Christmas Elopement. Anne Eames

and the older woman’s mouth curved upward in a conspiratorial grin.

      “You don’t mean to say—”

      “Oh, yes. That’s exactly what I mean to say.” They shared a silent moment, imagining the shock on Cash’s face when he returned. Suddenly Carrie sprang out of her chair.”You call in the T-shirt order and I’ll go talk to the guys in the yard. They must be clearing at least one job site that has a big pine tree on it.”

      With a reassuring pat to Fran’s hand Carrie strode off, devilish excitement pulsing through her veins. It was only Thursday, and Cash wouldn’t be back till next Wednesday afternoon—the day before Thanksgiving. Perfect. He said she could try a few morale boosters. What better way to bring about a few smiles than decorating a Christmas tree? Oh, and of course there was the matter of family photos and plants in each employee’s work space…

      It was all she could do to keep from skipping down the hall. She could see the happy faces already. The first newsletter would go out tomorrow, along with paychecks. In it they’d read her suggestions. Yesiree, Bob, by Wednesday afternoon this place would be humming.

      

      Wednesday afternoon Cash stood the collar up on his trench coat and leaned into the biting wind as he made his way to the back door. Just inside, he checked the second hand on his wristwatch, then jogged up the emergency stairwell. At the top of the third floor he looked at his watch again and calculated the time. Damn. Ten seconds slower than last week. He was getting soft. Time for a good workout at the gym.

      He took off his coat and folded it over his arm as he strolled down the hall to his office, humming along with the Christmas carol that was playing over the—

      He stopped in the middle of the hall and listened. The soft instrumental sounds came from everywhere. He’d never used the sound system except to page someone. Was it a radio or tape? But more important, where had one come from, since the company had never owned either? It took only a heartbeat to figure out who was behind this. Well, he’d just have to set things straight with Ms. Sargent.

      With each long stride, the music swelled in his head and he remembered earlier Christmases, times when the sounds of loud singing and bawdy jokes roused him from his boyhood dreams, when glasses were flung into the fireplace amid gales of drunken laughter.

      By the time he’d approached Carrie’s office, he’d worked up a good head of steam. How could anyone get a honest day’s work done with music playing? He rounded her corner ready to do battle but the office was empty. Well, not exactly empty. She wasn’t there, but a large potted ficus stood in front of the glass wall, the blinds pulled completely open. A framed portrait of Carrie with her father hung on an adjacent wall. So she’s made herself right at home, has she? Not for long. Hadn’t she noticed there were no personal effects in the other employees’ areas? If she had, did she think it coincidental?

      He stood in the doorway and pushed his suit coat back with his balled fists, wondering where the loose cannon he’d hired was hiding…and why he’d ever hired her in the first place. God knew there’d been enough warning signs that spelled Trouble.

      He stalked to his own office, threw his top coat over a side chair and went in search of Trouble. It shouldn’t be hard to find all that red hair, not to mention she never shut up. He could hardly wait to see what kind of getup she had on today. He wondered if she even owned a simple navy or gray suit.

      He started with Peggy, but she wasn’t at her desk, either. He noticed the answering system had been switched on. At three o’clock in the afternoon? Now whose idea was that? He raked his hair with his fingers and nodded his head. Stupid question.

      He headed for Fran’s desk. Certainly she’d know what was going on.

      But when he got there, instead of Fran, he found an ornately framed photo of a pompadoured gray poodle next to a flowing English ivy that cascaded to the floor. Pivoting in the aisle, he saw more of the same on other desks. One short week and the place looked like some great-grandmother’s parlor. Plants and photos, plants and photos…

      He heard laughter and voices from somewhere and stopped to listen. They were coming from the atrium. A moment later he was back at the elevator, punching the button for the third time. He was tempted to take the stairs when the door finally opened. He rode to the lobby, seething. Didn’t anybody believe in work around here? He’d been out of town many times before, and nothing like this had ever happened. He would have thought his old-timers would…The elevator opened, and the music he’d heard earlier grew louder, along with laughter and the shuffling of boxes, tinkling of…

      He bounded out and came to a dead stop. Hands on hips, he stared at the atrium in front of him, not believing what his eyes told him. Dozens of busy little elves dressed in burgundy-and-green T-shirts darted around in front of a tree that towered at least twenty feet above them. Tall ladders had been erected on all sides, with employees perched near the top leaning into the tree. Bulbs were being handed to them from a chain of hands stationed on lower rungs and the floor below.