I Know What You Did Last Christmas

by Briggs, Laura

  With a shriek, she ducked behind the nearest rock to hide. Her arm appeared a moment later, lobbing a large snowball at him. Before he could dodge to the side, it smacked him in the forehead.

  "That's for stealing my parking space at work!" she shouted. "And this is for changing my cell number on Downey's speed dial!" Another snowball flew over the top, missing him by inches as he ducked behind a nearby holly bush.

  "You knew about that?" he yelled back. His fingers packed a handful of snow into a thick orb.

  "Of course! After I missed about four meetings." Her head appeared briefly above the stone barrier, ducking low as his missile flew past. "Why do you think your personnel planner went missing afterwards?" She referred to his "little black book" of phone numbers for potential dates.

  That was it. It was war from here on out. With a yell, he grabbed a handful of snow and charged over the shrubbery towards a shrieking Lisel.

  He forgot how much the deep snow would impede his movements. Stumbling, he fell deep into the drifts, surrounded by walls of frozen white. He struggled to turn and get his feet beneath him, feeling small clumps of snow crumble away from the walls and powder his hair. He looked up at the sound of footsteps crunching above him to see Lisel peering into the hole.

  "Told you," she said, as a silly grin spread across her face. She tucked a few strands of stray gold beneath her tam, her blue eyes filled with mirth.

  It must have been the cold and snow freezing his brain. Because for a moment she looked absolutely beautiful.

  *****

  Lisel stormed through the hall, avoiding eye contact with the coworkers she passed. Now wasn't the time for casual workplace conversation, since she was on a mission.

  She pushed open the door to the coffee room, her gaze zeroing in on Marc as he peeled open a bag of coffee. She entered and closed the door behind her, leaning against it to prevent interruption.

  "Who did you tell?" Her tone was icy.

  He glanced up. "About what?" A slightly guilty look crossed his face.

  "About last Christmas," she hissed. "How could you, Marc? We agreed that we would never mention it to anyone." She crossed her arms as she paced across the room.

  The guilty look had vanished, replaced by confusion. "What are you talking about?" he asked. "I didn't tell anyone about that." He dumped a cupful of beans into a grinder.

  "They're all talking about us staying at the same lodge last Christmas," she answered. "Now people are going to think we're hiding something."

  "Aren't we?" he added, sarcastically.

  "That's not the point; the point is, everybody will be talking about it."

  "So? What does it matter?" he answered, flipping the switch on the coffee grinder. She opened her mouth to speak, but a loud roar drowned out her words. "Lots of people stay at the same hotels at the same time. Relax, no one's going to assume we planned it that way."

  She reached over and flipped the switch off. "Do you have to do that while we're in the middle of a conversation?" she asked.

  "If I want a cup of coffee, yeah." He flipped the switch back on.

  She turned it off and gave him a no-nonsense stare. "If rumors get started –" she began. "You know how I feel about this, Marc." She blocked his way to the switch, giving him a warning look.

  "Relax." He let go of the coffee grinder and stowed the coffee bean sack in the fridge. "I won't mention it again to anyone. Promise." He dumped the fresh grounds into a paper filter.

  She met his eyes, her own filled with pleading. "Please, Marc. Just do this for me."

  He shrugged. "Your wish is my command. I won't mention anything about the trip to anyone."

  She moved away from him as the door opened and two more people entered the coffee room.

  "I guess I'll email you the schedule later, then," she said, giving him a too-bright smile as she turned to go.

  At her desk, she gathered her notes for the afternoon meeting with Downey. She logged onto her computer and checked the last date of use for her calendar. Despite her irritation, a slight smile flickered across her face.

  Marc had obviously accessed her files this morning. No doubt planning to cancel the reservations at the last minute. Little did he know about the secret schedule in her hidden folder, with a second set of reservations for the real event.

  A private box viewing of the speed skating trials and dinner at a prestigious local sports bar. Top that, Marc Romez. This time she wasn't making any announcements to Downey before the big event. This time, she wasn't giving him a chance to undo her plans before they were in motion.

