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The next morning, Becky pulled on her heavy-duty boots for the second day in a row. Last night, three inches of snow had accumulated. She tromped through the slippery mess to her office, arriving early. The gray, windy day stole her good mood, leaving her feeling mopey and sorry for herself. She stomped off the snow and headed for her cubicle. Stopping to take off her coat, she almost sat before she saw the tiny shopping bag on her chair.
It was a shiny, metallic pink—her favorite color. Once again, fear filled her as she gazed at the gift. She picked up a pen and gingerly used it to pull open the top, to see what was inside without disturbing the package. No luck.
“I’m going to hang up my coat, get coffee, and maybe it will be gone when I return.”
Becky added milk to her beverage and returned to her desk. In her absence, the rest of the staff had gathered. The gift still sat proudly taking possession of her chair. A card dangled off the bag’s handle.
Joy whipped around the partition and stopped. “Another present?”
“I don’t know.”
Trevor Gorman ambled over. “I heard about this yesterday. What’s in there?”
“Don’t you know?” Joy asked in a flirty voice. “I thought you were her Hanukkah Elf.”
Trevor’s face colored. “Me? Uh. Well. You never know.”
His weak denial convinced Becky he’d lied. Damn, it was him!
“I’ve got a meeting,” he said, disappearing down the hall.
“Oh my God. Another present?” Bridget was joined by a woman from accounting and Sam’s secretary.
The women clustered around. “Open it. Open it!”
Becky couldn’t resist. If it came from Trevor, it couldn’t be a bomb because he wasn’t smart enough to make one. Besides, he wouldn’t blow her up until he’d slept with her. So, she was safe. She picked up the bag by the handles and reached inside, her fingers brushed against something soft. She pulled it out.
Damn! A pug Beany Baby! A small, soft, stuffed pug dog, just like Trixie and Norton, her parents’ real-life pugs. Her eyes watered at the thought of the beloved dogs she hadn’t seen in ages.
“A pug! How adorable!” Bridget said, snatching the gift. She and Joy cooed over it.
“What’s all the fuss?” Maryann asked.
The young women murmured something and scattered like roaches in harsh light.
“Hmm. Stuffed animals in the office? Not professional, Rebecca.”
Becky opened a drawer and placed the gift inside.
“Better,” Maryann said. “Please come in after my meeting with Trevor. I have a few things for you. Have you finished that new manuscript by Gordon Albright?”
“Not yet.”
“What are you waiting for. I need your evaluation by end of day, latest!” The tall, thin woman turned on her four-inch heels and strode away.
“So romantic! Just like from a book. An anonymous lover,” crooned Joy, over the partition.
“Whoever he is, he knows I like turtles and pugs. The live ones, I mean.”
“Guess he does. Do you think it’s Trevor?” Joy asked.
“I think it’s you,” Becky said, hiding a smile.
“Me?” Joy’s mouth fell open.
“Yeah. It’s crazy nice, like something you’d do.”
“Wish I could take credit. But it wasn’t me. I guess Trevor must have a nice side,” Joy said.
“We’ve never seen it,” Bridget added.
“We haven’t seen it because it doesn’t exist.” Becky pulled up the manuscript Maryann had referenced. “I’ve gotta finish this.”
Joy returned to her cubicle. Becky leaned back in her chair, resting her feet on her trash can, and clamped a pen between her teeth as she read. This was her favorite part of the job, reading submissions. She had to wade through a lot of crappy, wannabe books, but when she found a good one, electricity shot through her.
Acquisitions was the first step toward creating a bestseller and a famous author. Her interest piqued. Maybe this book would be the one to rocket its writer into fame and fortune and launch her right into the promotion of her dreams.
Still running behind at noon, Becky ate at her desk and kept reading. Truth be told, she’d gotten so engrossed in the story, she didn’t want to put it down, even to take a chance that Sam would be in the cafeteria.
