Christmas at Tiffany's (2 page)

“Any time. Stay safe—I'll get you dates for a visit once I figure out the kids' schedules and make sure Jack is OK with me vacating.”

Melody teased about ‘vacating' her family, but she and her husband Jack had an awesome marriage—the kind of marriage that gave Tiffany just enough hope to believe in happy endings.

“You could always bring the boys. I'll bet they'd love seeing the city at Christmas.” Tiffany loved doting on her nephews.

“Ordinarily I would, but to be brutally honest the idea of spending time together—just the two of us—sounds like heaven right now. Besides, it would be a lot easier on this mama if the boys weren't underfoot trying to steal peeks at every gift I buy.”

Tiffany laughed, affection fueling her spirit. “Makes perfect sense. I love you.”

“Love you, too, and we'll talk soon.”

Her sister signed off just as a sustained blast of moist, icy air curved around towering skyscrapers. Folks jostled past, propelled along the sidewalks by the rapidly deteriorating weather.

In passing, Tiffany glanced at the Atlas clock. It was just after two PM. Three more hours at the office and she'd be home free, no matter what kind of antics Eric-the-jerk-Parker had executed while she was gone.

~*~

Mitch Alexander braced for trouble the instant Eric Parker stormed across the threshold of his office and performed a none-too-discreet close of the door.

“We need to talk.”

That much was obvious. Mitch angled his chair away from the dual monitors that rested on his desk and focused on the team leader of his information technology department. Presently this IT wunderkind, whom InfoTraxion had nabbed from its closest competitor a half-year ago, was ruddy cheeked and his eyes sparked hot.

“What's going on, Eric?”

“I'm having issues with Tiffany Zelling that need to be addressed.” Eric dropped onto the chair across from Mitch's desk and clenched his jaw then visibly forced himself to relax. “The woman is a non-starter, and I'm increasingly put off by her attitude.”

Mitch fought for calm and won. “In what way?”

“She's not committed to our culture.”

The flat-out rebuke, full of corporate-speak rather than solid evidence, left Mitch relying on an acquired ability to keep cool under pressure. Mitch had been transferred to New York from Los Angeles HQ over ten long months ago, asked by the owner of the company to take the helm of east coast operations. At the time, he had been told the position was temporary. They needed a regional director who not only understood systems management, but also understood business operations—someone who could keep production levels and employee morale at suitable levels until such time as a replacement could be found.

The fact that business had doubled during Mitch's brief tenure left the leadership squad in Los Angeles content and in no great rush to find another candidate. Increasingly eager to return to the west coast, Mitch faced this episode head on, ready to add it to his repertoire of the ways in which his time in New York City had benefited the company.

“Tiffany is brilliant at what she does. I've heard nothing but praise for her work.”

“When her head is in the game, yes, but she's not committed to what we do. Never has been.”

Mitch performed an internal translation: Tiffany had a number of important aspects to her life, not just her nine-to-five job. “I have to argue the point. Her work is above reproach.”

“Perhaps, but she isn't passionate about our mission and objectives. She's not interested in IT, she's interested in cats and dogs and gerbils, and rabbits, and—”

Enough was more than enough. That level of condescension crossed the professional line. “Be careful of your attitude, Eric. Be respectful. I've found her to be passionate about many things, yes, but she's equally committed to her work as an information system analyst. Having an outside focus, such as her effort to attain a Master's degree and her volunteer efforts at an animal rescue center, doesn't make her less valuable to our firm. In fact, well-rounded employees should be our foundation.”

Mitch could almost feel the grind of Eric's teeth but continued to push his point home. “She coordinated and executed the development of Streamline Corporation's internal database and network management system. That exercise encompassed a block of over eight hundred employees scattered across three states. To the client's delight, she ran a tight show and did so under budget.”

“I was out of line, and for that I apologize.”

The comment reeked of false sincerity, but Mitch chose to let it pass. Why exasperate the issue?