  Janine from cover design slowed as she passed the cubicle's opening. "Hey, Lisel," she said, lingering in the doorway. "Any big plans for Christmas this year?"

  "No," Lisel answered. "Just a quiet year at home." She stuffed her paperwork into her briefcase.

  "Need a rest after the big ski trip last year, huh?" said Janine. "Say, wasn't that weird about you and Marc having reservations at the same place? I'll bet that drove you crazy."

  "Actually, I didn't see him," Lisel answered, as she rose from her chair. "There was so much to do I was busy the whole week." She strode from the cubicle, heading for the elevator.

  As she passed the mail cart, she spotted Marc lounging against it, chatting with a couple of coworkers.

  "I'll bet you had a killer time on the ski slopes last Christmas," said Greg. "Is that moonlight sleigh ride what it's cracked up to be? My wife's dying to go."

  "I wouldn't know," she heard Marc answer. "They cancelled all the activities due to a blizzard. I got stuck at the hotel the whole week."

  Lisel's eyes sank closed. Clearly, they needed to have another talk.

  *****

  "So what's the plan on the Levitz and Stacy account?" Marc pushed the button for the twelfth floor. "I'm sure by now you've come up with what 'we' intend to do." He shot her a tight smile.

  "Oh, I don't know. I figured we'd just wait around for one of your last-minute brainstorms," she answered. "Maybe I don't feel like trying to actually do our jobs this time."

  "Sounds good to me." He pulled a packet of breath mints from his pocket and popped a few. "Want some?" he asked, holding it out.

  She stared at him, incredulously. "Seriously?" she answered.

  "Yeah, there's like, twenty in here." He shook the container. She rolled her eyes.

  "You know I'm talking about your attitude, Marc. The one that's going to get us both fired someday." As the elevator doors opened, she marched out. "You're really okay with going into a meeting totally unprepared. With no idea how we're going to secure a contract with Levitz and Stacy."

  "Oh, that. I already have a couple of ideas," he answered. "Like, something baseball-themed, for instance. Or maybe a private box at a sports event."

  She forced a look of complete surprise to her face. "How did you–" she began. "No, that's impossible. You couldn't possibly have made the same connections I did."

  "Great minds think alike," he answered, pushing open the conference room door. He didn't notice the smile tugging at her lips as she took a seat at the conference table. This was one time Marc wasn't going to win. She had the second set of reservations in her bag, ready to trump his presentation.

  "So, what do you two have in mind for the Levitz and Stacy contract?" Downey glanced up from his open report.

  "Actually, sir," she began, "Romez and I have only started tossing a few ideas around. Nothing concrete, but I'll have him go first." She glanced in Marc's direction with a smile.

  "We were thinking about something old-school. Specifically, renting Hoppy's Hamburger for an all-night extravaganza." Marc moved to the multimedia projector and turned on the slide show, plastering the conference room wall with the fast-food legend's icon.

  Lisel's mouth dropped open. "But–" she began, her voice squeaking slightly.

  "Given the duo's penchant for late nights and fast food, we think it's the perfect choice. Not to mention the restaurant's history as a hangout for t
he local skater and derby crowds." He clicked through a few snapshots, now decades old, of youth in skates and rollerblades posing in and outside the restaurant.

  "Loud music, grilled burgers, and vintage fixtures. What's not to love– especially if it lands a book deal worth millions, eh?" Marc snapped off the projector and slid into his chair again.

  He met Lisel's eye with a little wink. She was still frozen, her face reflecting a mixture of horror and anger.

  "Brilliant," Downey was saying. "I can't believe you guys come up with this stuff overnight."

  Marc shrugged. "What can I say? Great minds." He tapped the side of his head as a few board members laughed.

  Downey's face turned serious for a moment. "Just remember, we're on a budget, here. Keep this event under the line, okay." He glanced between Lisel and Marc as he spoke. "Other than that, have fun with it."

