A christmas escape, p.1
A Christmas Escape, page 1
A CHRISTMAS ESCAPE
SMALL TOWN CHRISTMAS, BOOK 7
D. ALLEN
CONTENTS
Also by D. Allen
Steph
Steph
Steph
Steph
Carson
Carson
Steph
Carson
Steph
Carson
Carson
Steph
Carson
Carson
Steph
Carson
Steph
Steph
Carson
Snow After Christmas
More by the author
About the Author
ALSO BY D. ALLEN
To find the rest of the books in the Small Town Christmas series as well as more books by the author, visit
DavidNethBooks.com/Books
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Small Town Christmas series
A Christmas Reunion
A Christmas Charade
A Christmas Spark
A Christmas Song
A Christmas Departure
A Christmas Wedding
A Christmas Escape
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Montana Beach series
Summer Stay
Summer Job
Summer Nights
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Snow After Christmas
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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A Christmas Escape
Small Town Christmas, Book 7
Copyright © 2022 by D. Allen
Batavia, NY
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www.DavidNethBooks.com
* * *
All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form, except for reasonable quotations for the purpose of reviews, without the author’s written permission.
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ISBN: 978-1-945336-30-0
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First edition
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DavidNethBooks.com/Newsletter
STEPH
DECEMBER 16TH
“What are you doing for the holidays?” I ask my friend Lisa in the staff room at work.
Around the small room, there are other DesignUP Developers employees, but it’s only me and Lisa at our table. We’re also the only two currently in the staff room from the Planning and Development department.
“Going back home,” Lisa says with a smile. She pulls out a baggie of carrots and a small Tupperware container with peanut butter. “But Jim and I are not staying with my parents.” Lisa grew up in Canandaigua, only about a thirty minute drive from Rochester.
“You don’t want to stay with your husband in your old childhood bedroom?” I tease.
Lisa scoffs. “God no. We’re getting an Airbnb to stay in. It’s a loft apartment in one of the old commercial buildings on Main Street. The pictures look really cute.”
Spreading out my lunch on the plastic red table cloth someone had put on each table, I say, “I’m sure your parents are thrilled about that.” I pull out my PB&J sandwich. I might be thirty-two, but the grade school go-to is still a favorite.
Lisa shakes her head as she chomps down on her carrot. “The house will be insane. My brother and his wife are coming in and staying with them. And my sister is coming with her two kids. So unless Jim and I wanted to sleep on the dank pull-out in the basement, we kind of have no other choice.” She dipped her next carrot in her peanut butter and waved it at me. “Don’t get me wrong. I love the crazy. But I also need my own room to escape to.”
I nod. “Understandable. So you just hang out at your parents’ for Christmas then?”
“Well, on Christmas Day, yeah. But we’re going up a few days before to really soak in the season.”
I scrunch my brow. “What does that mean?”
“You know: shopping up and down Main Street, visiting Sonnenberg Gardens with my niece and nephew just like we used to do when we were younger, catching up with old friends.” She shrugs. “Reconnecting with my small town roots. It’s beautifully simple there. Everything seems to click back into place for me, you know?”
Shaking my head, I say, “I guess I’ve never really had that feeling.”
There’s an awkward silence as the two of us continue with our lunch. I admire the Christmas tree in the corner. The company’s efforts to bring holiday cheer and boost morale as we close out the year and everyone starts to wind down for the season. Can’t say it really fuels me to keep working, but I still enjoy the warmth it brings.
The boisterous conversations coming from the other tables only seems to point out just how quiet Lisa and I have become.
“So are you going back to Maine for the holidays?” Lisa suddenly asks.
“No. It’s my brother’s turn to have my parents for Christmas, so they’re flying to Seattle to see his family.”
“And you’re not joining them?”
Tossing my trash in my lunch bag, I shake my head. “That’s a little over my budget this year.”
“Do you have any friends you’re going to hang out with then?”
“Not really,” I say. “Most of the people I know in Rochester have plans already and I don’t want to intrude.”
“Oh, well I’d invite you along to stay with us, but I think Jim is extra-excited to have a place to ourselves. If I’m being perfectly honest, one of my gifts to him is that I’m finally off the pill.”
My eyes widen at the revelation of something so personal. “Oh.”
“Yeah, we’ve been married five years, getting into our mid-thirties. I think it’s time to finally start that family we’ve been talking about. Knowing my husband, he’ll want to get started right away, which means we need some alone time.”