The romantic adventure had a protagonist every woman fantasized about: handsome, brave, and funny. She pictured the character of Washington Smith as another Indiana Jones. Inhaling her food while her eyes flew across page after page, she finished eating in twenty minutes.
“Got that evaluation yet?” Maryann popped her head out of her office.
“Almost.”
“How’s it look?”
“Like a blockbuster.”
* * * *
BECKY STAYED UNTIL six thirty to finish writing her evaluation of the adventure book. A quick glance outside told her it had stopped snowing. She bundled into her down jacket and shoved a hat down over her brown curls. Exhaustion seeped through her. She yawned as she pushed through the door.
The frigid air jarred her awake as she headed for the subway and prayed it wouldn’t be crowded. She caught the train at 14th Street and rode it all the way to 96th.
Fortunately, it was late, and she snagged a seat. The ride seemed to take forever if you had to stand. Dipping her hand into her purse, she closed her fingers around the squishy stuffed pug. The covering was soft and velvety, reminding her of Trixie’s fur. Becky sighed. How she’d love a snuggle with her pugs. The little cloth companion would have to do.
When she reached the apartment, there was enough Chinese food leftover to serve as dinner. Her roommates watched Serendipity, with John Cusack. Becky padded into her room and put candles in her menorah. Taking out her pug, she rested it up against the windowsill as she lit the lights and said the prayer. Watching the small flames, she Skyped her family. Joe, her oldest brother, answered.
“How’s Mom?” Becky asked.
“About the same. No change, yet. But the doctor is hopeful.”
Becky’s shoulders sagged. “Oh.”
“But look who’s here!”
A bark greeted her ears as her brother picked up both pugs and held them close to the phone. Norton mushed his face right up against the device. All Becky could see was something dark, and then wetness smeared across the screen. She laughed in spite of the dispiriting news.
In the background, she heard, “No, Trixie, stop. Come on Norton. Get down, guys. Down.” The picture wobbled, then focused on a pug sporting a wide grin. Norton had always been a ham. Joe put down Trixie while managing to keep the male pug from falling.
“Best laugh all day, Joe.”
“Figured they’d cheer you up.”
“You’re coming home soon, right?” David asked.
“Yeah. Sunday. Early. You’d better be there.”
“We will,” Joe said.
She heard the sound of the doorbell in the background.
“Pizza’s here,” David announced.
“Haven’t either of you learned to cook?” Becky cocked an eyebrow.
“Nope. And it’s not looking like that’s happening anytime soon. Gotta go, squirt, before David eats it all. Love you, Beck.” After a few barks, the screen went dark.
Becky changed into a nightgown and crawled into bed. She took the stuffed pug with her and switched off the light. Touching the little critter, she recalled Norton and Trixie. Remembering some of their antics put a smile on her face. The rescue dogs were eight years old. Becky had brought them home from college on vacation.
When she entered the house with the dogs, her parents had gone ballistic. Reiterating a thousand times how she couldn’t keep them, her folks fell under the pugs’ magic spell. By the end of vacation, her mother had surprised her.
“I hope you hadn’t planned on taking Trixie and Norton back to school with you,” her mother had said.
“Actually, I had.” Becky opened her suitcase on the bed.
“They’re staying here. They’ll get better care here. Regular walks, regular meals. Treats. You can’t afford to take them to the vet. Can you even afford dog food?”
“Really?” She stopped long enough to give her mother a hard stare.
“I know what we said. But they’re happy here.” Her mother fidgeted with the hem of her sweater.
“What about Dad?” Becky rested her hands on her hips.
“Dad? It was his idea.” Her mother grinned.
And so, the pugs had found a new home. Thoughts of home, memories of conversations with her parents and siblings created an ache in her heart. Even though she’d spent summers either traveling or at camp, Becky had never been homesick. To her, life was an adventure and something wonderful, terrifying, or amazing awaited around every corner.
