Elf Against the Wall: A Holiday Romantic Comedy (The Wynter Brothers Book 2)
Elf Against the Wall: Chapter 1

My palms left damp spots on the festive red-and-gold planner clutched tightly in my hands.

Too bad the woman sitting across the desk from me was not about to make my Christmas wishes come true. She looked down her nose at the folder of work examples I’d brought with me to the meeting.

When I’d received the calendar invite half an hour ago, I knew something was up.

“As you can see,” I told the HR director in a last-ditch effort to save my job, “I am organized, creative, and have been an integral member of the admin team, helping to plan corporate events, manage conference schedules, and performing other skills required of a successful administrative assistant at Quantum Cyber.”

“Except for not engaging in inappropriate relationships with your coworkers.” The HR director wore a coldly polite expression.

Inwardly, I cringed. Outwardly, I tried to keep my facial expression pleasantly neutral. I was wearing fun holiday bracelets. Who didn’t want to work with a girl with festive holiday bangles?

“I didn’t do that with anyone here,” I stressed. “You can ask all my coworkers. I only had one drink at most at happy hours and then went straight home.”

The HR director frowned. “We have reports that you were stalking a fellow coworker at your previous job.”

“It was three jobs ago, and it wasn’t really stalking, though I can see how the circumstantial evidence might make it seem that—”

“We at Quantum Cyber take sexual harassment claims very seriously.”

“If you really want to get technical, he was the person doing the harassing, since he was my superior and—”

“Please remember, Miss Murphy,” the HR Director interrupted, “that you signed a morality clause upon being hired. We cannot have any member of this firm besmirching its good name.”

“To be fair, this company develops high-tech drone surveillance software for Homeland Security, so…”

“You’re terminated effective immediately.” The HR Grinch handed me a folder. “This is your paperwork. Security is waiting to escort you out.”

“But… but—it’s Christmas!”

“Yes, have a lovely holiday. Additionally, please note that you are not eligible to collect unemployment. We’ve already notified the New York Department of Labor.”

“That’s it,” I told Sawyer as I walked dejectedly along the sidewalk. “I’m officially blacklisted in Manhattan.”

“You were too good for them.” Over the phone, nail polish bottles clinked.

“I can’t believe they fired me the Friday I was signed up to bring donuts. Like, why not fire me yesterday? I thought you weren’t supposed to fire people right before the weekend anyway. Also, do you have any idea how expensive three dozen holiday-themed donuts are?”

“Let’s concentrate on the fact that even a year later, Braeden is still trying to screw you over.”

I dodged a Santa carrying a large sign telling me to buy a mattress this Christmas for my nonexistent husband.

“Felicity is behind this. I know it,” I told Sawyer darkly.

I began the long, thigh-cramping climb up to my sixth-floor walkup. No, it was not my own slice of New York heaven. Instead, I was subleasing the couch.

I had been counting on my next paycheck to pay overdue bills, including the measly rent.

“Don’t worry,” I assured my best-friend-slash-cousin as I unlocked the door to frenzied barking from Snowball. “I’m definitely planning to pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Her tone softened. “It’s an early Christmas present.”

Tears prickled in my eyes as it hit me.

I was at rock bottom, a horrible end to a horrible year during which my family ostracized me at the various family events, no matter how many themed desserts I baked or how many gatherings I planned.

Now here it was, Christmas, my favorite time of the year, and I was broke, miserable, and unemployed.

“I am totally going to pay you back,” I said stubbornly, blinking back the tears. “They didn’t even pay out my PTO.” I sniffled as I thumbed through the packet the Quantum Cyber HR Grinch had given me. “Legally, they have to, right? I earned that PTO.”

Sawyer sighed.