“Right,” I say with a nod. This conversation took an awkward turn. Quickly, I downplay the sympathy I know is coming. “I’ll be okay. Really. It’ll be nice to have a low-key holiday. I’ll Zoom with my family, watch some movies, play some music. Certainly, I’ll be gorging myself in Christmas cookies regardless of who is or isn’t there.”
Lisa politely laughs along with me. “Well, that’s good that you have a plan.”
“Yeah. I’ll be okay on my own.” I fold up my brown paper lunch bag that contains my trash as tightly as possible. “Honestly, I have enough time to take off now through the end of the year, but I’m holding off. Why indulge in my holiday plans early and then be bored on Christmas?”
“You should take the time if you have it!” Lisa encourages. “Relax and be well-rested before the New Year.”
I turn away and start to get up. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. We’ll see. I have some projects to finish up here before I take any time off.”
“You’ll never take time if you wait for the right time. That’s the same way I feel about starting a family. We need to just do it and make it work.”
As we exit the break room, Lisa continues to talk about the possibility of her having a baby by next Christmas. Meanwhile, I can’t help but notice just how different our lives are.
STEPH
DECEMBER 16TH
Later that day, I find myself in Monica’s office. She’s the manager of our department. The one who sits in on the meetings with the big-whigs and doles out the orders to our department straight from the big guys.
Our company isn’t huge, but it’s large enough to have scaffolded levels of management. It’s mostly because our project portfolio has grown tremendously over the last ten years. We have apartment complexes going up all over the city and the suburbs, as well as projects in neighboring cities and even into some parts of Pennsylvania and Ohio.
So yeah, we’re growing.
Monica looks up over her glasses when she sees me come in. “Stephanie, please, take a seat.” She motions to one of the chairs in front of the desk. She’s all business, donning a still gray suit and her dark hair pulled up out of her face.
I sit and wait for her to finish reading over whatever she’s looking at on her computer. Unlike the rest of the office, Monica’s office is nearly devoid of any sign of the upcoming holiday. The one lone reminder is the assortment of Christmas cards she has taped on the door of the cabinet above her desk.
The thought of her getting personalized cards from people who care about her actually surprises me. Maybe she’s not this stiff at home. Maybe she actually relaxes once in a while.
Finally, Monica turns to me and says, “How are things going?”
I nod, sort of rocking my whole body back and forth, as if to show how enthusiastically I’m trying to be polite. “Everything’s okay. Trying to meet several deadlines before the holidays.”
“Aren’t we all?” Monica offers a quick smile, then goes straight-faced again. For the position she’s in and the number of years she’s been with the company, she has to be in her late fifties. And if that’s the case, she looks good. She’s thin, only the slightest hint of wrinkles, although looks are not her focus. She’s too practical for that.
“I was wondering how you’re doing with the plans for the Kellogg property,” she went on. “I need them sooner than later.”
Relief washes over me. “Oh! They’re all done.”
Monica’
“I still need to upload them,” I say. “I met with the architects and engineers and they had some change orders they wanted to make, so I spent the last week figuring out those. But everything’s all set. I just need to upload the new file.”
“Interesting.”
My politeness falters a bit. “I’m sorry?”
“Well, I talked to Richard this morning and he says he hasn’t seen any updates. He hasn’t had a status update in weeks, according to him.”
Richard.
That jerk is my so-called “partner” with this specific project, but all he’s done is undermine me, belittle me, and get in my way. The truth of the matter is—one that he simply cannot accept—is that I’m a better designer than he is. He thinks Planning and Development is a man’s business. He hasn’t actually come out and said that, but it’s obvious by the way he treats me when we work together.
The trouble is, Monica doesn’t like to hear excuses. She only looks at results. And, as it stands, I currently don’t have any.
“Well, I—uh—I think Richard may be mistaken,” I start. “The plans certainly are done. Like I said, I just need to digitize them.”
“And yet,” Monica says, slowly turning to me from her computer and looking at me over her glasses, “the files have not been uploaded, which is the way we do business around here. You should know that.”
“I do. I just didn’t think there was any point in uploading an incomplete file—”
“So the plans aren’t even done?” Monica cuts in. Her stare is so intense that she intimidates me and I stammer.
“Well—that’s not—if you just give me fifteen minutes, I can upload what I have for you to look at.”
“And it will have both yours and Richard’s signatures on the work?” Monica asks. “I need them both in order to proceed. We don’t cut corners around here. Another thing you should know.”
