Chapter One
Elly
It was the most wonderful time of the year—not. It was getting colder every day, all of my favorite radio stations were playing holiday music instead of what I wanted to hear, and I couldn’t even go to the grocery store without being guilt-tripped into donating money to the Salvation Army. It seemed like the festivities started earlier every year. The holiday decorations in my city had been up since the day after Halloween, and I was ready for the season to be over before the turkeys went on sale for Thanksgiving. I was almost certain that one day, kids were going to be dressed as elves and snowmen on the last day of October, so they could collect candy from people in ugly sweaters and Santa Claus costumes.
I couldn’t even escape the holiday season at work because everyone in the office seemed to be obsessed with creating the perfect Winter Wonderland. I thought they should be focused on the mountain of work that needed to be done—not wasting company time on something they would have to tear down in a couple of months. The Christmas Mafia, as I liked to call them, was led by an older lady named Mary Smith. She looked like the real-life version of Mrs. Claus—and acted like the most important thing she did around the office was enforcing holiday cheer.
“Elly, you haven’t decorated your stocking yet!” Mary walked up to my desk and pointed at the stocking that had been lying there for almost a week. “It was supposed to be done before you left on Friday!”
“I had a lot of work to do.” I gave her a side-eyed glance and grumbled under my breath. “I’ll staple a bow on it before I leave today.”
“And put your name on it? And hang it up?” She furrowed her brow and narrowed her eyes at me.
“Yes, Mary. I’ll take care of it.” I nodded quickly.
Just so you don’t have to make another trip to my desk.
“Good.” A smile spread across her face. “There are cookies in the break room if you want one. I made snow-people!”
Of course you did.
“Thanks.” I forced a smile and kept working.
That’s a hard pass.
Despite my animosity towards the Christmas Mafia and Mary’s festive cheer, I wasn’t born with a hatred for the holidays. The little girl that used to run down the stairs on Christmas morning would have been appalled to see what the twenty-one-year-old version of herself would become if she had a magic mirror to see the future. She was so vibrant and happy—she loved to sing Jingle Bells and watch National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation from the top of the stairs when her parents thought she was in bed.
That little girl had no idea that her parents were going to get divorced when she was twelve years old. She didn’t know that she would be traded between the two people she loved most every holiday—until her father remarried, and a new baby took her place in his life. Hugs, kisses and bedtime stories turned into phone calls with his new wife in the background, yelling that she needed him to get off the phone and help with the baby. Then that little girl watched the same thing happen in the only home she had left when a man swept her mother off her feet.
That little girl was forced to grow up way too fast.
“Your stocking still isn’t decorated…” Mary passed my desk shortly after lunch and motioned to the stocking that hadn’t moved from the spot it was in earlier.
“I told you that I would take care of it before I left today.” I glared at her until I was sure she wasn’t going to stop.
“Why do you have all that Scrooge in your voice, Elly?” Another coworker, a petite blonde named Maggie, walked up behind me. “Are you going to start tearing down the Christmas decorations and yelling bah humbug at us?”
“I didn’t do that last year, did I?” I stopped typing and turned towards her.
“You were still kind of new last year. Everyone thought you were shy.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “This year, people think you just hate Christmas. I told them that was crazy. Nobody hates Christmas.”
You would be surprised….
“I’m just trying to get my work done.” I motioned to my computer. “Mr. Thornton gave me a shot at designing the online ad-copy for Dillinger’s Department Store. I’d rather make sure I don’t screw that up than decorate a stocking…”