The Nick Before Christmas by K.L. Brady

Author:K.L. Brady [Brady, K.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LadyLit Press

Chapter Thirteen

Columbus Day – 73 Days to Christmas Eve

Nickie's nest should’ve been roped in police tape given the vicious manner in which Jordan killed her piece all those weeks ago. On her return to the scene of his crime on her career, she prayed for protection. Reeling from the embarrassment of her colossal failures, one after another for weeks on end, she crept into her office with her angel ornament in hand, shut the door, and prayed she could survive the day (if not the week) with her job and sanity intact.

The mere thought of facing another merciless wounding by Jordan’s pen left her skittish about ever putting her fingers on the keyboard again. As it turned out, she didn't have to wait long for her first cup of doom. Dottie delivered a hot cup of java and her warm disposition to ease her into the pain.

"So," Dottie squeezed her hips into Nickie's undersized guest chair. She personified pumpkin spice with her suit and scarf. "You're back."

Nickie nodded. In the flesh. “Quitting before Jordan fired me had crossed my mind, but I'm always astounded at how fast courage develops when one is faced with a future of starvation and darkness—no groceries, no electricity." Nickie would have loved nothing better than to quit, curl under her comforter, and sulk in a pungent stench of incompetence wearing funky pajamas. She didn't have the income or savings to abandon her aspirations.

Dottie burst into laughter and slapped her knee like Nickie's mom used to.

"You laugh," Nickie said. "But quitting is more of a privilege than a right or a luxury. I can't afford to lose. The choices available to me in this life are hard work or homelessness. Black and white. No gray."

Dottie hollered. What Nickie said wasn't funny in a humorous sense, but the truth always seems to find its way to the funny bone.

"I'm not only laughing because it's true," Dottie said. "We are of the same mind and financial status. I've got something else brewing that may relieve your suffering."

"A barrel of Jack Daniels? A new boss?" Nickie asked.

"I said relieve your suffering, not end it. How about a hot cup of tea first?"

Nickie nodded. "And some paper clips and Post-It notes, please. They may come in handy if I'm ever allowed to write again."

"You've got nothing to worry about." Dottie sounded surer than Nickie's gut. “Nobody else wanted your job.”

With a few minutes of silence, she picked up The Sun's Friday edition to read Jordan's missive on old Gus Byrd again, as she had for weeks.

He'd delivered an obituary, all right—no mistaking the difference between her piece and his. He didn't celebrate Gus's life; he honored the dead. The tome left her depressed and questioning her life choices, including her decision to read Devlin's piece. Granted, she'd have no clue about how Gus’s friends and family responded to the news of her death (when the day came), but at least she hoped to leave them with smiles and laughter—if not a pile of cash, real estate, and investment returns.

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