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Fairytale Christmas

By Stephanie Guerrero

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Chapter One

Marionette Goldberg placed her hands on her hips and fought back against the heavy burden of leadership. She could not carry on like this forever. Frustration loomed like a dark cloud waiting to take hold at the first hint of despair. Glancing across the office pool, to the other side of the massive room of cubicles, her eyes fell on an attractive thirty something man with his head in his hands.
A problem means a solution. She’d prayed. She knew what needed to be done, but the ability to convince others eluded her. Mitch Ajax Torres possessed all the qualities she sought, the problem… the board saw his PTSD from time embedded with the troops as an eliminator. So far, nothing persuaded them. The situation called for creativity.
Tapping a slender finger against her chin, she pondered the problem. Since her father’s death, control of his media conglomerate fell to her as well as left a giant whole in the Editor-in-Chief role. Keeping his finger on the pulse of the world as Editor-in-Chief of the global paper typified her father’s passion, but doing everything exhausted her.
Just because I can do something, doesn’t mean I should. Wisdom dictated she find a great editor.
Inspiration struck. With December approaching, instigating a mandatory Secret Santa drawing for the news staff promised to build moral and force Torres to interact with his co-workers.
She went into action immediately. Before the noon hour, each staff member received a memo with a personal information form to be filled out and returned by the end of the day. By lunchtime, a merry, holiday buzz filled the office. Jokes and teasing rose from the cubicles as individuals filled out their forms. One by one, each form found its way to the desk of the administrative assistant. All but one found her desk by the end of the day… Torres. His move called for a serious countermove. She smiled at the challenge.

~

The boss’ administrative assistant knocked on his open door. Mitch forced his shoulders back and prepared to dig in his heels. Participating in a jolly Christmas game…? Not happening. Compared to all the visions bouncing around in his head, a Secret Santa game felt trivial. Besides, he couldn’t deal with people right now. Surviving daily required all his energy. He growled at the prim young woman he remembered from his college days.
“What is it? Did the boss send you to reprimand me for not jumping into the game?” he groused.
Isabella Farias pushed black-framed glasses up on her delicate nose and frowned at him. That act alone hit home. Though their paths rarely crossed, Isabella always sported a brilliant smile. In fact, he rubbed his scruffy chin; he never saw her with a frown. Knowing he put the frown there stung. He straightened and tried again.
“Sorry, Isabella. I’m a bear lately. Any chance the boss lets me off this particular assignment? I’m more grinch than Santa this year,” he admitted through gritted teeth.
Her soft, understanding smile returned at his honesty.
“The boss understands your position, Mitch and knows it’s been a difficult year. The whole office needs a boost in morale since the owner’s untimely death last year. The memo isn’t optional. In fact, I’ve been asked to add a second name for you to gift. One of your co-workers left town due to a family member’s heart surgery which leaves things uneven.”
She thrust two forms his direction. He stared. “Are you serious? I’m not in any position to take care of buying a stranger a gift, let alone two!” he stood and raised his voice. “Tell the boss ‘no way’!”
“That’s just the point, Mitch. You’ve isolated yourself. We are family here at the paper, yet you just called your co-workers strangers. The boss insisted. This is not optional, and you will take on these two ladies.” She placed the papers on his desk and turned to go.
“Ladies! Are you kidding me? At least I might have a clue with a guy! I don’t even know where to start!”
She pointed to his desk. “Everything you need to know is right there, Mitch. One gift a week until Christmas. I’ll let the boss know you are on it.” She paused in the doorway.
“I’ll keep your reluctance to myself… for now. Just do right by these two names.”

