Christmas at Tiffany's (6 page)

Mitch grinned. That meant Jay—JR to his friends—would be attending the Christmas party. Mitch would have an ally to hang out with. Inviting Wendy would have been—he pondered the issue for a moment—complicated. Asking her to join him in New York would push matters between them to a level Mitch wasn't prepared for.

Especially given his mysterious reaction to Tiffany.

~*~

At just after ten o'clock in the morning, Tiffany joined other employees in the lunch room, chatting boisterously and laughing as selections commenced for those who wanted to participate in a company-wide secret Santa gift exchange. She sat with a couple of her friends at one of the small tables scattered throughout the open space and sipped from a mug of peppermint tea. Names had been printed, folded and deposited into a deep, plastic bowl. Before long, it was her turn to reach into the raffle pot and pull a recipient.

Which turned out to be Eric Parker.

Oh, how fabulous.
Wasn't this result of the gift-giving lottery just swell? Her gaze automatically darted to the man—and probably betrayed her sense of panic. Arms folded across his chest, he lounged against the far wall, sharing what appeared to be laughter-filled conversation with a few other department heads. With slick polish and sharp, watchful eyes, he struck her as being so cocky. Part of the reaction stemmed from bias, and Tiffany knew it. Another part stemmed from anger, pure and simple.

Mitch was called forward next. Their shoulders brushed in passing which Tiffany absorbed and enjoyed. He caught her eye, rested there for a quick beat, but pleasure faded fast as she returned to her chair. She envied Mitch's smooth confidence and command. He extracted one of the few remaining slices of paper, reviewed the name then tucked the piece into the breast pocket of his suit coat.

Meanwhile, Tiffany stewed. What was she supposed to give a man who, in essence, wasn't much more than a bully? Why couldn't she have pulled Mitch's name? He would have been a cinch. A melt occurred at the core of her chest, returning warmth to her blood stream. A smile tipped her lips. She would have trotted herself straight down to the lobby of their office building and purchased a gift card to Scarpello's.

“This has been a great kick-off to the season of giving.”

Mitch's voice jolted her back to the present; the tender heat of a blush swept upward against her neck and cheeks.

“Don't forget, a secret Santa gift will be left on each recipient's desk the morning of December 22
nd
. Until then, I look forward to seeing everyone this weekend at the holiday party, and again next weekend at the Shelter Helper project. Your efforts are exemplary, and showcase everything that's best about our company. Thank you for that.”

A round of applause concluded matters but a cloud of discouragement shadowed Tiffany's mood. She needed an attitude adjustment with regard to Eric and a heart adjustment with regard to Mitch Alexander because infatuation continued to work her over…but good.

~*~

Every work day, Tiffany embraced the revitalizing habit of taking two twenty-minute walks through the office lobby and atrium. As always, motion soothed. Endorphins blasted away the haze of uncertainty that tracked her like a ghost these days. In an added mental bonus, today was Wednesday, which meant lunch time Bible study.

Each week, from twelve thirty until one o'clock she shared food and Scripture with a half-dozen or so participants at Eats and Treats. Following the secret Santa escapade, just before joining her friends, she stuffed a pair of ear buds in place, tuned out the world at large, and cycled through her play list, cranking the volume on the latest hit from Mercy Me. She sailed into walk number one of the day, paced by a series of strategic song selections designed to propel and motivate.

After that, she joined shop owners Rosemarie and Lee Yong, who sponsored the gathering, and sank with a sigh onto one of the bench-style seats at a booth to the rear of the shop. While the group assembled, she accepted a glass of iced water from Rosemarie and immediately guzzled about half the contents. A selection of fresh sushi was placed at the center of the table on a large, oblong plate by Lee Yong then the gathering began with an opening prayer. After that came a reading from the Book of Matthew, Chapter Five.

Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God.

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they will be called children of God.

Blessed are those who are persecuted because of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.

Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you and falsely and say all kinds of evil against you because of me. Rejoice and be glad, because great is your reward in heaven.

