Page 2 of Witching You Weren't Snowed In
Delia pinned me with a knowing stare. The kind she liked to deliver before dropping a truth bomb. I balled up a cocktail napkin, wondering if there was time to grab my plate and make a dash out of the blast radius. Maybe I could still track down the shrimp guy and drown my doubts in cocktail sauce.
“Admit it, Sage.” Delia lowered her voice to a murmur. “You’re off your game. Last month, you fell asleep while playing matchmaker to a couple of horror buffs on Halloween. You were inside a haunted house. Next to a chainsaw-wielding villain.” She shook her head. “Who does that? There’s so much screaming.”
There had been a lot of screaming. Not that it had helped. One moment I was lying in wait for my targets inside an open coffin, surrounded by waves of magical fog, and the next, lights out. I blamed the dreamlike mist and the oddly comfortable coffin. Delia blamed my constant caseload.
“First off,” I said, glancing at the neighboring table to make sure my coworkers weren’t eavesdropping. “I swore you to secrecy about that case. Second, I wasn’t sleeping. Yes, my eyes were closed for a couple of minutes. But it worked out all right. The chainsaw guy jumped out of the shadows with the assist. My couple will probably invite him to the wedding. They’ll even create a mini chainsaw replica to use as a cake topper. Once I got them inside the haunted house, my participation was supervisory at best.”
I lifted my wineglass and clinked it into her cocktail before taking a confident sip, certain I’d proved my point.
“Okay, then what about the Fourth of July incident?”
The wine went down the wrong way, and I coughed, sending droplets of Merlot onto the white table linen. “We don’t talk about the Fourth of July incident.”
Delia sighed and moved my appetizer plate to hide the wet stain. “Sage, you’re the best agent in our office. Everyone knows that. You give perfection a run for its money. And one day, if upper management ever gives me a shot at my own case, I want to be just like you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Well, like you, but with way more work-life balance. And better dance moves.”
I wrinkled my nose in disgust.Will memories ever fade?
“Speaking of work-life balance, how’s your office crush on Simon Delacour coming along? Have you spoken to him?”
Delia couldn’t resist glancing at the object of her affection holding court by the bar. There were two things she wanted most this Christmas: a promotion to agent, and a date with Simon. Delia’s judgmental fortune teller seemed to think both love and money were in the cards—and I hoped it was—but I still didn’t trust that woman.
Looking away, Delia blushed and bent to sip her cocktail until the ice rattled.
“You mean have I spoken to him outside of my head? No. But the two of us had a very witty exchange that I practiced in front of the bathroom mirror this morning. So it’s only amatter of time until I graduate to mimicking a conversation with the potted plants in the breakroom.”
I stifled a laugh. “You’re a study in emotional growth.”
“At least I have an emotional well! You bury yourself in casework and avoid anything personal. When was the last time you went on a date? And playing a matchmaker for someone else doesn’t count.”
She had me there. But I didn’t have time for dating. Top agents didn’t slow down, they pushed harder. Nose to the grindstone. You’ll sleep when you’re dead—or conveniently inside a haunted house prop.
“I don’t need to find love because I already love my job.” I drained my glass and popped the last scallop into my mouth with a grin.
“That’s gross, Sage. Do you know who also spent all their time working and ended up alone and unloved around the holidays? Scrooge. Let me be a little Ghost of Christmas Present for you and tell you to get a life. Preferably one with some good kissing.”
I faked a gasp and grabbed my purse. “How dare you use Dickens against me? I’m getting us another round before you’re possessed by any more ghosts.”
As I weaved through the crowd toward the bar, other agents paused in their conversations, giving me a thumbs up or a secret smile. This was my year! I could feel it. Once I reached the top, everything else would fall into place, and I’d finally have the life and recognition I’d always wanted.
Delia was being ridiculous. Though, she might be right about the good kissing part—it had been way too long since I’d experienced any of that. But love? No, thank you. I’d leave that to the couples in my case files.
“Excuse me, Ms. Bennett? May I have a moment of your time?”
The no-nonsense question stopped me in my tracks. Joan, from human resources, waited by the nearly empty cheese display.
She wasn’t dressed for the party and still wore her agency badge clipped to the pocket of her fitted blazer. Joan crooked her finger, and my shoulders slumped. Had news of my Halloween nap reached her desk? Getting summoned by human resources after hours was never good.
I nodded and watched longingly as the crowd gathered around the dance floor. They were about to announce this year’s award winner. But instead of following them, Joan clasped her hands together and frowned, waiting until I’d joined her.
“Sage, I realize this is a terrible time to have this discussion, but after today’s events, it couldn’t wait until Monday. It’s come to our attention…”
I tuned out Joan’s voice and watched over her shoulder as the head of the holiday division picked up the microphone. The festive music went silent when she cleared her throat and began her welcome speech. Next came the big announcement. I held my breath as she presented the award.
“And this season’s Agent of the Year award goes to—”