“Let me ask my roommates if you and Snowball could crash here for a little bit. Annalise has a couple big weddings happening in the spring, and she’s always shorthanded. There’s always a bridesmaid who thinks she can do her own makeup, and she absolutely cannot. If I promise Annalise I’ll be on standby, she might let you come back. Maybe you can show her how much more home training Snowball has…”

“No.” I grabbed my patched duffel bag and tossed in the handmade Christmas decorations that festooned my couch. “I don’t want to make things difficult for you.” I stared up at the cracked plaster ceiling. “Maybe I can just stay at my parents’ for the next few weeks.”

“Are they seriously going to let you?”

“I’ll pretend like I’m just there to help out and working from home, and then after Christmas, maybe I can waitress while I get my bartending license.”

“I don’t know…”

“It will work out, right? Maybe I’ll get a Christmas miracle.”

“Screw Christmas miracles. You need to fight back. Braeden is ruining your life. You can’t survive in this town with waitressing work alone.”

I grabbed the glass pan of Christmas caramel cinnamon rolls that were proofing for a treat tonight. After scrounging for paper, I wrote a note to my soon-to-be-former roommates, apologizing profusely for bailing on rent, promising I’d pay them back, and Oh, here are the world’s best cinnamon rolls. Icing is in the fridge.

After giving the cinnamon rolls one more longing look, I finished packing up my stuff, not that there was much. I had already sold anything that had even the remotest amount of value the last time Braeden got me fired from an admin job. Also, you were a more attractive couch guest when you traveled light.

Then I braced myself and sent my mom a text message.

I slumped down on the couch, phone landing next to me on the saggy cushion.

On the bright side, this was confirmation that there definitely was a family group text that I was not included in. Love being talked about behind my back.

Feeling like garbage, I finished packing up my things, and I zipped up my coat.

I wanted to take the subway or, better yet, an Uber, but Snowball needed a very long walk, and I need to save every penny I could.

The tiny white Pomeranian practically vibrated with energy. Her white hair stuck straight out from her in a poof, only her black eyes and nose visible. The shiny rows of needle-sharp teeth let everyone know she was not a cuddly stuffed animal.

The old man who lived below me thumped on his ceiling with a broom handle while Snowball barked her head off.

“Don’t worry. We’re about to be out of your life for good,” I yelled at the floor as I tried to wrestle the tiny dog into her harness.

“Never should have spent all this money on a custom Frosty the Snowman leash,” I grumbled as I stuffed Snowball’s legs through the harness and fastened it.

After hoisting my duffel bag, I let Snowball pull me out the door and down the narrow flight of stairs.

Outside in the cold, it smelled like snow.

Maybe we’d have a white Christmas, though I wasn’t sure that even snow would keep this from being one of the worst Christmases in memory.

Snowball strained at the leash as we began the long walk toward downtown. My feet were numb as the Empire State building loomed closer and closer.

Snowball never let up the pace. She either pulled furiously at the leash, tried to dart into the street to attack a yellow cab, or charged headlong at a pedestrian who dared to get in her personal bubble.

The dog could have walked the hundred blocks back uptown when I finally arrived sweaty and red-faced outside the university hospital.

I hovered outside the large lecture hall, which had a sign on the door for the press conference about the recently completed surgery for the teenage son of a famous hockey star.

The doors opened, and the journalists streamed out. Ducking behind a large plant, I hid there, waiting until my father, white coat over his crisp suit, strode out with his fellow surgeons.

They shook hands and congratulated each other. Then he held up his wrist, looking at his watch in annoyance.

“I’m here!” I darted out from behind the plant.

Snowball flung herself at him, practically hovering in midair as the leash kept her in check.

“Someone who doesn’t have stable employment should not have a dog, Evie,” my father said by way of greeting. “Why don’t you drop her at a rescue society?”

“I know, I know, but I thought I had stable employment,” I explained as I hurried after him. “Besides, I don’t want to get on the naughty list for abandoning a puppy.”

He frowned in confusion.

Sweat pooled under my bra. “You know, it’s a joke because it’s Christmas…”

My father buttoned his suit jacket and grabbed his overcoat from a coat rack in a side alcove.