Tiffany ignored her sampling of veggie sushi for the time being and expanded the view on her cellphone so she could re-read the passage Mr. Yong had just delivered aloud. The recitation of the Beatitudes moved Tiffany, leaving her to drift into a comforting message of assurance amidst chaos.

It shouldn't have surprised her that God stepped into the pages of her life and brought His truth to the forefront. Jesus's language to those in need, to those who felt disenfranchised, spoke to her and she stilled to a point of much-needed peace.

“Insult and persecution.” Rosemarie spoke up, adjusting a pair of small, black frame glasses to a higher perch on her nose. “They are terrible things to endure. Terrible. Lee and I learned about Jesus from American missionaries who held prayer sessions and church services at the rear of a coffee shop in Dandong, a Chinese city on the border of North Korea. I like to think what we're doing now carries on that tradition. It's important!” She set aside her Bible while her husband nodded emphatically.

“We're so blessed to live in a place, in a time, where we can worship without fear.”

Tiffany used chop sticks to lift a roll, listening as Mr. Yong continued.

“The people who ran the shop where we came to know the Bible were discovered as Christians. Their livelihood was taken away—closed down. Rather than live under the ideology of government-run churches, we immigrated to America so we could live in freedom.”

“I've always admired his fight for God.” Rosemarie rested her hand on Mr. Yong's forearm. The softness in the woman's eyes wrote volumes in the book of love and commitment.

Tiffany had crossed swords with enemies; she had been unjustly treated when fulfilling proper expectations. Yet never—ever—had she been forced to endure the kind of nightmare faced by the Yong's. How could she fret corporate machinations in the face of such bravery?

“Miss Tiffany, you are quiet today. What do you think of the day's readings?”

“The words hit hard, as always.”

“How, sweet one?” Lifting a simple silver tea pot, Rosemarie offered Tiffany a serving of steaming Oolong.

“I'm in the middle of a struggle at work that mirrors the kind of battle Jesus describes, but after hearing your story, I feel ashamed of letting such a small set of circumstances overrule my ability to go still and rest in God.” From there, in generic terms and without naming Eric outright, she described the situation. “Part of my dilemma is about self-preservation and job security—”

“Which is understandable. I've been there, too. Try turning the evil to good and you'll put God in motion. You have a perfect opportunity to do so with the gift exchange, right?”

The challenge came from Estelle Morgan, a fellow group member who was the same age as Tiffany.

“Good point.” Tiffany spoke in a thoughtful murmur. Her initial response to the name selection results had been far from Christian, but she could take the high road. And then there was Mitch. Hadn't he understood the unfair behavior and taken steps to support a cause she loved?

She raised the issue with her group, which sparked a whole new discussion, this centered on work versus personal relationships.

“The part that takes me by surprise is the recognition that I want to impress him. I want to earn his…respect. His trust.”

“And, thereby, his admiration?”

The slightest lilt of knowing flavored Rosemarie's question. A sweet rush of attraction swept Tiffany through. Heat tangled with dizziness and pressed against the restraint of her natural and ever-present shyness. “Oh, don't go too far with that scenario. To be frank, I doubt I'd know what to do with a man like Mitch Alexander. He's oceans away from my league, and that's OK.”

Lee Yong frowned at that verdict. “What we do—what we are about—is love. He would be lucky to inhabit your league. You need to stop retreating and selling yourself short. If he has come into your life with a punch, there's a reason for it. You need to think about that. You need to pray about that. Don't live a life of fear. Don't be timid!”

Tiffany nodded, not so much to agree as to appease her friend. “Point taken, Mr. Yong. Thank you.”

He softened immediately. “God bless you, sweet one.”

“You as well, and I'll see you next week.”

