“He what?” He’d asked me out three days ago.
“It was a whirlwind or some such nonsense. They’d done six parties together and lightning struck or something stupid. I get lust—but eloping? What is wrong with people?”
“They couldn’t elope tomorrow?”
“It was more romantic to get married on Christmas Eve.”
“That’s tomorrow.” I jammed my knuckle into my mouth to stop the insanity-tinged howl. I could feel it coming from somewhere south of my toes. Maybe the hell that was my life.
It was Christmas, goddammit. Where was their Christmas spirit?
“Evidently, they were going for a beachy wedding on Christmas Eve thing in Hawaii.”
And here I was worried I was underpaying my people. I certainly couldn’t afford to go to Hawaii. I could get away with a pamphlet and time-share lecture maybe.
Not that it mattered. I didn’t want to go to Hawaii. I wanted my freaking Santa here at my last party of the year.
Not just any party. Murdock Home Stores, the largest department store in New York City besides Macy’s, had hired me to do their Christmas party this year. This would put my party planning company Kandy Kane Dreams on the map. Nothing could screw this up.
We’d been squeaking out each month by the skin of my teeth—and savings account—for months to get to November. The Christmas season usually put me and my people in the black for at least four months. This party had guaranteed the better part of the next year.
But not if I didn’t have a Santa for the forty-plus children who would be descending on the party in a little less than an hour. I’d be ruined faster than I’d made it.
Okay. I could make this work.
I had no choice.
Blowing my bangs out of my eyes, I sighed. “Wait, does this mean I don’t have an elf either?”
“That would be correct.”
I closed my eyes. Breathe. In and out. I could do this.
I reached down next to me and pulled my bag onto my lap, then reached for the little black zipper pouch I kept for emergencies.
“This is why you’re my goddess.” Mel’s eyes were locked on my hands.
I paused with the striped tights in my hand. “Because I keep elf stockings in my purse?”
“No. Because you always have a Plan B.” Mel tugged out the rubber band at the end of her braid. “Now, we just have to get you all elf-ified.”
“You know, I started my own business so I wouldn’t have to be an elf anymore.” I kicked off my red, suede ankle boots. “And we still need a Santa.”
Mel dug out her makeup. “One disaster at a time.”
Chapter 3
Scrooge
“You have to make an appearance.” Parker folded his arms and leaned back in his wide, black leather chair. He was in a charcoal vest with a tasteful red noose around his neck. A white dress shirt—perfectly pressed and probably starched—was buttoned all the way up, and his jacket hung off the back of his chair.
The perfect corporate face of our company, that was my brother.
I was the one who ended up in the warehouses when there was trouble. I liked to be more hands-on with the company. Parker preferred his numbers and spreadsheets. Handily, he was the CFO by default. Which was fine by me. I’d rather get out of th
e office when I could.
As it was my office was barely used. Have laptop and iPad, would travel. Again, fine by me. I preferred to be in a monkey suit as little as possible. Honestly, I wouldn’t even be the CEO if my old man hadn’t passed away. Stress and the eternal butt spread of sitting at a desk all day had done him in.