Eric leaned forward. “My point is this: I need to see those solid work results continue. Yesterday I asked her to outline a similar playbook for my pitch to Webber Strategic which takes place early tomorrow afternoon. When I passed by her desk a short while ago, intending to check on status, she was away from her station, and she wasn't even working on options for system design. Instead, she had that animal rescue website on display. Again.”

Mitch fought back a sigh, thinking.
For the love of everything precious, Tiffany, learn to lock your monitors before you leave your desk.
Before Mitch could begin an explanation, Eric barreled ahead. “Everyone knows she's working on her Masters in Counseling. She's all about animal therapy and bettering herself beyond IT system designs and analysis. Good for her. However, this lapse in professional drive clearly illustrates the point that she's not invested when it comes to my development team.”

Mitch seethed within an onslaught of heat. “Eric, I can easily explain what happened. She wasn't on the rescue site for personal reasons. At my request, she was researching the methods by which InfoTraxion might support the shelter where she volunteers. In honor of Christmas, I intend to seek corporate approval for a charitable contribution to the organization.” That piece of news didn't stem the fire in Eric's eyes, not that Mitch expected it to.

“I laude her compassion and empathy, but this presentation is important, and could land a two million dollar project for the firm.”

“I'm aware of the proposal. Congratulations on securing the opportunity.” Eric's lips curled and he leaned back in his chair, happily preening. The team leader's self-righteous behavior prompted Mitch's protective instincts. “I'm also aware of the fact that she's not being forced to recreate the wheel. She won't need to execute hours of research and data alignment in order to deliver a top-rate explanation of the infrastructure and processes necessary to build the network Webber Strategic requires. You said so yourself: she can utilize the foundation of a previous playbook. Meanwhile, I have every confidence she'll flesh out the finer details of the client's requirement and deliver an excellent product. I don't see an issue here.” With that, Mitch moved in for a kill-shot. “By the way, was she given adequate prep time?”

Eric leaned back slightly—a retreat of sorts—and his eyes lost a bit of that haughty indignation. “She was given enough notice, yes.”

Sure she was. It was Mitch's turn to battle against a knowing sneer. “Then my advice would be to leave the project to her. If she fails to follow through, let me know. I'll handle it.”

The meeting ended but Mitch knew Eric was far from satisfied. Too bad. Mitch knew Tiffany's history with the company. She had been part of the systems development team for almost three years, proving herself as pro at follow through and an exceptional end product. He had tamped Eric's fiery crusade for the time being, but sensed the deeper reach of the man's personal tensions toward Tiffany. Mitch wouldn't tolerate them for long. Tiffany was quiet to the point of studious—introverted and pleasingly shy. He severely doubted she had earned the show of hostility based on professional capabilities.

His mind's-eye drew the portrait of a woman with large, dark eyes and a short, straight cap of black hair worn in those soft, tempting type of layers that caught the air when she moved, dancing and shifting like ripples around a fair, heart-shaped face.

Pursing his lips, tilting his chair backward so he could look outside, he contemplated the view of a winter storm on the brew. He ignored the onslaught in favor of his own personal countdown. In one short month—January 1
st
to be precise—he'd be back in Los Angeles, and he could leave the snow-cast gloom of the east coast behind in favor of sun, warmth, beaches and incomparable mountain vistas.

He had done his time and earned his spurs on behalf of InfoTraxion. With all due respect to NYC, he couldn't wait to get back home to California. Meanwhile, the Christmas season was kicking into full swing, and he wanted to encourage philanthropy. Business focused and intent, Mitch returned to his computer and crafted a meeting invite to Tiffany's e-mail address and clicked send.

2

Tiffany arrived at her desk to a cyber-alert summoning her to a three o'clock meeting with Mitch Alexander. She checked the time on her watch. Forty-five minutes from now.

All jokes about CEO Charming aside, the man intrigued her—and had ever since his arrival at InfoTraxion at the start of the year. She had crossed paths with him just often enough to catch the scent of a polished and confident man who commanded the office but seemed to enjoy engaging with his employees. He had assumed the interim position of regional manager when long-time employee Ted Buckford retired.