She strode to the bank of elevators that would lead her to the thirty-eighth floor, pondering the impact of the Scriptures they had reviewed today as well as the mentoring of her friends. She had always been one to blend into her surroundings, and there was nothing wrong with that characteristic. She'd never be the kind of chic, urban glamazon like the hundreds upon hundreds who brushed past her each day. She meant it when she said that was OK. She loved to observe, not bask in the limelight. There was beauty to that fact, and she knew it, but she also knew she couldn't continue to allow her natural sense of reservation to push people away from her heart.

Especially when it came to someone who enticed and excited her the way Mitch Alexander did. He unsettled her safe and comfortable sense of the status quo. That spelled trouble, but in an odd form of paradox, it also spelled promise…

5

Mitch made excuses to see Tiffany, to be close enough to observe. JR's arrival in the city complicated matters, because everyone realized the search for Mitch's successor had reached critical mass. As such, office-wide attention homed in on him and sharpened focus. Stilted behavior turned into the rule of the day.

Regardless of office innuendo and curiosity, all of a sudden he noticed everything about Tiffany.
Everything
. In the days that followed, he took note of finer details, like her ‘tea routine.' Each morning she had a habit of spending a few minutes in the café area of their office space, chatting with colleagues while she brewed peppermint tea. The scent struck Mitch as spicy and appealing. Today, oddly enough, her glasses landed on his mental radar screen. She probably wore contacts as a rule, because she didn't sport glasses very often, but today she wore red frames that struck him as both studious and adorable. The stylish, oval specs popped color in a lovely way against her fair skin and dark, chin-length hair, calling attention to large, dark brown eyes.

And when she really lost herself in a given task—as seemed to be- the case right now—she tended to nip at her lower lip, visibly focused and intent. The image stirred a pulse jump and the kind of warmth he hadn't even known he was missing before now. Before her.

And, he was staring.

Mitch forced back a groan and focused on the conversation he held with a colleague as they stood near Tiffany's work station. He discussed Internet connectivity issues being faced by a prominent client who had just moved into multi-floor space in a large and less than updated office building near Battery Park.

He turned toward his office, intending to prep for an upcoming interview. At that exact moment, Tiffany noticed him, and a smile curved into life so quickly, with such unguarded sweetness Mitch froze for an instant. He answered the gesture promptly with a nod and smile of his own. Enticed, he ambled toward her station and came up with a perfectly valid work-centric reason to connect.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Mitch.”

“I wanted to catch you up on the status of the Shelter Helper program for Pets Finding Home.”

A spontaneous, happy light struck her features.

“We have a full slate of volunteers for the event.”

“Already?”

Mitch nodded, savoring the taste of her enthusiasm.

“My word, that's amazing. To be honest, I was afraid we'd struggle to find many people who'd be able to step up so quickly; it's such a busy time of year.”

“I thought that might be a possibility as well, but it's the holidays, and it seems homeless animals tug at the heart, which is as it should be.”

Her smile deepened a pair of soft dimples at the corners of long, tempting lips… “Spoken like a fur-parent. You should consider adopting a shelter animal when you return to Los Angeles.” Her eyes went slightly narrow and speculative.

There was a leading edge to that comment, an underlying question that Mitch had to side-step in deference to office protocol. Nonetheless, he found himself wishing he could share his thoughts with her. He was three-fourths of the way through the interview process and nothing much about his replacement prospects lit a match to his ambition to move away from his current post. “By the way, you were, indeed, the first one to sign up. I came in second. I hate coming in second.”

She laughed at the tease; surprise and delight warmed away the questions in her eyes and moved matters away from a sticky set of office circumstances.

Mitch gave her a wink before forcing himself to conclude their conversation and attend to the upcoming interview. “Before I leave, I have to tell you one last thing. The pitch to Webber IT was a success. We landed the account.”

“Mitch, that's awesome!”

Her smile ignited his senses like sparklers being lit, like fireworks bursting with color, sound and sensation stretching across an ink-black sky…

Moments later, JR joined him in the conference room with Brandon Gillette, replacement candidate number four. Mitch bore down on the responsibilities at hand. He needed to stick to plan. He needed to find his way back home…to California and everything that waited for him there.