with it. Surely a guy like that can handle the blow so you don’t have to martyr your whole business over his bad reputation?”
Part of me knew she was right. But publishing that piece now? After everything? There would be no going home to Chris and romantic dinners and his kisses and...everything else he had to offer if I went ahead with this. And beyond what he thought, I could never forgive myself.
“Something to think about,” she offered, squeezing my hand one last time. “Let me know if you need anything. I’ll keep Joel at bay for as long as I can.”
“Thanks, Veronica,” I smiled as she left, feeling completely torn inside.
I tried to tend to other work matters, but there was a creeping sick ache in my stomach that kept getting worse by the minute. Everything felt gross all of a sudden.
When I finally accepted that I couldn’t focus on anything else, I started reading through the trending articles about the Palmers. Many of them were far worse than anything I had written, and most of them weren’t based on anything more than rumors and financial stats. How could they be so brutal towards someone they didn’t even know? I guessed I had been prepared to do the same thing...but I knew how wrong that was now.
I read until my eyes hurt and shut my laptop, trying to pull my spiraling thoughts together. At least it was still Christmas, which was somewhat soothing to the twisting knots building inside of me. No matter what happened with me, Chris, or this stupid article...There would still be holiday ham and presents and time with family by the fire with hot cocoa and Christmas music and…
Was I crazy? Or was all of that starting to lose its sheen too? I had started imagining that Chris would be around for all of those things...but whatever I decided to do with this article could change that.
I finally gave up on getting anything done at the office and gathered up my things. The sight of the wrapped ornament in my bag almost made me want to cry. I couldn’t drag his name through the mud like everyone else now. I just couldn’t. Could I? Maybe Veronica was right. Maybe I had to look out for myself first, but nothing felt less in the Christmas spirit than that.
I tossed the strap over my shoulder and headed out the door. I had to talk to Chris, then I could decide what to do.
16
Chris
I had never been the type of guy to walk down the street all smiles, whistling a tune. In fact, usually when I saw guys like that I wanted to stop them and ask for the number of whatever doctor they saw that was giving them such a good Xanax prescription.
But I guess now I was on a different sort of drug. Hazel had stirred something up inside of me, and I had some idea of what she must feel walking down the street during December, admiring all the lights and decorations, basking in all the music and everyone’s collective good mood.
It didn’t go unnoticed at the office either. My assistant immediately thought I was sick because I was so happy and nicer than usual. She didn’t know that I could finally confirm their Christmas bonuses later that afternoon, and it was always a good day when you got to give people money and then go home to have dinner with a beautiful, smart, funny, clever woman.
But my first item on the agenda that day was to review a few marketing plans with our PR lady, Brenda. She had compiled some vintage stock ads from Palmers back in my grandfather’s day and was suggesting using them again to remind people that we were more than just a store. We were a family tradition.
“I love it,” I told her, scanning the old black and white and sepia toned photos and illustrations spread across my desk.
“You do?” she asked, seeming surprised. “Sir, that’s great! I was excited about this idea. I just wasn’t so sure you would…”
“No, I say run with it.” My eyes focused in on one picture in particular. A Rockwell style illustration of a family sitting around a table for Christmas dinner. “Mind if I hold on to this one?”
“Not at all,” she replied, gathering up the rest of them to take with her.
“Great work, Brenda. Thank you. Can you send my assistant in on your way out?”
“Certainly, sir.”
When my assistant popped her head