Now, remembering her family brought pain. For the first time, Becky missed home. She longed to be back with her parents, brothers, and the dogs—and for her mother to be well.
She closed her eyes and pictured Washington Smith, the hero of the great book-to-be, on the big screen. With a smile on her face, she fell asleep.
* * * *
WHILE SHE DRESSED ON the third morning of Hanukkah, Becky hoped to find another gift on her desk. Guilt at enjoying the one-sided gift-giving warred with gluttonous delight in anticipating another anonymous present. Pushing through the doors of the office building near Hudson Street, Becky felt her heartbeat jump, like the beat of a native drum. Excitement grew in her veins with each floor she passed in the elevator. Finally, the doors opened on seven. Trying not to look anxious, but failing, she brushed past reception with a quick “hello” and made a beeline for her desk.
Yes! There it sat, in all its glory. A small rectangular package wrapped in gold with a blue ribbon.
“Open it,” Bridget commanded.
Becky reached for the card taped on top. “From the Hanukkah Elf.”
“This is creeping me out,” Joy said.
“It’s like having a guardian angel,” Becky replied. “The Hanukkah Elf.” She picked up the gift and shook it. No rattle, so she tore off the paper. A leather-bound volume of her favorite book, Pride and Prejudice, its title etched in gold leaf, rested in her hand.
Tears welled in Becky’s eyes. “This is my all-time favorite book.”
“Anyone could know that. You said it at the Christmas party. Remember? We went around and everyone had to mention their favorite book?” Joy said. “Is it signed?”
Becky opened the volume, bending slightly and sniffing to take in the new-book scent. There was an inscription.
“Yes. It says ‘To read over and over. The Hanukkah Elf.’ Wow.” She smoothed her palm over the cover, enjoying the feel of the soft, supple, expensive leather.
“That cinches it. Only Trevor has the bucks to buy this,” Bridget said, then flounced back to her desk.
“Harmon in accounting makes good money. He’s single. He could be the one,” Joy put in.
“What about Carson Diller in publicity? Didn’t you go out with him a couple of times?” Bridget asked.
Becky sucked her lower lip between her teeth, could it be Harmon or Carson? Maybe her Hanukkah Elf was Cody in production? She’d never dated Harmon or Cody, but she had gone to lunch a couple of times and to the movies once with Carson.
“Carson Diller! Carson Diller!” Joy said, jumping up and down.
“Could be,” Becky nodded.
Nothing came of her dates with Carson except friendship. Had he changed his mind?
“Do some detective work. I bet you can find out.”
Becky smiled at Joy. “We’ll see.”
“Everyone standing around—not working? Another anonymous gift, Rebecca?” Maryann stood with her hands on her hips. “Come into my office.”
“Sorry.” Becky shoved the book in her desk and shut the drawer, then followed her boss.
She sat opposite Maryann, across a large glass desk. All the furniture at Homes and Ralph was modern. Stephen Homes explained that books are what’s going on now and therefore the publishing offices should look sleek and modern, as well.
“I’ve sent your evaluation back to you with questions in track changes. Please answer them and return the document to me this afternoon.”
“Will do.”
“And, tomorrow, flag any places where Gordon’s writing needs work, places for the editor to take a longer look.”
Becky nodded.
“Here. Read these three and write up evaluations.” Maryann tossed three flash drives at Becky.
“When do you want them?”
“When can you have them?”
Becky frowned. She didn’t have any plans this week except lighting the candles and licking her wounds. “I guess by the end of the week.”
“Good. That’s all.” Maryann picked up her phone and swiveled in her chair to face the window. Becky got the hint and returned to her desk.
She sighed and opened the email from Maryann. Before she knew it, it was lunchtime.
“Come on, the accounting department is having their holiday lunch and they invited you, me, and Bridget,” Joy grabbed Becky’s arm.
Becky glanced out the window. There was no precipitation. “What’s the temperature?”