“Yes, I’m aware,” I say, noticing that I’m suddenly clenching my jaw. “I will find Richard and get his signature before I—”
“Richard took a half day today,” Monica interrupts. “He won’t be back until next week.”
“He did?”
She nods. “Yes. Like I said, I’ve already talked to him about this project. The trouble is, now these files are late. I have to report to the investors next week and I have no progress on this case to show them. You see why I have my doubts that they’re even finished, don’t you?”
“I promise you, they’re done. I just need—”
“You know I don’t like excuses, Stephanie. If you can’t meet our deadlines, then perhaps you need to find employment elsewhere.”
My jaw hangs open and my fists clench. There are several choice words on the tip of my tongue, but I hold them in.
Don’t burn bridges, my Dad always tells me.
Instead, I rise to my feet. “I think this meeting is over.”
Monica has already turned back to her computer. As I leave the room, she mutters, “Yes, you have a lot of work to do to get those files to me by Monday.”
STEPH
DECEMBER 16TH
“She was completely dismissive!” I say into the phone back at my apartment. One-handed, I struggle to throw in a load of laundry into the washer and not spill detergent all over the floor.
“Monica can be like that,” Lisa says on the other end.
“She wouldn’t even listen to me! It’s like she had her mind made up about the whole situation before she even called me into her office!” I slam the door of the washer closed and hit ‘Start.’
Taking a few steps further into the apartment, I collapse on the couch that takes up most of the space. I live in a small one-bedroom. It’s a little on the pricy side, but it has nice finishes and a washer and dryer in the unit, so I feel like I’m getting my money’s worth.
I let out a heavy sigh. “So I don’t know what I’m going to do.”
“Did you ever find the plans?” Lisa bangs around on her end too. From the sound of it, she’s making dinner.
“Oddly, no,” I say. “I was fired up after I left Monica’s office, so I searched all over my cubicle for the updated plans, but nada.”
“Did you check your apartment? Or maybe your car? Maybe you just misplaced them somewhere.”
I shake my head before she’s even done talking, not that she can see it over the phone. “No. I know I put them in my filing cabinet, but they weren’t there.”
“How is that possible?”
“My guess is Richard has them.” I say his name as if it’s the most disgusting thing on the planet because, right now, he is to me.
“You don’t know that for sure.”
“Don’t I? He’s the one who went to Monica about me. He’s the one who conveniently took a half day today, when he knew Monica was going to confront me about this. And he’s not answering my calls! I’ve tried three times already. All I get is his stupid voicemail where he cheerfully says that he’s “taking a few days off.”
“Just because he’s not answering your calls doesn’t mean he stole the plans from you.”
“Then maybe Monica has a point,” she says.
“Are you siding with him? Lisa, he knew I didn’t have a personal phone number for him and now he’s avoiding me because he knows I’m upset.”
“You just need to relax.”
“Don’t tell me to relax! I have a right to be angry about this! Richard is trying to take my job!”
“Again, you don’t know—”
“What’s this sudden fascination with Richard you have? Why do you keep taking his side?”
“I’m not siding with anyone, Steph.” She sounds exasperated. “I’m just trying to see things from his side. Look, all I know is that Monica said the plans aren’t in the shared folder online where they should be. You claim everything’s done and just needs to be signed and uploaded, but you can’t find the plans anywhere.”
“That’s what I claim because it’s the truth! What do you think I’ve been working on for the last week?” I ask angrily.
“Of course not,” she says. “I’m just saying, maybe you’re not as far as you think you are on this project. Maybe you didn’t put it in the shared folder because you didn’t want Monica or anyone else to see how much you still need to do to it.”
“I’ve written progress reports to go along with the plans. They wouldn’t seen what I’ve been doing. I just don’t see the point in scanning and uploading something until it’s done, but that’s all I have to do.”
Lisa sighs. “Okay, so maybe you just need to be more organized.”
“I am organized!”
“If that were true, Monica never would’ve called you into her office today.”
There’s a pause as I process just what Lisa is insinuating. How could she betray me like this? “You know, I called you because I thought you’d understand.”
“I do, I’m just trying to look at this from all angles instead of jumping right to anger.”
“Monica suggested I get another job. How am I not supposed to get angry at that?”
“You’re right. But maybe the answer is to take some time off after you find those plans. Relax. Take your mind off work for a bit.”
