“I think it has something to do with her childhood.”
Keri looks at me, her bright red lips perched to the side. “What do you mean?”
I pick my words carefully. Too many times I’ve said something and the meaning came across differently than I intended. “Well, she’s kind of like the Grinch.”
Keri’s forehead scrunches. “But Sofiya is the sweetest. She loves Christmas more than anyone I know.”
See? “You’re right. She’s the best. I didn’t mean she’s the Grinch because she’s grumpy. More like...” I pause, searching. “They share a similar history.”
She considers this. “I’m not sure I know the Grinch’s backstory. Just that he’s a mean one, he’s a heel, and you don’t want to touch him with a thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole. Oh, and his heart grows three sizes.”
I smile at her. “Well, in the book, no one knows why he has a grudge against Christmas, just that all the carolers and merrymaking and joy are a trigger that sets off his holiday hatred. The movies have attempted to fill in the gap with a tragic tale of an unwanted orphan, abandoned, just wanting to be loved and accepted. Christmas became the symbol of his rejection and loneliness, especially backlit by everyone else’s family celebrations and happiness.”
She taps her fingers on her knee. “Okay, I’m following. Keep going.”
“The Grinch tried to steal everyone’s holiday so they could experience the emptiness he felt growing up, while Sofiya—”
Understanding dawns in Keri’s expression. “Sofiya overcompensates the lack of Christmas joy in her past by rewarding those who can fill that void.” She leans in, whispering even though we are the only two people in the stairwell. “Do you think she even knows she’s doing it?”
Maybe other bosses manipulated their employees for personal reasons, but not Sofiya. “She’s probably operating on a subconscious level.”
“Are you going to talk to her about it?”
That doesn’t deserve a response. I give Keri a look I know she can decipher.
“Right. Awkward conversations. What was I thinking?”
Keri doesn’t get it because she has no problem talking to anyone. Meanwhile I’d rather spend three hours Googling the answer to a question than three minutes on the phone asking the same question.
“I think I’ll just bow out. Jeremy deserves the promotion, plus he’ll do a better job than I would. The position requires leadership skills and direct communication with our clients. I’d probably lose the company more accounts than anything. You know how I am.”
Keri lays a hand on my arm. “Mackenzie, you can’t quit.”
“Not quit, just not jump through Sofiya’s hoops.”
“You might not have a choice.” She holds my gaze, her eyes round and soft. She reaches into a deep side pocket, pulling out an envelope, which she gives me.
I look down at the white rectangle in my hand, recognizing the return address immediately as Heritage Hills. My palms grow sweaty, and I fumble with the seal.
“I checked the mail slot this morning before we left,” Keri explains, “but I didn’t want any bad news to cloud your head before your meeting, so I held on to it.”
I flip open the paper and read, my stomach dropping. “Herinsurance won’t cover as much as I hoped. Keri, I can’t afford my mom’s care.”
She squeezes my arm. “You can if you get the promotion. It comes with a significant raise. I saw the budget proposal myself.”
I sigh as my heart plummets. Whether I like it or not, I have no choice but to play Sofiya’s reindeer games.
2
Keri and I make our way back into the busy workspace of Limitless Designs. The graphic design firm takes up the entire ninth floor, but that sounds more impressive than it is, considering the size of the building. Every business renting space has an entire floor to themselves. It’s industrial style, with exposed ductwork and polished cement floors. Very modern and open. Besides Sofiya’s office and a conference room, the whole place is one big open space.
The smell of fresh coffee hangs in the air, and I almost make a beeline to the large carafe percolating on the counter of the corner break area. But the acid in coffee will kill my stomach. Still, there’s tea.
I stall when Jeremy lifts his head out of the refrigerator, a carton of half-and-half in his hand. I duck my chin to my chest and pivot on my heel. I haven’t recovered from my last run-in with him, and I need some time alone to process everything the day has brought.
My feet shuffle to my chair, second to last on the left on our long communal desk that supports six computers and minimal workspace. I lift my noise-canceling Bose headphones—a splurgefor some but just as essential a work tool for me as a #2 pencil is for a teacher.
“Mackenzie, can I see you again for a moment, please?” Sofiya stands in the doorway to her office, her hands folded primly.