  "You got it." Marc answered. As Downey moved onto the subject of the spring line, he gathered his presentation and rose from the table.

  She caught up with him in the hall as he pressed the button for the elevator. Practically shoving him inside, she pressed the button for their office floor.

  "How could you humiliate me like that!" she hissed. "There I was, with my notes, prepared to make this deal–"

  "How about what you were planning to do to me?" he interrupted. "Yeah, I knew you were setting me up, Lisel. How could I not? You haven't taken a suggestion from me seriously since the day we started working together."

  "You read my private computer files!" she shot back. "Like I didn't know that you hacked into my account," she added, as he averted his eyes. "Who was it who changed our game plan last time?"

  "Only because you wouldn't listen to my idea in the first place," he answered. "You push your ideas to the front and close the debate before we can even come up with something together."

  She bit her lip, unable to comfortably deny it. "That's because your ideas aren't appropriate for the company's image sometimes," she answered, eyes trained on the floor.

  "Yeah, well, they sure manage to land enough accounts, don't they?" he said. He turned to face the opposite wall, resting his weight on the elevator's hand rail.

  Her heart stung beneath his words, but she couldn't think of a retort. I wouldn't have to push so hard if he didn't always think he was so right. She drummed her fingers against the rail as her mind struggled to escape this train of thought.

  Last Christmas, he thought he was right about something, too. But everything since then had proven him wrong; of that she was perfectly certain.

  So why did everything right now feel connected to that stupid mistake?

  "Speaking of coincidences, I can't believe you didn't run into Marc when you guys were staying at the same lodge," Deb remarked, hanging a silver ball on the newly-delivered office Christmas tree.

  Lisel rolled her eyes. One week later and the subject of her previous Christmas kept cropping up with a persistence that annoyed her. Every question about her plans for this Christmas somehow got paired with a recollection or remark about last year. Apparently everybody in the office was fascinated with the subject of skiing.

  "Well, we just didn't cross paths," she answered, trying to untangle a snarl of tinsel around a pinecone ornament. "I mean, anybody could have been staying there. Humphrey Bogart could have been a guest and I wouldn't have seen him." The ornament slipped from her grasp and fell to the floor, skittering beneath the tree.

  She bent down and strained her arm to reach it. "Besides, you know Marc. He's only interested in making a romantic connection in public. No time for meaningful activities like reading books or enjoying a good fire."

  Janine laughed. "Wouldn't it have been funny if there had been something between you two?" she said. "I mean, if any two people but you guys had crossed paths, I'd be pretty curious about the details after a whole week snowbound in a woodland resort."

  "Well, there's nothing to tell," Lisel answered. She threaded a hook on the ornament and stuffed it on a branch.

  "But you told me you were super busy that weekend," Deb chimed in. "If it was snowed in, what did you find to do? Assemble puzzles in the lounge?"

  "Hey, that can be fun," Ed called out defensively from behind his cubicle walls. Deb rolled her eyes.

  "I had a good book. I told you," Lisel repeated. "Plus, I went for a walk in the woods. It was just a relaxing Christmas break."

  Surely it was time to change the subject before someone else remembered a slight difference between her version of events and Marc's. If he had a version at all– she dreaded to think of him blurting bits and pieces of the story without realizing it.

  Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? I didn't think we needed a secret pact to avoid the obvious. Why would he want to even think about it, much less mention it to someone else?

  She pushed aside the ornament box. "This year I'm definitely looking forward to spending the holidays at home," she volunteered. "No more snowbound ski resorts for me."

  "Even when the company's that good?" Janice winked in Deb's direction. Their mutual glance lasted barely a second, but Lisel couldn't help but see it. A feeling of panic rose in her throat.

  This idea was starting to capture way too much imagination for her comfort.

  *****

  Lisel sat up and brushed the snow from her hair. The deep drifts surrounding the Elk Run Lodge were almost too deep for her tastes, especially when being clobbered by snowballs.

  "Truce?" Marc's fingers curved around her elbow as he stood above her.

