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“Okay.” I take a deep breath, taking command of the emotions churning inside of me so I can get a better grip on the situation. “We have to be calm.”
“Calm?” Jonas snorts. “That’s your grand plan for how we’re going to deal with this?”
“I’d say it’s a better start than freaking out and going into a rage. But then again, maybe that’s how you do things back in Seattle.”
“It’s not how we…” Heaving a sigh, Jonas rubs his forehead. “You’re right. We need to be calm.”
I give him a stern look. “Do we need to do some breathing exercises?”
“I can control myself.”
“Good.” I glance around the office forming a plan.
If we were going to get stuck anywhere in the Noble Outerwear offices, at least we ended up in Mr. Noble’s executive suite. There’s a mini fridge in the corner, which I know his secretary/future wife keeps stocked with bottles of water. There’s also a private restroom, so we don’t have to worry about designating a pee corner if we end up here overnight. Oof. That would be one way to take a bad situation and make it a real nightmare.
“Okay,” I say resolutely. “First things first, we need to find a way to let people know we’re stuck in here.”
“Without working phones?” He scratches the back of his head in agitation. “How do we do that?”
“We make a sign.” I race to the filing cabinet where I know we store reams of paper. “We write one letter to a piece of paper, filling in the letters so they’re thick and can be seen, and we hang them in the window.”
“How are people going to see it? We’re on the fourteenth floor.”
It’s a good point, but we don’t have any other choice. “Maybe someone in the hotel across the street will see it.”
“Maybe we’ll have better luck stomping our feet hoping someone is still in the office below us and calls security.”
I glare at him. “It couldn’t hurt to try, could it?”
He sighs. “You should draw the letters. I’ll color them in. My handwriting sucks.”
We each take a seat at Mr. Noble’s desk. Jonas insists I take his dad’s chair. A seat I’ve imagined filling many times. Though, realistically, even if I became CEO, I’m sure I’d get my own chair. One with better lumbar support.
We work silently, amassing a small pile of letters.
I peek up at him through my eyelashes, grinning when I see he has his lips pursed in concentration.
“So,” I say. “What’s your favorite Christmas movie?”
He glances up. “What?”
“If this doesn’t work, we’ll have a lot of time to kill. I figure we should make some conversation.”
He turns his attention back to his paper. “Muppet Christmas Carol.”
“Oh, I love that one. Michael Caine is a treasure.”
“Yeah.” He fills in more of the block. “What about you?”
“There are so many good ones, let’s see.” I tilt my head to the side. “There’sMiracle on 34th StreetandIt’s a Wonderful Life.”
“Both good classics.”
“But I guess my favorite isElf. The one where Will Farrel—”
“I knowElf.” He gives a light grin. “It’s a good one.”
“Well, my mom knew it was one of my favorites so she always put it in our movie rotation. And one year, to surprise me, she decorated my bedroom the way Buddy decorated his family’s apartment.”
