Page 2 of Bad Boy Bachelor Christmas
“I want to let everyone have fun. This is the last company event before the Christmas season kicks off. You know how crazy it can get.”
Marge drummed her fingernails on the side of her ceramic mug. They were painted a sparkly light blue. In a week or two, I suspected they’d be replaced with something festive, and she’d bust out her Christmas broaches, earrings, sweater vests, and handbags. Yes, Marge even had Christmas handbags.
“They all like you, you know. You don’t have to hide.”
“I’m not hiding,” I said.
She arched a silver eyebrow. “Cami said you were brooding earlier.”
“Cami says a lot of things. She should learn how to mind her own business. I’m paying for her drinks this evening after all, and she doesn’t even work for me.”
Marge chuckled. Her laugh was nostalgic for me. As a boy, I’d often sought the sound out whenever she came into the big house on the property. Little did I know it had been to spend time with my grandfather. But even after he passed away, she’d popped over frequently, checking in to make sure my father had home-cooked meals at least three nights a week and good reliable company. She was like a mother to him and a grandmother to me.
Irreplaceable at home and at work.
Marge put her hand on mine. Her skin was warm and wrinkled, and a gold ring with a ruby glinted on her middle finger. She’d worn it for as long as I could remember. “Just because I’m retiring doesn’t mean you’re not going to see me anymore.”
“Obviously. You’d miss me too much.”
She patted my hand and leaned back, amusement curling her lips. “Precisely. I’ll still be around, even if you need me for work-related things. I won’t leave you hanging. Speaking of which.” She paused to sip her coffee and set it back down. “What’s the plan for my replacement? The Christmas season is a week away. Have you hired someone and just not found the time to tell me?”
Hiring a replacement for Marge had felt like one task too many on my plate. “I’m going to design the trees myself this year.”
She blinked. “North.”
“What?”
“How in the heavens will you manage that?”
“Have faith, Marge. I’m a Jack of all trades.”
“You’re busy enough as it is. You need help. If you hadn’t procrastinated for the last two months,” she added under her breath, “I could have helped you train the new designer.”
I waved off her concern. “I’ll figure it out. I always do.”
She sighed, clicked her tongue, and shook her head. “No, you won’t. You’ll drown in your work, shut yourself in your house, and let Christmas pass you by without taking a single moment for yourself. Let me help you. I’ll find someone to replace me—as a thank you. And a gift.” She held up a warning finger when I opened my mouth to retort. “I won’t hear it, North. I’ve made up my mind. Let an old woman do you a favor. You’ve done me hundreds since you took over for your father.”
When Marge set her mind to something, there was no arguing with her. We were cut from the same cloth in that regard, and she might have been the only person who could go toe to toe with me and emerge from the debate victorious.
This felt like a fight I would not win, so I conceded with a nod. “Thank you.”
“That’s the spirit,” she gushed before sitting bolt upright in her seat with a gasp and pointing past me.
I looked over my shoulder. “What?”
“It’s snowing!”
With speed that did not match her petite portly frame, Marge burst from her seat and went to the restaurant window, practically pressing her nose to the glass like a starry-eyed child seeing her first snowfall. I moved up beside her, glass of wine in hand, and regarded the flurries as the sky let them loose on the city street outside.
“It’s a blessing,” Marge whispered. “Can you feel it?”
“Feel what?”
“The Christmas spirit.”
No.“Sure, Marge.”
She gave a little shudder of her shoulders, as if she were standing out on the street in the snow and caught a chill. “I think when I go home, I might have to break out my sweater vests. It’s that time.”