  "Truce," she answered. He pulled her to her feet, steadying her against him. She could feel the warmth radiating beneath his coat, the soft fibers of his scarf against her cheek. What surprised her was the missing urge to push him away.

  "So, did you get all your pent-up workplace frustrations out of your system?" he asked, releasing her as he trudged towards the ornamental rock she had used as a shield.

  "I wouldn't have so many if it wasn't for this really annoying coworker," she replied, brushing the snow from her hair. "He drives me nuts with all the things he does."

  "You mean, dragging you out into the snow to have a good time?" he said, brushing off a place on one of the rock's ledges.

  "I would have found my way out here eventually," she answered. "On my own terms. Besides, you didn't drag anyone, as I recall. You stomped away like a little boy who didn't get his way."

  He settled himself on the cleared ledge. "You didn't have to be so stubborn about it, just because it was my idea."

  She waded past him into a clear patch of snow, carefully counting the windows above her. She turned to face the dining room and fell backwards into the snow. Slowly, waving her arms and legs in a flapping motion as she disappeared from sight.

  "What are you doing?" She heard Marc's voice, slightly muffled by the snow walls around her. Lying at the bottom, she gazed up at the pale grey sky above as gentle flurries brushed her cheeks and nose.

  "Making a snow angel," she answered, scrambling up slowly to avoid destroying the pattern. Carefully, she waded away from the depression in the snow.

  "The snow's too deep," he answered. "That doesn't look like anything but a hollow spot in the snow."

  "From here, maybe," she answered. "But not from where I stand." She moved towards the woods, brushing the weight of snow from her scarf and hat. His footsteps trudged along behind her.

  "Stubborn," he commented. "Every time I make a suggestion, you brush it off. You're always right, aren't you?" His voice was teasing, but the words annoyed her.

  "Are you sure we're not talking about you? Because last I checked, it was Mr. Ego Mania who was so right in choosing the beefalo restaurant venue for our vegetarian would-be author." She glanced over her shoulder with a mocking smile.

  He looked slightly hurt. "How was I supposed to know that a Western history enthusiast hated the cuisine?"

  "Maybe by paying attention to the meticulous research I do." She spread her arms in a helpless gesture. "I
don't do all this work just for me, Marc."

  "You could've put a copy of it on my desk, instead of holding it hostage so you could control what venue we picked," he shot back.

  "That's because–" she began. But he laid a finger softly against her lips.

  "I thought we called a truce," he said. She met his dark eyes, feeling warmth flood through her veins as she gazed into them.

  "We did," she answered. His hand moved softly from her face to her back, steering her gently in the direction of the woods. She let him lead, allowing the moment of silence to stretch on. Shoving her hands in her pocket for warmth, she slowed her steps until he was forced to move past her, forging a path into the woods with his steps.

  Snow hung over the tree branches in a white canopy, decorated with pine cones gleaming beneath ice crystals. Icicles stretched from bare grey limbs, reflecting the cold light around them.

  Lisel sucked in her breath. "It's beautiful," she whispered. "It's like a Christmas tree all done in silver and white. I thought places like this only existed in movies or theater stages. I almost expect sugar plum fairies and snowflakes to come dancing from behind the trees." She hugged herself against the cold.

  "I don't think any woodland creatures are gonna perform The Nutcracker for us," Marc responded. He brushed the snow away from rails of a bridge crossing an icy creek. "Say, that ice is probably thick enough; we should go skating."

  "Yeah, except we need skates," she reminded him. "I kind of left those out of my bag to make room for the ski gear and party dress I won't be needing."

  "I could rent a couple of pairs from the pro shop," he answered. "Maybe round up a thermos of cocoa to go."

  The way he said 'I' instead of 'we' made her blush unexpectedly. She wasn't accustomed to thinking of him as chivalrous.

  "I don't know," she said. She joined him at the rail, resting her elbows on it. It was the first time she had stood this close to him on purpose, barring rides in the elevator or lines to the office coffee machine.