“Cold. Who cares? Carson Diller’s coming. Your chance to grill him. Come on, Becky, spend a couple of bucks on lunch.”
Movement to her right caught her eye. Sam Golden sloughed his coat over broad shoulders and headed for the elevator.
“Okay. You win.” Becky opened her drawer and grabbed her purse.
“Good. Interrogate Carson. Find out if he’s your secret lover.”
Becky held up her palm. “Wait! Whoever this is, it isn’t a secret lover.”
“Okay, okay, admirer, then.”
“Whatever. Let’s go.” Becky slung her bag on her shoulder and headed for the closet. Just before the elevator doors closed, her gaze connected with Sam’s. He smiled and raised his hand. She smiled back. Then he was gone.
Lunch with the accounting department usually meant plenty of drinks and burgers. They didn’t disappoint. Wine flowed like water and beer was purchased by the pitcher.
Everyone asked about her mother. How did they know? Word traveled fast at H & R, but within five minutes, they had her laughing at some silly joke.
Joy turned a sharp eye on Carson Diller. “Got all your gift shopping out of the way?”
“Yep. Except my sister. She’s a nerd. So hard to buy for,” he replied.
“Gift card,” Joy said. “buying for anyone special this year? Maybe a Hanukkah present or two or four or eight?”
Carson laughed. “You think I’m Becky’s Hanukkah Elf?”
“You could be,” Joy said.
“Maybe I am?” He shot a sexy look at Becky. “I hear you’re hot to see The Nutcracker at Lincoln Center.”
“Who wouldn’t be?”
“Maybe the Hanukkah Elf has something big up his sleeve.” Carson’s eyes glowed with mischief.
She felt heat rush to her face. Is Carson admitting he’s giving me those gifts? Breathless as if someone had punched her in the stomach, she didn’t know what to think.
“Guess you’ll have to wait and see. Or keep guessing forever,” he said, leaning over to whisper the last part directly to Becky.
“Oh my God. What if he doesn’t reveal himself? What if I never know who the Hanukkah Elf is?”
“I bet he does. And you might be surprised,” Carson said.
“Aha! So you know?” Joy pounced.
“I didn’t say that. I’m guessing, just like you.” Carson picked up his beer.
Becky chowed down on a Philly cheesesteak. Between the heavy workload and the mystery of the Hanukkah Elf, she’d developed a voracious appetite.
“Another glass of wine?” Carson asked, his eyes gleaming.
Becky shook her head. Could he be the Hanukkah Elf?
* * * *
THAT NIGHT, BECKY PLACED her new book in her top drawer and stuck candles in the menorah. After reciting the prayer in Hebrew and in English, she gazed out the window. Her room faced the backyard of the townhouse, affording her a view of the rear ends of homes on 93rd Street. Her gaze swept up and down the row houses. Several buildings had picture windows.
She spied families setting up Christmas trees, decorating them, or eating dinner. In some, there were working fireplaces their flames cast a reddish glow. The families had young children, reminding her of when she, David, and Joe were kids, helping to set the table, arguing about who had kitchen duty that night, and anticipating much-desired toys for the holiday.
Sighing, she missed the days of being a child, dependent, and taken care of. Who knew living in New York City on her own would be so stressful? She’d watched reruns of “Sex in the City” over and over, dreaming of living a glamorous life in Manhattan. But reality turned out to be a different picture. Instead of buying exquisite designer clothing, she bargain-shopped, hawking sales. The images of rich dinners in expensive restaurants faded into the mist, replaced by the reality of sharing dishes at the Chinese restaurant. She could barely afford a movie once a month.
Missing her family, Becky wondered if life in the Big City would end up being worth the sacrifices. Had she proven to her father she could make it on her own? Did it matter? Staring out the window, she longed to be part of a family preparing for a celebration. At twenty-eight, maybe she was ready to settle down and start her own?