~

Two days later, Mitch ripped the paper off a package left by his office Secret Santa and winced.
Great… just what I always wanted… a unicorn mug, complete with horn and a rainbow tale for a handle.
Hot pink block letters wrapped around the white body of the mug with one word… FIERCE! A grunt escaped his normally stoic lips. At least his co-worker got that part right. For allowing himself to be conned into this stupid tradition, he could kick himself, but the memo from the boss stated that the veteran war correspondent needed to connect with the rest of the writing staff. He shook his head and crumbled the multicolored, glittered tissue paper, lobbing the ball into his sleek stainless steal trash can.
He picked up the unicorn mug prepared to trash it, but entertained second thoughts. Did he dare regift it? He glanced around the office pool and decided against it. No telling who gifted the mug to him. Anyone could be responsible. One of the guys could have pranked him, or one of the ladies might have attempted to make him smile. He turned the mug over in his hands and felt the corners of his lips crack at the attempt to curve. The gift almost worked. He made the sudden decision to flaunt the mug around the office.
Stepping out of his glassed-in office and holding his pet mug by the tail, he made his way passed the cubicles to the break room for coffee. Smiles and smirks broke as he passed. He raised the mug in a grand salute and stepped in to pour a cup of coffee. He pondered his current Secret Santa assignment. What should he get the women his list?
A copy of each of their likes rested on his desk, a form the boss forced him to fill out as well. His form, hastily inscribed, lacked the item currently resting in his hand. Unicorns never made the cut, still… a guy could do worse than having a girl’s list of favorite things handed to him on silver platter. The two names he received couldn’t be more different from each other or from him.
Caitlyn Roberts stepped into the breakroom, took one look at his mug and raised an eyebrow. The fiery, redheaded beauty never missed an opportunity to use her quick wit at his expense. Why she picked on him, she couldn’t say. As near as he could figure, she fought hard to keep her position and kept all the guys at arm’s length. With one exception… she teased him mercilessly. And of course, her name appeared on his desk.
“Lose a bet?” the local crime reporter smirked and raised her ‘I don’t do Mondays… or Tuesdays… etc.’ mug in salute. He grinned. The mug fit her sarcasm.
“Nah, Roberts, haven’t you heard? Boss says I need to be more approachable. Is it working?” Pulling a couple of tickets from his jacket pocket, he waved them in her face. “Want to go out, Friday night? I have tickets to the hockey game of the season,” he poked fun. “Oh… that’s right. You don’t date co-workers.”
The redhead snatched the tickets from his hand and studied them in awe. “How’d you get these, Torres? The game’s been sold out for months!”
Jax grinned and took a slow sip out of his unicorn before answering. “I have connections. Jealous?”
Caitlyn narrowed her brown eyes. “How about we work a deal? Is there someone you need investigated?”
Downing the rest of his coffee, Jax stepped to the sink and took his time rinsing out his new mug. He could feel Caitlyn salivating over his tickets. Truth be told, he hated going to a game alone, but since his last stint in Afghanistan, most of the guys he knew were married or were no longer in touch. He ran his eyes over the fiery redhead.
Her ever present pony-tail and worn ballcap advertising for the Yankees rubbed him wrong. A more diehard Mets fan than he would be hard to find. Jeans, Converse sneakers with a plaid shirt over a tee proclaiming her a ‘daddy’s girl’ completed her athletic, no-nonsense appearance. Except for the hair and trim figure, she could be one of the guys.
“Aw… come on, Torres. Do a girl a favor. I’d owe you big time. My older brothers have done nothing but gripe about their lack of tickets for weeks.”
Having the stubborn crime beat reporter owe him definitely influenced his decision, but he snatched his tickets back and waved them in her face just to be stubborn.
“Surely, a guy like you needs help with the whole Secret Santa gig,” she pressed. “I hear your stubborn streak landed you with two names in the Secret Santa gig.”
“Wait, how do you know I have more than one name in the Secret Santa game?” his voice filled with suspicion.
She refilled her mug and tapped her temple. “Trade secret. Investigative reporter… remember.”
“More like snoop…” he muttered.
“so… do we have a deal? I’ll buy the hot dogs…” she pressed.
“I’ll think on it.”
“Fair enough… you know where my desk is,” she saluted and slipped passed him.

~

How should she sign her cards? ‘Good fairy’… too whimsical? ‘Secret Santa’… too classic? ‘Wouldn’t you like to know who’… too fiery? The truth? He needed to laugh, know someone cared, and to tap into a sentimental side he rarely showed. She knew his romantic side existed. Starting with making him laugh turned out to be a great choice. His response surprised her in the best way. He accepted the unicorn mug with charm.
Her goal for the month: draw him out of hiding. Since coming back from his last assignment, Mitch avoided gatherings. She missed his former optimism around the office. Fairy tale reminders permeated the thought behind every gift. He required a reminder that dreams can come true.
A deep croak emitted from the aerated container setting beside her on the passenger seat of her Jeep. A chuckle escaped her lips. Lately, Mitch exhibited traits of a frog rather than a prince. Pulling into the staff parking lot, she slipped into the building and jogged the four floors to enter the writers’ pool unseen. With a clandestine glance around the quiet room, she dodged and dashed through the cubicles before reaching the war correspondent’s office. She hurriedly left her package and dashed back to her desk passing Mitch just as he exited the breakroom. As usual, the man didn’t even acknowledge her existence unless forced to for business. She shrugged. All the better for playing his Secret Santa.
Caitlyn Roberts paused by her desk. The fiery redhead intimidated some, but in reality… the woman would die for her closest friends.
“Hey, Izzie…” Bella winced at the pet name. “Want to go to lunch? Italian or Greek food? There’s this little joint a couple blocks away. The souvlaki is amazing!”
Hoping to get some form of reaction out of her gift recipient, Bella gave a distracted nod. “Yeah… sure, Caitlyn.” Forcing herself to pay attention, she turned her eyes to meet Caitlyn’s raised eyebrow.
“How about I meet you there at 11:30? I have a few things left to do to meet my deadline.”
The beat reporter crossed her arms. “Uh huh… who is he, Izzie?”
She shook her head in denial. “Lay off. It’s not like that, Caitlyn. Look, I’ll meet you at 11:30, okay?”
Caitlyn threw up her hands. “Okay! Just let me know if you need me to pound anyone for you. I’ve got your back. Remember what I did to the last guy who broke your heart?”
Bella sighed. “Yeah… exposed his gambling tendencies, his faint connections to the mob, got him fired and five years in the state pen. Really, Caitlyn, he broke my heart when I found out about his favors for the mob, but I’m the one who broke up with him, remember?”
Shrugging, Caitlyn backed away with a grin. “He broke your heart, Izzie. That’s crime enough in my book. The fact that he committed crimes, made putting him away easy and his own fault. Besides… it’s what I do! See you at 11:30.” With a salute, she strolled away just as a roar rumbled from Jax’s office.
Ducking her head back into her computer, she grinned. Lately, Mitch buried his emotions. If she got him to smile, yell, or any form of emotion, she succeeded in part. “Aww… wee lamb…” she chuckled as the grumblings got louder.

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