My Secret Santa's Secret Baby

It was true. One of the advantages of having books for friends, in addition to learning how to read at an early age, was that I soon got to a level of proficiency that allowed me to polish off a mid-sized novel in a day or two.

On the upside, there was enough money in my allowance to keep me supplied. To stop complaints about there being books all over the house, I had opted for digital editions, usually EPUB, on my tablet. I especially liked the type of file where the pages actually looked like they were turning and imitated the sound of the paper scraping which was a nice touch.

It was a silly little feature, but I appreciated it. I felt like it got me closer to the real thing.

“And how about here at the office, how are things going?” Simon pressed. “Getting along with everyone?”

“In a way,” I said.

“In a way?”

“There hasn’t been any conflict.” I shrugged. “So that’s good. We all just get on with our work.”

“True,” Simon conceded.

“I’d like to make friends, or at least acquaintances, but I don’t want to force it. I know it won’t work that way.”

“Very wise.”

“Sam and Inga seem nice,” I tried.

“Oh, they are. Inga can be a bit of an odd duck, but she can also be really fun and interesting, given the right context. Just don’t ever mention tacos around her.”

“Why?” I asked, genuinely interested.

“Bad experience, trust me. Donairs are likely best avoided as well.”

“Noted,” I said, with a cheeky little salute.

His smiled, giving me pause. Then he winked, setting off another flood south of my border. I tried to play it cool, but fuck if blue flickering flames of desire didn’t light up in my eyes. I was fairly sure he could see them.

Simon had to go back to work, which saved me the risk of any further embarrassment, even though I was fairly sure he was low-key flirting with me. I really didn’t have enough experience to know for sure, but that was what it seemed like.

Regaining the use of my legs, I went to my cubicle, the manuscript in my case, planning to get it done before lunch.

But there was something else on my desk.

It didn’t look like much.

Small and square, wrapped in bright green seasonal wrapping paper.

There were carefully folded pieces of paper taped to the top, looking like a bit of origami. My first name was written on it in tight, precise handwriting. The deep black ink stood out bold against the high fiber paper, clearly written with a fountain pen, if not a quill.

Pulling it firmly off, careful not to rip the rest of the packaging, I unfolded the paper, which turned out to be a note. Composed in the same fine hand in pitch black ink, it informed me that the gift was from my Secret Santa and also that it was one of many more to come. Folding up the note and putting it into my pocket to keep, I started on the gift.

Using the approach that I’d been taught as a kid, I lifted each of the edges and then along the middle. Folding down one side and then the other, I revealed a distinctive blue box. The company name was printed on the lid in black.

Tiffany & Co.

I just stared at it, assuming there must be some kind of mistake. I got the pieces of paper back out and double-checked the name written on the other side of them. It was definitely my name and I didn’t think there were any other Skyes in the department. I thought I would have noticed.

Approaching the box like it might bite, I lifted the lid. Were I not in the cubicle, I likely would have fallen down from the way I backed up so fast. Sitting in the box were two of the most beautiful sapphires I had ever seen. Even better, they were set into solid silver backings, constituting a pair of earrings.

I had seen the earrings before. Not in reality, of course, but just an image of them online. I really liked sapphires and would sometimes look them up just to admire their beauty. I could have never afforded them, though. The set on my desk ran upwards of $10,000.

I had definitely lucked out in the Secret Santa Department.

And I couldn’t help but hope I knew who mine was.Chapter Nine - SkyeMy ears hurt. I couldn’t stand the idea of taking the earrings out and had left them in overnight. This turned out to be a mistake. I checked but there was no blood, which was a mark in the good column.

Easing them out of ears, I left them in the box as I went to shower. Decked out in my carefully selected outfit, already evolving a plan for which type of pastry to bring into the office next, I slipped the beautiful little rocks back into place.