But she’d need a man—who’d be the right man? Her mind whirled. Would he be the Hanukkah Elf or someone she had yet to meet? Joy and Bridget never tired of endless speculation on the identity of the Hanukkah Elf. Each new suggestion set her imagination in motion. Could she see herself with Harmon from accounting or Carson from publicity? What about Trevor Gorman? Would she give him a chance?
She didn’t know any of them well enough to have a valid opinion. And what if he turned out to be someone she didn’t like? Perhaps Charlie from the mailroom? No, he’d not have enough money to buy a leather-bound book. Once again, she turned to peep in the windows of her neighbors and imagined herself in those warm, cozy homes, eating the roasts so richly displayed on platters surrounded by potatoes and veggies, and drinking expensive wine poured into gleaming crystal stemware.
She picked up her notebook. Perhaps these windows, the scenes inside, and her dreams would be the inspiration for her first work of fiction? She opened to a fresh, blank page and placed pen to paper.
* * * *
THE MORNING OF DAY four was frosty and clear. The sun shone a cold light on the sleepy city, just warm enough to melt the remaining snow and ice. Becky bounded out of bed, energized by the story she’d begun the night before, and the promise of a gift on her desk.
She dressed in a plaid skirt, white blouse and red jacket. Festive, she thought as she traipsed through the wet streets to the subway. The hope that the Hanukkah Elf had left something for her spurred her on. She hurried along the sidewalk, not bothering to gawk at the gorgeous Christmas windows of the stores she passed. Hell, she couldn’t afford what they were displaying, so why waste time? She arrived twenty minutes early.
When the elevator doors opened, she raised her hand to wave as she skedaddled past the receptionist and headed for her desk. There sat a package, in a horizontal silvery-blue foil bag. It was bigger than before. She tore the card off the gift. From: The Hanukkah Elf.
She wished for a more personal message—a hand-written one rather than printed out. Maybe she could identify the handwriting? Shrugging her shoulders, she ripped open one end of the bag and the scent of chocolate met her nose. Her mouth watered.
Becky slid a chocolate babka out. A gentle squeeze revealed it was fresh. Probably purchased that morning. If she could find out who had arrived early...
“Well, hello. I see your secret elf has already made a delivery.” Trevor Gorman stood at the other end of her desk, grinning. “Are you going to share?”
“Did you buy this, Trevor?”
“If I said yes, would you go out with me?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not going to tell you. Share?”
Together they walked to the break room kitchen. Becky fished through the cluttered draw for a knife. Trevor grabbed paper plates from the cabinet. She cut two slices. They sat down to eat.
“This is almost like a date. But cheaper.”
“Not funny.” Why didn’t he get the hint and leave her alone? Was the man’s head as thick as a stone wall?
The rich, intense chocolate flavor blended so perfectly with the buttery bread texture. Becky closed her eyes to focus on the deliciously sinful taste experience of the perfect chocolate babka. Damn! The Hanukkah Elf knew where to shop.
“What will it take to get you to change your mind? Flowers every day for a week?”
“Let it alone, Trevor.”
“I don’t have problems getting other women to go out with me. I’m rich. I’m famous. But none of that seems to mean anything to you.”
“I’m not going to end up a notch on your bedpost, okay. Can we leave it there?” She took the last bite of the bread.
“What makes you think I’d get rid of you?”
She made a face and stood up. Damn, the man was ruining her lovely Hanukkah gift.
“I have to get back to work.”
“Suit yourself. You don’t know what you’re missing. And don’t be surprised if you get buried with flowers.”
She left him alone at the table and hustled back to her desk in time to answer a phone call.
“Becky? Mr. Ralph wants to meet with you at ten.”
“Okay.”
As she replaced the receiver, her nerves kicked up. Uh-oh. Why did Mr. Ralph want to see her? Had Trevor complained? She swallowed. Mr. Ralph had never summoned her before. She wasn’t sure he even knew who she was. Stuck back in her little cubicle, she never even saw him pass by in the morning. What could he possibly want with her? Nothing good.