He could only blame himself for that one. After Nate’s hockey game and the kids falling asleep, he’d gotten to thinking. He didn’t know a plié from a relevé, so he’d done what he always did—a little internet research. He’d by no means learned enough to join a dance group, but he now knew a few basic terms and what they meant. He’d even watched a couple of the dances fromThe Nutcracker. The choreography in every one of those dances was beyond him, except perhaps the little children’s roles of tiptoeing mice. That, however, wouldn’t make the cut. Even he knew that.
But his small dive into the world of dance had led him to the question of wardrobe. Jill had saidthe whole nine yards and nothing less. His pressed Dockers and oxford button-ups wouldn’t work while he attempted to arabesque and chassé around the communal desks.
Was dance a sport? That niggling question sent him to the Dick’s Sporting Goods website, which confirmed what he’d suspected—a regular sports store didn’t sell ballet equipment. If it was even called equipment.
They did, however, sell men’s compression pants, which appeared an awful lot like the tights or leotards or whatever male ballet dancers wore.
Those things looked tight. Hence the name, but seriously, they were like a very thin layer of second skin. They conformed to every line and curve of the model’s body.Everycurve. Jeremy would gladly put on a tutu just for a bit of modesty.
He was about to text Jill that there was no way he’d show that much of himself—yes, everything was covered, but everything was also still on display—when she’d beaten him to the punch and texted that she’d gotten what they needed—music and wardrobe—and she’d bring it by Limitless Designs around ten in the morning.
Was this how Mackenzie had felt before the presentation?No wonder she’d looked and acted so uncomfortable. Did she have to deal with this feeling all the time? How did she manage?
Minute by minute, he supposed. Which was what he’d have to do. He might as well get upstairs and keep himself busy for the next couple of hours. Maybe that way he could avoid dwelling on what he was about to do, then just do it and get it over with.
His dad’s turntable lay heavy in his arms as he rode the elevator up to the ninth floor, a canvas bag of albums slung over his shoulder. He was interested to see what songs and artists his coworkers chose. He’d almost bet money on Keri wanting to listen to Bing Crosby and Old Blue Eyes. Annabelle struck him as a Bublé fan. Derek would probably go for the fun kids’ classics like John Denver and the Muppets.
The elevator doors slid open, and he stepped out. As he walked over to the tree to set down the record player, he noticed the Mary and Joseph statues from the Nativity hiding under Rosa’s chair. Either they were lost, had taken a detour, or directions didn’t matter, because they were farther away from “Bethlehem” than they had been the day before. But he imagined Rosa would be happy simply because of the pleasant memories her family tradition brought her and not even think of the logical fallacy in the direction of movement.
He set up the turntable, plugging it into an outlet. He pulled out a random record from the bag—Handel’sMessiah—and loaded it onto the player. Orchestra music filled the air. Heads turned in his direction.
“I thought it would be fun to listen to Christmas music. Feel free to peruse the albums and make your own selections.”
“What a great idea.” Sofiya set down her coffee mug and walked over. “I haven’t listened to music on vinyl in ages.”
Jeremy left her exclaiming over a Beach Boys album. Go figure.
Lincoln intercepted him on his way to his work area. “My wife had a particularly evil glint in her eye when I left the house this morning.”
“Did you see what she expects us to wear?” Jeremy whispered, glancing left then right to make sure no other coworkers were within earshot.
“She slapped my hand when I tried to peek inside her bags.”
“I brought basketball shorts. Just in case.”
Lincoln’s eyes widened. “That’s smart. I might have a pair in my trunk from the last time I went to the gym.”
“I mean, I’ll humiliate myself because we both kind of deserve it, but I draw the line at doing something that will require a talk with HR.”
“Word.”
Jeremy continued down the line of the back bank of office chairs while Lincoln went to the front. A second later, twin gasps shot through the tenor singing “Comfort Ye, My People.”
His workstation had been the victim of a festive TPing. Except instead of toilet paper, green and red crepe paper streamers had been used to wrap, crisscross, swag, and all manner of drape until not an inch of his desk was visible. And his chair. His chair had been wrapped in Buddy the Elf wrapping paper and shackled to the table by layers of streamers. Will Ferrell looked up at him with a crazed expression on his face. Jeremy could almost hear him yellingI love youthree times in increasing volume and speed.
Lincoln’s deep laugh interrupted the violin strains coming from the turntable. “Mackenzie, I can’t believe you did this.” He took out his cell phone and snapped some pictures of his vandalized desk.
Mackenzie gave a shy smile and shrugged a shoulder. “It was fun. Your whole family sounds as impish as you are.”
He laughed again. “You have no idea.”
So, the Christmas fairy had struck again. And closer to home.
“You too, Lincoln? I thought we were friends, man. You gave up secrets to the enemy, and now she’s used them against me.” Jeremy winked at Mackenzie so she’d know he was only messing around. He wasn’t really upset about the state of his desk or thatLincoln had spilled his own holiday memories and she’d used them in their race to the top.
Her cheeks flushed, and she ducked her head. Man, he liked her reactions to him. It made him want to tease and flirt to see just how red he could make her skin flush. Not that he would, but the thought was fun to ponder.
“I honestly don’t even know how she found out. I was telling Derek yesterday—” Lincoln cut himself off and swung around to face Mackenzie. “I see you and your superpowers of observation as well as stealth listening skills.”
