Page 1 of The Christmas Cottage
CHAPTER ONE
The only sound in the otherwise silent office was the chiming of Vanessa Stewart’s email notifications, as she sorted through yet another pile of invoices. The rest of her coworkers had since gone home, but she’d stayed glued to her desk, intent on clearing out the folder that her boss, Russell, had left for her that morning.
She couldn’t exactly say that working for the head of an office supply chain was her dream job, but it was a good job, and she was good at it. It was satisfying to work through the sheaves of paperwork every day, to make sure her emails were always at zero before she left her desk, to ensure that every meeting was scheduled, and every scheduling issue was ironed out immediately. She felt capable, organized, and in control.
At least, when she was alone in the office, she felt that way. Which was why she ended up staying late more often than not.
That afternoon, for example, most of the office had cut out early for family obligations leading up to the Thanksgiving holiday, including Russell. However, even though he was supposed to be at a family dinner seeing extended relatives that had all flown into San Francisco for the long weekend, he’d already called her three times. Each time, it had been to checkon something she already had well under control—the invoices that needed to be reconciled and on his desk before she left, his meeting schedules for the remainder of the week that needed to be rearranged, and her needing to make sure that HR knew that new hire paperwork should be finished before all of the employees were out for the holiday. It was always“I’ve just remembered”, or“you know how important this is”, or“I just needed to remind you that…”
All those things were on her schedule already, carefully assigned to color-coded time-blocks for her day, but he insisted on micro-managing her anyway, despite the fact that in all the time that she’d worked for him, she’d never once missed an appointment or been late on a deadline. She excelled at attaining perfection in her job, but that didn’t seem to matter to him.
So these hours, when the office was silent and Russell’s attention was taken up by other things, were her favorite. She could finally relax and savor the feeling of being completely on top of the tasks she was meant to do. She could shake off the lingering feeling that somehow, despite how hard she always worked and how completely she devoted herself to what was, for all intents and purposes, a fairly uninspiring job, her boss still seemed to feel that she was less than capable.
Except… tonight, she felt off. It might just have been that with Russell’s family obligations, she had really thought he might leave her alone for a little while. That she might get more peace than usual—her version of a holiday. Although she loved her job, and put everything into it, she had to admit that his demands were exhausting. Nothing was ever good enough, no matter how hard she tried or how much she invested in her work. And his insistence on showing up just in time to take credit for the things she’d carefully organized or prepared, or seemingly purposefully creating issues with her work in order to feel that he had a hand in what she could take care of wellenough on her own was, to be honest, demoralizing. At this point, she didn’t really know what else she could do to prove that she could manage these things on her own, without him looking over her shoulder.
It doesn’t matter,she reminded herself as she quickly tapped out an email, her newly painted, autumn-rust colored nails clicking against the keys.He’s out for the day. And what I have left to do will keep me busy enough to stay distracted.
By the time she was done and went home, she’d have just enough time to grab something to eat, shower and do her tasks around the apartment, and then go to sleep. No time to think too deeply about what might be bothering her or get in her own head about it, which was just the way she preferred things.
Busy, and organized. It was why, despite the fact that her job wasn’t particularly interesting or thrilling, it suited her just fine. It was always full of busy work, and that was what she needed.
It wasn’t just her boss that she needed to be distracted from. Vanessa glanced out of her office window, taking in the foggy view of the San Francisco evening, her thoughts briefly flickering back to her last few weeks of college. Her chest tightened, remembering the call she’d gotten while out celebrating with her friends after she’d finished the first of several final exams, how she’d gone from elated to devastated in a matter of seconds.
It had just taken one drunken driver to take her parents away from her. They hadn’t seen her graduate. Everything that had happened right after that still, even years later, felt like a blur. And her job was a welcome distraction from the memories that still threatened to crowd in. She’d thrown herself into it the moment she’d been hired, determined not to let herself be incapacitated by the tragedy that had come out of nowhere. Determined to feel useful. To feel capable.
Russell was still making that difficult.
A tapping on her half-open office door was her distraction in that moment, and she was glad for it. She swiveled around in her chair, seeing Katelyn, one of the office secretaries standing there with an amused expression on her face.
“Still burning the midnight oil, hm?” she asked, chuckling. “Do you want me to bring you a snack before I head out?”
Vanessa laughed. “No, but thank you.” She slipped the last of the invoices into their folder and picked up both it and her briefcase, intending to drop the file off on Russell’s desk on her way out. She had planned to stay later, but clearly her mind was wandering, and she didn’t have anything left that needed to be done right then. “I’m going to head home anyway. I think I’ve done all I can for today.”
“We should all be as productive as you.” Katelyn grinned, waving to Vanessa as she slung her purse over one shoulder and headed for the elevator.
A few minutes later, Vanessa emerged out into the cool, foggy night, tugging her jacket a little closer in the front as she started the walk home. Her apartment was six blocks from her work, in a pretty historic building overlooking the harbor, and she’d chosen it specifically because it was the perfect commute.
She could walk to and from work, which was good for her health—she didn’t have to get into a car, which she preferred now—and the journey didn’t take her all that long. She also passed a small bakery on her way home, which was a nice treat from time to time. She decided to stop in that evening, picking up a loaf of sourdough bread and some pre-packaged olives and fruit to have for dinner. She’d bought a bottle of red wine from her favorite winery last week, and it seemed like a good night to open it up.
She’d only just managed to change into a soft pair of cashmere lounge pants and a favorite tank top, when her phone buzzed as she was digging through the kitchen drawer in searchof a bottle opener. She had every intention of ignoring it, until she glanced up at the screen and saw it was Russell. There was no ignoring that, no matter the hour or what she was up to.
With a small sigh, she picked up the phone, tucking it between her chin and shoulder as she got down a wine glass.
“How’s the family?”
“Fine. Did you get those invoices in before you left? I need them all processed before I get back. And I’m concerned about the new secretary being ready to hit the ground running. I need you to make sure no production deadlines fall behind just because she’s a new hire. Check over all the work. In fact, I’m going to need you to make sure you’re at the office through Christmas. Those deadlines can’t be missed, and?—”
“I’ve got it all under control,” Vanessa said calmly, pouring herself a glass of the red wine. “The invoices are on your desk. I’ll check in with HR in the morning. It’ll be fine, Russell. I’ve got it.”
“I’m just saying, everyone wants to take time off this time of year, and I need you in the office. Holidays or no, I’m counting on you to make sure that nothing gets missed. And that means working Christmas, if need be.”
“That’s fine.” Vanessa dug out a bread knife and unwrapped the sourdough. “I put work first, you know that. Why should the holidays change that? I’ll make sure it’s taken care of.”
“Good. I knew I could count on you.” There was the sound of someone calling out in the background, and Vanessa heard Russell let out a heavy sigh. “Gotta go. I’ll check in tomorrow.”
“Of course.” She had no doubt that he would. Just as she wasn’t the least bit surprised that he was insisting she work through Christmas. But she really didn’t mind. What else was she going to do? Sit in her apartment alone?
Holidays were for families. And she didn’t have any family to spend them with.
