Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 66453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66453 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 332(@200wpm)___ 266(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)
My stomach turned at the sight. I’d wondered why the hell no one had taken our order. It was because this was a tea house. These insubstantial sandwiches and obnoxious little cookies were the menu.
Two three-tiered trays were set between us along with child-sized plates of real China, eggshell fragile with wreaths painted around the center. Selena cooed with Mrs. Kloss about how sweet they were, and they had a grand time picking out the tiny sandwiches and cakes from the trays. I got up, ostensibly to use the bathroom, and collared one of the elves.
“Do you have anything that doesn’t have a shit ton of sugar in it?” I asked.
She tilted her head and looked dizzily overwhelmed by the question.
“Like a steak?” I asked, impatience edging my voice.
“We have a ham, brie, and apple spread inside a French roll,” she offered brightly.
That sounded revolting. “What about just coffee?”
“Oh, yes! We have salted caramel mochas, a honey vanilla cold brew–”
“Black coffee,” I specified, starting to feel a little desperate. “Do you have just black coffee?”
“I suppose,” she said uncertainly. “Do you want cream and–”
“No. Just black coffee.” I returned to the table feeling like I had a fifty percent chance of getting something that wasn’t on the straight line to diabetes. Mrs. Kloss and Selena were talking about the Christmas ball. Somehow, Selena had gotten her to talk financials instead of fluff. Mrs. Kloss didn’t like it, but she wasn’t running off to the bathroom either.
“I’ve never cut corners on this event before,” she was saying when I sat back down. “It’s too important to me.”
“Don’t think of it as cutting corners. We can have the same level of quality on a smaller budget if we make a few adjustments,” Selena said reassuringly.
“A budget?” Mrs. Kloss said the word like she’d never heard it before. “Dear, I don’t know. This is a Christmas Eve event. How many people in this town are going to spend their Christmas Eve at a budgeted event when they could be anywhere?”
“People in this town aren’t going to realize you’ve spent any less than usual because it is still going to be beautiful and over-the-top. Just not over budget.”
“Who is going to set this budget?” Mrs. Kloss asked.
Selena looked in my direction, but I noticed she didn’t look directly at me. “Mr. White will, and I’ll help you plan it so that it’s still everything you want it to be.”
I already had a number in mind, but I wanted Mrs. Kloss to agree to the concept of the budget before I turned it into a cold, hard reality. Selena was doing well persuading her. I didn’t want to overplay her hand.
It took about a thousand tiny sandwiches and tea cookies before Mrs. Kloss finally said, reluctantly, “Well, if you really think this is necessary, I suppose I’ll give it a try.”
“It’s necessary,” I assured her, finishing off my second cup of coffee.
“Sticking to a budget will make the Christmas ball a sustainable tradition,” Selena said, putting her hand on Mrs. Kloss’s. I purposefully looked out the fake-frosted window. I didn’t need to think about how Selena’s hand would feel on mine. I already knew her skin was as soft as it looked.
“I don’t even know what I’d do on Christmas Eve if I didn’t have this ball to throw,” Mrs. Kloss said quietly.
I didn’t have to look at Selena to know her heart was breaking in her eyes. I’d heard it in her choked-up voice as she said, “If you let me help you, you won’t ever find out.”
There was sniffling, a scuffle that could only be a hug. I continued to stare blandly out at the patches of sunlit sidewalk I could see through the “snow.” Mrs. Kloss must have seen Selena coming a mile away. I had to give the old lady credit; she’d done the near impossible. Not many people got around me once I’d made up my mind. Now she was turning my newest associate into her free event coordinator, and I was picking up the bill for a bunch of overpriced sugar cookies. And on top of it, I was fucking hungry. I pulled apart a small sandwich and ate the meat and gooey cheese out of it, ignoring the bread that was smeared with some sort of pink jam. Who the hell put jam on a ham and cheese sandwich?
It was another hour before we got back to the office, and I was finally rid of Mrs. Kloss. She’d teared up no fewer than three times, and every time she got started, Selena’s big brown eyes filled, too. It was fucking obnoxious. Financial analysts weren’t supposed to be criers.
Alone in my office at long last, I shut the door and took a few deep breaths. I shrugged my shoulders back a couple of times like their emotions were still weighing on them, cramping the muscles. It helped some. It cleared my head enough that I could ask myself what the hell I was doing. It wasn’t like me to make a mistake, but now they were piling up like snowdrifts. I shouldn’t have hired Selena; her excellent resume and interview be damned. I shouldn’t have let her come to lunch. I shouldn’t have agreed to let her help Mrs. Kloss. And I sure as hell shouldn’t have touched her.