A Christmas Message - Debbie Macomber Page 0,81

extra that’s distributed at my discretion.”

“Well, yes, but you’ve given us one every year since you went out on your own.”

“That’s because I could afford to.”

“You’ve had a decent year,” Marsha said calmly.

Holly wanted to stand and cheer. Marsha was right; profits were steady despite the economy. The staff had worked hard, although their employer took them for granted. Lindy Lee didn’t appear to notice or value the team who backed her both personally and professionally. More times than she cared to count, Holly had dropped off and picked up Lindy’s dry cleaning or run errands for her. She often went above and beyond anything listed in her job description.

Not once had she complained. The way Holly figured it, her main task was to give Lindy Lee the freedom to be creative and do what she did best and that was design clothes.

“A decent year, perhaps,” Lindy Lee repeated. “But not a stellar one.”

“True,” Marsha agreed. “But you’re holding your own in a terrible economy.”

“All right, I’ll reconsider.” Lindy Lee walked over to the window, her back to Holly. Not wanting to be caught listening, Holly quietly stood. There was plenty to do away from her desk—like filing. Clutching a sheaf of documents, she held her breath as she waited for Lindy’s decision.

“Everyone gets the same bonus as last year,” Lindy Lee said with a beleaguered sigh.

Holly released her breath.

“Everyone except Holly Larson.”

Her heart seemed to stop.

“Why not Holly?” Marsha asked.

“She doesn’t deserve it,” Lindy Lee said flippantly. “She’s out of the office at the stroke of five and she’s been late for work a number of mornings, as well.”

The bookkeeper was quick to defend Holly. “Yes, but she’s looking after her nephew while her brother’s in Afghanistan. This hasn’t been easy for her, you know.”

Lindy Lee whirled around and Holly moved from her line of vision in the nick of time. She flattened herself against the wall and continued to listen.

“Yes, yes, I met the boy this weekend. She brought him on Saturday when she came in to decorate.”

“On her own time,” Marsha said pointedly.

“True, but if she managed her time better, Holly could’ve done it earlier. As it is, the decorations are up much later than in previous years. If I was giving out bleeding-heart awards this Christmas, I’d make sure Holly got one. No, I won’t change my mind,” she snapped as Marsha began to protest. “A bonus is a bonus, and as far as I’m concerned Holly doesn’t deserve one. It’s about merit, you know, and going the extra mile, and she hasn’t done that.”

Holly gasped.

“But—”

“I’ve made my decision.”

Marsha didn’t argue further.

Holly didn’t blame her. The bookkeeper had tried. Holly felt tears well up but blinked them away. She was a good employee; she worked hard. While Lindy Lee was correct—these days she did leave the office on time—there’d been many a night earlier in the year when she’d stayed late without being asked. She’d often gone that extra mile for her employer. Yet all Lindy seemed to remember was the past three months.

She felt sick to her stomach. So there’d be no bonus for her. Although the amount of money wasn’t substantial—maybe five hundred dollars—it would’ve made all the difference. But somehow, she promised herself, she’d find a way to buy Gabe his special Christmas toy.

* * *

Even though she was distracted by her financial worries, Holly managed to enjoy dinner with Jake and Gabe that evening. Jake brought chopsticks along with their take-out Chinese—an order large enough to feed a family of eight. Several of the dishes were new to Holly. He’d chosen moo shu pork and shrimp in lobster sauce, plus barbecue pork, egg rolls, fried rice and almond fried chicken.

Gabe loved every minute of their time with Jake. As he so eloquently said, “It’s nice being around a guy.”

“I don’t know,” Jake commented as he slipped his arm around Holly’s waist. “Women aren’t so bad.”

Gabe considered his comment carefully. “Aunt Holly’s okay, I guess.”

“You guess,” she sputtered. Using her chopsticks she removed the last bit of almond fried chicken from her nephew’s plate.

“Hey, that was mine,” Gabe cried.

“That’s what you get for criticizing women,” Holly told him, and then, to prove her point, she reached for his fried dumpling, too. In retaliation, Gabe reached across for her egg roll, dropping it on the table.

Jake immediately retrieved it and stuck one end in his mouth. “Five-second rule,” he said just before he bit down.

When they’d finished, they cleared the table and settled down

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