Page 3 of The Cowboy's Christmas Baby
Vanessa leaned across the round, white, cafeteria-style table in the store lunchroom, which doubled as an office. Staff knew to abort if they walked in on a supervisor and an employee in a one-on-one conversation outside of break time.
Like now.
“Maybe you weren’t cut out to be a Christmas elf,” Vanessa said kindly, as if the two women weren’t the same age, right down to the week, month, and year.
Tate couldn’t imagine a world in which someone woke up and decided,I want to be a Christmas elf for the rest of my life. Then again, she hadn’t planned on working as a cashier in a big-box store for more than a few months either, so anything could happen.
The worst part of it was, there weren’t many other employment opportunities available in Grand for a twenty-five-year-old high school dropout who’d spent seven years barrel racing on the rodeo circuit. A good grasp of customer service hadn’t been something she’d needed.
Knowing how to deal with men and their grabby hands was. A tsunami of indignation swelled, forcing her to restate her side of events. “Santa put his hand up my skirt.” Right after he’d badgered her into sitting on his lap toshow the children how easy this is.
“I understand. But, um, ringing his… jingle bells… might not have been the appropriate response.”
There was a better response for being groped?
Tate folded her arms and crossed her legs, bumping her knee on the underside of the table. Her brothers, if they’d seen the battle light up in her eyes, would have advised Vanessa to run. “What was I supposed to do?”Enlighten me, please.
Vanessa carried on, blithely oblivious. “Report it to your immediate supervisor—which would be me—so that the incident can be documented. Then, we sit down with human resources to discuss what the next steps, if any, should be.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You’re kidding me, right?”
Vanessa was not. “I might have been able to overlook this if there weren’t at least thirty kids lined up, waiting to have their pictures taken with Santa, who saw the whole thing.”
“You think their parents want them sitting on that creepy old perv’s lap after he grabbed my ass? I did them a favor.”
Vanessa winced. “Ithinkthose poor little kids might have wanted to believe in the magic of Santa a little while longer. At least until after Christmas. Plus, Carl has been our store Santa for thirteen years and we’ve had zero complaints. Not a one.”
Tate found that equally hard to believe. “How many elves have quit on you in those same years?”
“This isChristmas, Tate. Show a little holiday spirit and get over it, for Pete’s sake. He’s a harmless old man from a different generation.”
“Just because he’s old doesn’t mean he can’t get a stiffy. If erectile dysfunction is what you meant by harmless,” Tate added. “Ask me how I know.”
“Tate.” Vanessa cupped round, flaming cheeks in her plump, beringed hands. “He says it was an accident. You overreacted. Let’s agree to disagree on this, shall we?”
Tate most heartily and emphatically didnotagree. He’d had his hand under her skirt in front of a crowd of small children while she sat on the same lap they were about to. Why was she being painted the one in the wrong?
But she needed the job—as a cashier, not necessarily an elf—and she wasn’t helping her case, especially since some people might argue that Santa had suffered enough. She’d definitely given him reason to think twice about assaulting any elves in the future.
“Why don’t we agree that I’ll quit the job as an elf but keep the cashier position? In return, I won’t file a complaint with human resources and the Department of Labor.”
Vanessa was the type to want problems to disappear, not negotiate any terms, and from her perspective, Tate was the problem. Had always been the problem. From grade seven on.
“You made Santa cry.In front ofsmall children. I can’t put you back on cash after that. What would people say?”
Seriously?
“You should be more curious as to what the Department of Labor will say.”
Vanessa finally accepted that the problem wasn’t going to go away, not quietly and certainly not to her satisfaction. She gave in without grace. “Fine. I’ll ask the manager if you can work in the warehouse for a few months until the scandal dies down.”
Tate pushed her luck. “Do I get the raise that goes with the change in position?”
“No.No raise. You’re to be on your best behavior for the next three months.Ifthe manager approves it. And you’ll have to take customer service retraining. This incident will go on your employee record, too.”
Sanctimonious bee-yotch.
“I would love to have this on my employee record,” Tate said, with feeling. “Make sure you spelljingle bellsT-E-S-T-I-C-L-E-S.”