“Are those all of your things?” he asked, looking pointedly at my overstuffed duffel bag and backpack with Snowball’s toys. “I’m not bringing you back to New York City if you forgot anything.”

“All ready for a festive holiday season!” I chirped.

My dad grunted. His phone rang, and he answered it, talking rapidly in medical jargon as I trotted after him back out into the cold.

He handed the valet his ticket.

Christmas carols filtered softly from hidden speakers outside the medical college.

My stomach growled. I wondered if it would be too much to suggest grabbing a bite to eat before heading to Maplewood Falls.

The cold calm was broken by hip-hop music, the loud bass rattling my teeth as my dad’s Mercedes screeched up in front of the entrance, almost knocking over the valet stand.

The valet sprinted up behind the car.

“Granny Doyle!”

Gran hopped out of the car with more energy in her eighties than I had at twenty-one. She wrapped me in a big hug.

“Merry Christmas, babe! I stopped at that Italian place, Camelli’s. Food’s in the back. Don’t give me that health-food nonsense, Brian,” she warned my dad. “You’ll pry my pasta out of my cold, dead hands. Let’s bounce, kiddo. Traffic is a bitch, and people in this city can’t drive.”

I sank into the deep leather seat behind Gran. Snowball climbed in my lap so she could see who to bark at through the window. The car smelled like cheese, garlic, and fresh bread.

I reached into the bag on the floor and pulled out a piping-hot container.

“Have a cocktail back there for you too, Evie. Heard you got the boot. Figured you’d need it. Let me know if you want me to TP anyone’s house.”

“Give me the keys,” my dad ordered his mother-in-law through the car window.

“Hell no.” Gran put the car in reverse, almost running over the valet.

My father cursed and raced after the car, wrenched open the passenger-side door, and climbed in.

“It’s dangerous for you to drive when you’re tired!” Granny Doyle shouted over the hip-hop music blaring from the speakers as she merged into traffic. “Eat some gnocchi, bro. You’re too high-strung.”

My dad ignored her and turned around in his seat to give me a stern look. “Evie, you need to start taking responsibility for your life. You’re not going to drop out of college, make terrible career choices, then expect you can move back home with your mom and me and take advantage of our hard work.”

The pasta was a rock in my stomach.

Gran flipped off a driver in a Porsche then took a hard left turn. “Don’t worry, Evie. Screw your dad. You can live with me.”

“No, she can’t, because you live with us.” My father was exasperated.

“I’d rather have gone to prison!” Gran shouted, laying on the horn.

“Your grandmother has your and Ian’s old room. You’re in the attic.”

“Just like Kevin McAllister,” I joked.

“Evie, you need to take this seriously. Your mother and I have cut you too much slack over the years.”

Had they?

“After discussing it, your mother and I agreed that you can stay with us only if you replace a job by Christmas. If you do, then you have an additional two weeks. Otherwise, you need to move out.”

“You’re going to throw me out on Christmas? I don’t even have till the end of the year?” I asked in a small voice.

“No one is hiring after Christmas. If you cannot replace a job by the twenty-fifth, then you’re certainly not going to do it by New Year’s Eve. This is tough love, Evie.” My father turned back around in his seat. “Our support of you stops in sixteen days. Plan accordingly.”

Plan how? I didn’t have an icicle’s chance in hell of getting a good-paying job in New York City, not after Braeden and Felicity had spent the last year painting me as some gross sex pest.

I’d been hoping I could at least bum at my parents’ for a few months, doing odd jobs in Maplewood Falls, and save up enough money to pay back people who’d helped keep me limping along last year. Then when the spring hit and tourists started coming, I could replace a job at a cute bed-and-breakfast a la Lorelei Gilmore.

Instead, there was a ticking clock hanging over my head, ominously counting down the days until December twenty-fifth.

Forget having a perfect Christmas—I wasn’t going to have any kind of life without a holiday miracle.