platter? Stay up late and wrap presents from Santa? Last time Heather had seen her, she’d been passed out in a bed across the room, while her brother paddled her then held her all night. Wondering if Jenny got a spanking from him, too, when she woke up, Heather again, wisely, decided not to ask. She’d gotten up, pulled up her pants and left, before either Jenny, Ben or the nameless guy in the bed woke up. Maybe nameless guy in the bed was now Jenny’s husband.
“Okay, tomorrow, we’re getting all the stages set for the Santas,” she told him, changing the subject again. “I’ll be in all the stores, supervising it.”
Ben nodded. “I’d like pictures throughout the day as they get set up, as well as the picture of the lunch you eat.”
Heather opened her mouth to protest, but shut it again. She’d stuck her foot in it way too much today, as well as nudging him with it. She didn’t want to make things worse by complaining about a lunch text.
Continuing to talk about the details involved in getting the vignettes set up, she realized she’d eaten all her chili and the cornbread when Sharlene came over and took their plates away. Smiling up at her, Ben held up two fingers and the server nodded. What was that about?
She found out just a few short minutes later when a big plate of what smelled like hot gingerbread was placed in front them, along with a huge dollop of whipped cream. Inhaling deeply, she couldn’t help but smile at Sharlene. “Just like his mom used to make?” she asked, pertly.
“Wouldn’t know, now, would I?” she said. “Enjoy.”
Savoring her first bite, Heather shut her eyes in delighted happiness. “Oh,” she sighed.
“Just so you know, yes, this is my mom’s recipe,” he said, quietly.
Her eyes flew open and she stared at him. “What? Is she the cook here?” Was she going to meet his mom? Why did that suddenly scare the hell out of her?
Ben laughed. “Nope. This was her first café, though. She had about four of them by the time she retired a few years ago. That’s why I was taking care of Jenny so much. Our folks always worked, mom cooked and ran the cafés, dad was a doctor, and it was something I could do to help out.”
“Yeah, you were a helper.” She squirmed in her seat, but took another bite of gingerbread anyway.
“I never met any of Jenny’s friends who needed a good spanking as badly as you did.” Ben dipped his finger in his whipped cream and touched her lips with it, taking the sting out of his words a little bit. “Sadly, you seem to be all but begging for another one. If you think I’m not taking notes and racking up points, you are sadly mistaken.”
What did that even mean? He was going to... her mouth suddenly went dry even as her tongue darted out to lick the whipped cream from her lips. She could all but taste him on her. Where did her mind just go? From being over his knee to being on hers. Wrong, wrong, wrong, he was her boss, after all!
“I think I better go,” she said, faintly and began fumbling for her wallet in her purse.
“Don’t even think about it,” he leaned closer and warned.
“Think about what? Leaving or paying?” If she didn’t ask, how was she to know?
Laughing, Ben pulled his wallet out. “Both. I’ll pay and I’ll take you home.”
Instantly, Heather wanted to panic. She did not want him in her apartment. She barely wanted to be in a moving car, with her seatbelt firmly fastened, in her bucket seat, with a console in between them.
Who did she not trust, she wondered. Him or her? Or was it simply that big strong hand at the end of his arm she knew for a fact could make her bawl like a baby?
Chapter 3
“No. Santa getting peed on by a toddler is not a reason for disability. Santa can still come back to work. He better be there when I get there, or he’s fired,” Heather said as sweetly as she could manage. Clicking off her phone, she smiled, remembering the old Christmas movie she’d watched last night where irritated people could slam a phone down emphatically. Now all you could do was just push a button. That had to have been so satisfying to do – the slam thing. It would have made a statement.
Heading down the hall to her elevator, she ran down her list of things to do. It was four days into the Santa Wrangling Project as she called it in her head. She’d been working for a few weeks, getting things ready, but four days since the Santas, elves and photographers came on scene.
She’d spend most of Thanksgiving watching Christmas movies to stay in the spirit and eating the turkey breast she’d cooked, with some homemade cornbread dressing her grandma had taught her how to make and a pumpkin pie picked up on the corner. It was fine, she’d told herself, knowing she’d have to be at work before five in the morning. Rest would be good, mentally and physically. She did not once think of Ben at Jenny’s house of family and Hallmark perfection, not one single time.
Black Friday had gone by in a haze of chaos and crazy and crying kids. The parents weren’t much better either. When had kids gotten so special and spoiled? If she’d acted like some of them had, her parents, instead of glaring at Santa and demanding a manager and compensation – for a free visit to Santa! – would have taken her outside and dealt with her. Apparently paren
ts didn’t deal with their kids anymore. Who knew?
She did, now.
The weekend had been calmer, though not by much, but Monday, today, had started in on the complaints on the other side. The Santas acted as if they didn’t know kids would act like children. Bodily functions abounded. Screams pierced the air as often as a sweet, adorable kid whispered a secret want into a Santa’s ear.
The elves complained the kids wanted more than a candy cane from Santa and half the moms complained about sugar while the other half wanted to know why their special snowflake couldn’t take the entire basket of candy if he wanted it.
The photographers said that too many people were using zoom on their cell phones despite the signs asking people to not take pictures, thus not buying pictures. She made a note to change some of the vignettes around to block some of that.
So far the Mrs. Clauses all seemed fairly content. Heather tried not to wonder what they slipped in those deep apron pockets to sip on between kids. Hey, at this point if it was working for them, it was working for her. She wasn’t going to tell the boss that, though, when she saw him this afternoon.
She hadn’t realized how much retail stores changed at Christmas. From the decor, to the music piped constantly, to the overworked workers getting more hours and less time off than they had just a few weeks ago, the entire atmosphere was almost electrically charged. Not to mention, every inch was crammed with merchandise and seasonal decor. “Happy Holidays” as well as “Merry Christmas” chirped from employees’ and customers’ lips and she hadn’t heard one complaint from anyone about either one. She really thought all the butt hurt she saw on Facebook over the “Happy Holidays” was more something for people to pretend upset them, than anything else. It seemed a non-issue.