In a manner so intrinsic to her character, Tiffany enjoyed watching Mitch more than initiating any form of direct interaction. That way she could simply observe his character and nuances. Most of her colleagues hoped he would assume the east coast post permanently; Tiffany agreed. Mitch Alexander possessed a core of kindness evidenced by his commitment to InfoTraxion's philanthropic endeavors. From a business perspective, he had earned fast approval for being aggressive but astute. He was the kind of man she loved to study—but the prospect of a meeting did a fantastic job of intimidation. His request had to be about the charitable contribution she had requested on behalf of Pets Finding Home.

Or, perhaps it was about Eric…

Stomach rolling, she responded in the affirmative and went to work polishing the Webber Strategic infrastructure and pitch-specific data management analysis. At three o'clock, Tiffany rinsed and dried her tea mug, nerves escalating as the hour-hand inched forward. She returned to her desk and stacked a short sheaf of papers that detailed the efforts of the organization. She paused long enough to pray the Webber project was the purpose of the meeting, not a reprimand of some sort. She saved her contribution to Eric's playbook—it was nearly finished—and straightened the fall of her long, stone necklace. Hoping for the best, she tugged a few ripples from the lapel of a short black jacket she had paired with a silk tank and black slacks. Stylish, professional, confident.

Oh, well. Two out of three wasn't bad.

Before entering Mitch's office, she rapped her knuckles gently against the doorframe to nab his attention. When he looked up from his monitor, when his curious gaze touched hers, anxiety vanished on a welcome swirl of warmth. Then he smiled. All she wanted to do was freeze the moment in place and stare, savor the image of him without need for explanation or apology.

“Hi, Tiffany. Come on in.”

His office was large, his desk tucked close to an expansive window line that framed the far side of the room. Outside, the snow fell and the world bustled, but this space was secluded from the wide-open, 360-degree style featured throughout the rest of the office. Although heavy snowfall partially obscured the view, Tiffany felt as though she could reach out and touch the buildings across the way.

While she gawked, Mitch lifted to a stand. “Let's work at the conference table. It'll be more comfortable.”

He gestured toward a dark wood table surrounded by four matching chairs, which was tucked by the window. Tiffany followed his lead but remained drawn to the stunning, winter-drenched landscape of Midtown. A native of the city, she loved New York in all its shapes, colors and seasons.

“Before we get started, I want to hear about the Webber Strategic project you're working on. How's it going so far? Landing their work would be a fantastic win.”

The observations were friendly, even innocuous. Nonetheless, Tiffany bristled, sorely tempted to chuck the file she had compiled straight into the shiny chrome wastebasket next to Mitch's desk.

Evidently part of this meeting
was
about Eric.

“I understand, and I want you to know the capabilities overview is ready to go, and is fairly standard. The deeper study of Webber's IT network is nearly complete as well. I'll have it ready for presentation before the close of business today.”

She maintained her poise, but defensiveness ate beneath the deliberately smooth surface. Tiffany left her dream world behind and focused instead on professional compliance and her over-all boss. Given the events of the day, she felt a need to prove herself, and certainly didn't want the regional director of operations questioning her commitment or skills. She needed this job in order to pay for school, and there were literally hundreds of thousands of hungry people out there looking for an opportunity like the one she had earned at InfoTraxion. “I'm confident my portion of the bid package will be ready for Eric by ten o'clock tomorrow morning, which is the deadline he delivered.”

At first, the smooth—albeit rapid—explanation didn't stir much of a reaction from CEO Charming; that fact further convoluted her emotions about being tyrannized by Eric. There must have been an underlying bite to her tone because Mitch took the opposite route. Deliberately calm—gauging—he leaned back in his chair. Quiet for the time being, he appraised her in a steady manner then gave a nod.

“All of that in spite of the short warning you were given. From what I hear you received the assignment less than twenty-four hours ago. That's impressive, and I appreciate your efforts. Now, let's talk about your charity request.”