Page 22 of The Holidays with Mr. Mitchell
How many fucking balls and benefits could a damn company host in the span of a few holidays and weeks? Hell, I was still full from the turkey and stuffing I ate at Addy’s Thanksgiving benefit. Now, I would be staring down endless amounts of ham, prime rib, and pies, and if Avery had her way, Cat Veléz would have sugar plum fairies dancing around the room while we stuffed our faces.
I kissed my firecracker of a wife on the top of her head, then gently slid out of bed. If everyone suddenly needed the holidays to be celebrated on a grand scale instead of just enjoying Christmas in their own way, then I needed a plan not only to rein this shit in, but also to derail my wife and keep Cat from turning Los Angeles into some small Swiss village at Christmas.
I walked down the steps and headed toward my liquor cabinet. Bourbon would help turn off my brain a lot quicker than digging into numbers to save my wife from calling that over-the-top event planner for a damn holiday celebration.
Bourbon would help me sell that story to myself. I poured two fingers of the amber liquid into a crystal glass, eyed it, and downed it. Who the hell would’ve thought holiday planning would drive me to drink harder than mergers and acquisitions?
On my way to my office, I noticed the glow of the kitchen light. Ten o’clock. Only one of my kids would be up and prowling for sweets.
Sure enough, I found Izzy standing at the counter, spoon in hand, digging into the ice cream carton. “Stealing my ice cream?”
“Dad!” Izzy jumped back, nearly dropping the container. “You scared me.”
“You, never cease to amaze me, you little sneaker.”
She grinned, “Want some?”
“Absolutely,” I said, grabbing a bowl. “How about we share since it’s late and now we’re both about to get banished to the guest room.”
She giggled, “Mom busted you, huh?”
“Grab me a spoon,” I said, arching an eyebrow at her as I scooped the ice cream, “and meet me in my office.”
She trailed after me, plopped into a chair, and swung her legs as if she hadn’t just been caught red-handed.
“So,” I said, flipping on the computer and taking a bite of the fudge brownie ice cream, “what do you want for Christmas this year? Seems everyone is already talking about it.”
She took a bite and smiled at me. “Perhaps a charity ball for the children,” she said in her most posh accent before laughing and taking another bite.
I rolled my eyes and brought my attention to my logins on the computer. “Lord,” I said. “Anything else your mom told you to say if I dare bring up the holiday?”
“Just that you are Ebenezer Scrooge this year,” she shrugged with a sassy grin.
“Is that so?” I dipped my spoon back into the ice cream, “Well, if that’s the case, then perhaps you’re not my adorable daughter, but the Ghost of Christmas Future?”
“No, Dad,” she rolled her eyes. “That ghost kills you when you don’t learn your lessons about Christmas.”
“Killsme?” I chuckled. “Dang, Christmas just took a dark turn.”
“It’s true.”
“It’snottrue. You misunderstood the show,” I said.
“Then why is that ghost the scariest, and why does it always end with Scrooge in the grave?”
“Okay,” I said, exhaling, “this isn’t quite the direction I saw this conversation going, but allow me to help you understand because I believe you never saw the ending.”
“I did. He figured out not to be a stingy miser to his employees at Christmas, and the ghost let him live.”
“To hisemployees? Oh, brother. Okay,” I shook my head, “perhaps, we should throw a beautiful Christmas celebration to remove these images from your mind.”
“That will just save you from the ghost,” she smiled.
“Allow me toassureyou, my morbid daughter, who’s apparently watched one too many Halloween horrors with her Uncle Jake this year at Halloween.”
“Go on,” she said, taking another bite.
“Scrooge just needed to be scared a little, that’s all. He was a selfish and greedy man. He had to learn that his money wasn’t all there was to life, and he wouldeventuallydie a lonely, miserable man if he didn’t see the true meaning of giving during the holidays…and not only to hisemployees.”
