Christmas at Tiffany's Read online

  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 reas
on 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.

  Brandon was the final scheduled prospect, and he hoped for a good result, because the three applicants they had screened thus far were promising, sure, but none of them jumped forward as game changers. Until now, until the idea of moving away, and forward, Mitch hadn’t realized the level of value and protection he placed on his accomplishments in New York.

  Above all that, though, came a sudden and shocking rush of…connection…to Tiffany Zelling. What did it mean to almost literally stumble upon a woman like her, and question so many of his emotions, when he was making ready to leave? What could possibly be the purpose?

  Eyes on the prize, Alexander, he coached himself ruthlessly. Eyes on the prize.

  ~*~

  “Oh, Melody…look at this one.”

  It was Friday night, and Melody had arrived in town yesterday. Hot on a mission to find suitable social occasion attire for the InfoTraxion Christmas party, Tiffany stopped in her tracks, dead center of the dress selections at Macy’s. She nearly caused a collision with her sister who brought up the rear. The object of Tiffany’s affection was a strapless dress of purple velvet with a sweetheart neckline.

  Ever practical, her sister tucked next to her and flipped over the price tag. Wide eyes and a subtle choke-cough told Tiffany everything she needed to know about its cost, even before Melody released a low, smooth whistle.

  “That bad, huh?”

  “Well…yeah…but, it’s on sale.”

  “And you’re evil.”

  The minute Tiffany tried it on—just for fun of course—she pictured herself drifting across the floor of the Rainbow Room, embracing a night of art deco glamour while the Manhattan skyline twinkled like a sprinkling of vivid, white diamonds through uninterrupted floor-to-ceiling windows. She imagined CEO Charming, framed by the view, watching her arrive, and—

  “Tif, if you don't buy that dress, you’re a complete idiot.”

  Tiffany jerked to attention, realizing she had been day dreaming while perched on a small dais in front of a triple panel mirror outside the changing room. The fantasy was lovely, and the dress was so gorgeous. She yearned to indulge…big time…just this once…

  Instead, she heaved a sad sigh. “Thanks for the mental evaluation, but it’s completely impractical and blows my budget to smithereens.” She turned, posed, turned again. Perfectly styled and supple velvet fabric hugged her torso, flowing out from the waist in ripples that danced against her legs. Buying the dress would be bad enough, and she’d definitely need a jacket. A black velvet bolero number would be just perfect, and she had seen one on the clearance rack not far from the dressing room. Maybe it was her size?

  Dreaming of her favorite jewelry store, Tiffany murmured, “I’d love to go all Audrey Hepburn and wear pearls with this. Long layers of shimmery white pearls.”

  “Mmm…polish it off with a pair of dangling crystal earrings and you'll look incredible.” Melody shifted bags of purchases she had already made and squeezed Tiffany’s arm. “As far as the price tag for the dress goes, Merry Christmas. Consider it an early present.”

  Tiffany’s eyes widened. “No…Oh, Mel, no. I couldn’t possibly. That’s way too generous, and—”

  “Nothing doing. You can’t walk out of here without it. Seriously, I want to do it.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing.” They shared a long, affectionate look before Melody pressed on. “Now, what about the secret Santa gift you have to get?”

  “Ugh.” Tiffany had been agonizing about it for days now, repeatedly shifting between the idea of being mean and snarky and following through on the type of Christian kindness the Yong’s had advised. “The best idea I can come up with is a thermal carafe, maybe a cool chrome number, and a gift card to a coffee shop.”

  “That's better than he deserves, and I think it's great. It's professional, appropriate, and even thoughtful. I think it's a score.”

  Side-by-side with her sister, Tiffany nabbed the bolero jacket—it was meant to be, she figured—then added costume pearls to her stash of acquisitions. A quick trip to the on-site coffee boutique and Eric’s gift was checked off her list as well. Happiness spreading, she continued to prowl the aisles of the store, savoring every fairy light, every wispy scent of evergreen, every over-the-top Christmas display of St. Nicholas, of Christmas villages blanketed by artificial snow, of opulent ornaments in all shapes and sizes.

  Once they were shopped out, Tiffany led the way to a warm and cozy beverage and sweets shop, Drinks-On-Us, where she collapsed onto a charming metal bistro chair and stretched her aching legs.

  “What’s the latest on the CEO front?”

  That question returned Tiffany to the present in a big hurry. “He’s not really a CEO. I mean, not yet, anyway…”

  “Mere formality.” Melody sipped and brushed the idea aside with a dramatic wave of her hand. Tiffany grinned at her sister’s antics.

  “You’re probably right. Rumor at work has it he’s interviewing his replacement. The head of HR from LA is in town and they’ve been wrapped up in meetings, which can only mean he’s headed back to California in a month or so, probably to a promotion.”

  “You sound sad about that.”

  “Everyone is. He’s a great—”

  “You sound sad about that.” The pointed piece of repetition was spoken slow and deliberate.

  “I’ll miss him, sure. He provided some nice buffering from Eric, and he’s got a soft spot for charities, and animals. He told me just this afternoon that he’s going to volunteer at the Shelter Helper Event next weekend.”

  Melody’s brows shot clear to her hairline. “You’ll be spending some quality time with him. Nice.”

  “Oh, get over yourself.”

  “Nope.”

  “Don’t push me
toward something I have no business going near, OK? I don’t like feeling riled up around him, I’m not sure how to relate to him, and most of all, I don’t know why he gets under my skin.”

  Melody shot a hand in the air. “Oh, ask me, ask me! I have a few theories.”

  “Would you please cut me a little slack?”

  “Listen, you need to step away from your quiet, though lovely, little safe zone and open up. Mitch is just a guy. In fact, he seems to be a very nice guy.” She polished off her smoothie. “He might even be a sort of rich guy. Tell him to bring his wallet and make a personal donation as well.”

  Tiffany sneered at her typically over-the-top sibling. “Step off and behave. He’s already petitioned and secured a fifteen hundred dollar donation on behalf of InfoTraxion. That’s enough.”

  “That’s impressive.”

  “Melody, he’s impressive.”

  ~*~

  “Jewelry. That’s kind of a personal item, isn’t it? I mean, for a simple work-related secret Santa gift exchange?”

  JR’s verdict caused Mitch’s shoulders to sink. It was bad enough to be braving the hordes of shoppers and Christmas pandemonium at Bloomingdales in order to put to rest a few Christmas gift selections as well as his secret Santa obligation for work. And that one was just the problem. Tiffany was his designated recipient; until now he was clueless about what to get for her. Now, he had found something he liked, something he instantly connected to her. As such, the selection should have been a quick and easy slam-dunk. Oh, no. Not likely.

  Instead, his choice was all wrong. Fantastic. Weren’t there better ways to spend a Friday night after work?

  He bit down on a growl and glared at his accomplice-in-shopping. Although…accomplice might be too kind a word. JR was more like a bribed and coerced victim who only deigned to accompany Mitch into the very depths of department store chaos in order to scratch a few names off his gift-giving list.

  So, Mitch felt entitled to grouse just a tad. “You know? I love Christmas, so don’t take this the wrong way, but, stop ruining the moment. I hate gift-buying as it is, and I’m not giving her gemstones and gold, for heaven’s sake. This is nothing more than a simple and pretty silver ring that does a great job of expressing her personality. What’s the problem?”