Page 9 of Wrapped Up with the Three Scrooges

“The door wasn’t exactly soundproof or shut all the way.” She straightened her spine, defiance flickering across her features. “And she’s right. Everyone down there looks miserable.”

“You don’t know the first thing about running a successful business.” I stood, towering over her. “This isn’t some mom-and-pop gift-wrapping station. We handle millions in merchandise for high-profile clients who expect perfection.”

“Joy and perfection aren’t mutually exclusive,” she muttered.

“I’m giving you one more chance.” I planted my hands on the desk, leaning forward. “No more singing. No more disruptions. No more questioning how I run my company. Are we clear?”

She nodded, another tear escaping. “Crystal clear, sir.”

That ‘sir’ again. I gritted my teeth against the unwanted response it triggered. “Get back to work.”

She stood on shaky legs and headed for the door. Before she left, she turned back. “Thank you for the second chance, Mr. Gray. I won’t let you down.”

The door closed behind her, and I collapsed into my chair, running a hand over my face. The image of her tears wouldn’t leave my mind, and neither would the nagging feeling that there was more to her story.

A voice in my head that sounded suspiciously like Janet’s reminded me that happy employees were productive employees. But another voice, one shaped by years of experience and betrayal, warned me that letting my guard down led to disaster.

I pushed away from my desk and walked to the window. Below, Emery had returned to her station, her shoulders hunched as Blake hovered nearby. A prickling unease crept over me at the sight.

It’s business.

But as I watched her mechanically wrap another present, her spark completely dampened, I couldn’t quite convince myself it was true.

Chapter Five

Emery

Ibehaved myself for exactly two days before the complete lack of holiday spirit broke me. Walking into that sterile break room several times a day was like entering a joy vacuum, and I couldn’t take it anymore. Which is how I found myself skulking around one of the loading bays at six on Wednesday morning, laden with bags full of Christmas cheer that I really shouldn’t have spent money on.

Thank the Christmas gods for the dollar store.

Christmas was my favorite holiday, and since I didn’t have a house to decorate, my work environment was the next best thing. Besides, if I couldn’t make my own space festive, at least I could spread some joy to my coworkers who seemed about as cheerful as department store mannequins in January.

“Morning Jerry!” I called out to the sleepy-looking shipping guy, who waved me through with a grunt. The early shift people were my kind of crowd—too caffeine-deprived to question my suspicious behavior.

The break room looked even more depressing with fluorescent lighting, and the motivational posters seemed to mock me with their joyless messages. I pulled out my phone and set my “Christmas Chaos” playlist to a low volume, just enough to keep me company without alerting the fun police.

“All right room, prepare to be jollified!” I dumped my bags on the nearest table.

I worked quickly, knowing I had about an hour before the first wave of wrapping crew started arriving. Red tablecloths with different holiday prints and plastic candy dishes shaped like Santa’s boots transformed the boring tables into festive eating spaces.

The mini tree was my masterpiece. It was pre-lit and barely two feet tall, but was covered in tiny, wrapped packages and miniature wrapping supplies. I positioned it proudly on the counter next to the coffee maker, where its twinkling lights reflected off the glass pot. “Take that, Scrooge central.”

Next, I stuck giant magnets to the refrigerator doors, making the two eyesores look like presents. The cabinet doors got similar treatment, though I left the handles accessible. To finish the faux presents, I placed bows on them.

The bulletin board was next. I covered the not-so-motivational signs with construction paper, added a tasteful holiday border, and hung instructions to use the blue mounting putty I left on the counter to hang Christmas family photos. A string of warm white lights framed the whole thing.

By the time I finished hanging paper snowflakes from the ceiling tiles, the room actually looked welcoming. Like somewhere you might want to spend your lunch break instead of plotting your escape.

I headed back out to my car to grab the last bag from my trunk. Inside was my pièce de résistance; a motion-activateddancing Santa that played “All I Want for Christmas Is You.” Maybe a bit much, but sometimes you have to go big or go home.

I was so focused on my contraband Christmas cargo that I didn’t notice the person coming around the corner until I slammed right into a solid wall of chest.

“Oof!” The bag went flying as firm hands steadied me. I looked up into Max’s surprised face and my stomach dropped. “Oh... hi! You’re here early. Or I’m here early. We’re both early. Early birds getting the... Christmas worms?”

His eyes traveled from my face to the bag now spilling its contents across the floor. Dancing Santa had broken free and chose that moment to spring to life, gyrating and belting out Mariah Carey’s holiday anthem.

“Where are you headed with that?” His eyes went to the break room door that was slightly ajar with an upbeat Christmas tune softly floating into the hallway.

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