Maybe I went a step too far. I open my mouth to apologize, but before I can get any words out, the sprinkler system goes off in the office.
“Shit, shit, shit!” He grabs all of his renderings, rolls them tightly, and throws them in a canister, unplugging his computer and throwing it in a drawer. We run out to see how the rest of the office is doing, and it’s kind of weird. The sprinklers above all of the workers’ desks are going off, but not in the hallways or the kitchen. Only in the workable spaces.
We evacuate the office, cold and miserable, running to the Snowcap Inn to warm up as we wait for the fire department. Weirdly, the water stopped as soon as we stepped out of thedoor. The owner, Sebastian Ford, grabs blankets for each of us while Loretta grabs a tray of hot tea.
It takes about 30 minutes for the firefighters to check every wall spot for signs of heat. They determine it was likely a false alarm but recommend scheduling an electrician. Holden’s assistant calls a restoration company, who will send a representative to meet with he and the VP shortly.
A little subdued, we all head back inside to grab our things. Carter Jameson, our VP, tells everyone to stay home tomorrow and that an email will come out at 9:00 a.m. with a game plan. He shores up the text chain so that additional information can be disseminated quickly, and we head home.
Three hours later, I’m in leggings and a sports bra, my red hair piled high as I finish up my project for the day. Luckily, I can access much of my work from home. I feel so badly for Holden. This has not been his week.
Maynard, my sable Burmese, sits on the ledge by the door, his long tail swishing. My cat only does this when someone’s walking up. As the doorbell rings, he stands ready to swipe at whoever walks in.
I check the peephole and see Holden on the stoop, snow falling lightly behind him. He usually texts or calls.
I open the door, my girl bits clenching. “Hi.”
“Can I come in?” His brown eyes search mine, his hair hidden underneath a beanie.
What is it about him that makes me lose words? “OK.” That’s the best I could do.
True to his nature, Maynard hisses and swipes at Holden’s shoulder as he passes by. They have a staring contest, and I’m not sure who won, but Maynard doesn’t swipe at Holden again, so I consider that a win.
“Want some hot tea?”
At his nod of yes, I put on a kettle and motion my boss to the couch. We settle in, and his gaze pops from my my chest to my eyes, a pink tinge on his cheeks. I’m at home, on my turf. I’m not changing clothes just because my boobs are are on full display. Serves him right. And maybe I’m tired of playing it safe where he’s concerned.
I turn to face my boss, sitting cross-legged. “What’s going on?”
“I think that Santa cursed me.”
I search his face for any sign that he’s joking or kidding, but the way his eyes squint in fear shows he’s not.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
He recaps Santa’s curse, then shares how his electricity went out and how his truck died after seeing the Santa guy. “And you saw what happened with the sprinklers.”
Holden is really spooked.
“These are all just coincidences, Holden.”
“No. No.” He runs a hand through his hair, his knee bouncing wildly. “I was being a complete jackass each time. I didn’t want to go to my niece’s recital, so I hid from my sister like I’ve been doing for a week to avoid giving her an answer. And it’s like the universe knew it. Then, as soon as I agreed to go, the lights came back on.
“There was no reason for my backup generator not to be working, just like there was no reason for the sprinklers to go off today.” Now he’s pacing around my living room, his gray joggers leaving little to the imagination. Thank you, Universe. “The fire department didn’t find any heat spots. There was nothing that set off that alarm. It was an accident, except it should have never happened. It’s a state-of-the-art system, just like the system at my house.”
He does have a point. And then he looks at me.
“And then the Santa on the commercial looked right at me.”
I start laughing. “Holden, do you hear yourself? The Santa on the commercial looked right at you?”
“Yes, he did. It was the same Santa that I met outside. I’m telling you, the curse is real.”
“Okay, let’s suppose the curse is real. You have to do three good deeds by Christmas, right?”
“Yes.”
“Does your going to your niece’s recital count? That’s a good deed.”
