They sat staring at the tree, at the glowing lights and the golden angel.
“You must be very excited to know all about your trip, Dina,” Veronique said.
Dina nodded. “Yes, I am. Part of me is still a little skeptical…I mean, you read about so many crazy things happening to people these days.”
“Dina, please be assured that no one will harm you or take advantage of you in any way. To help reassure you about that, there will be a security agent near us at all times—several, taking shifts of course, but we will most likely never see them. I do not know myself who they are, but it is comforting to know that someone will be watching over us, just in case. I realize all this may be hard to believe, Dina, but this Christmas gift is simply that: a gift freely given to you, with only your enjoyment as its goal.”
“I suppose you can’t tell me who hired you, and who has given me this gift?”
“No, Dina, I cannot,” Veronique said, warmly. “But I can tell you that on Wednesday morning at 7am, we will be leaving for the Colorado Springs Airport. We will board a private jet that will take us to New York’s Kennedy Airport. We will then board a commercial flight and fly first class directly to Paris. We will arrive in Paris the morning of December 15th.”
Dina stared dreamily, still unable to believe what she was hearing. “Is that where you’re from, Veronique? Paris?”
“No, Dina, I was born in a town you’ve probably never heard of, Montauban, in southern France. It’s a lovely town that lies on the right bank of the Tarn River, and it’s built mostly of reddish brick. It is a town of beautiful art and history. You should visit someday.”
“Do your parents live there?”
“Just my father and my sister. My mother passed some years ago.”
Veronique reached into her purse and took out a letter-sized envelope. “Now, let us return to your vacation,” she said, standing and crossing to Dina. She handed over the envelope, and Dina removed the typed pages.
“That is your itinerary, Dina, listing the timeline and the 5-star hotels in Paris, Rome and New York. As you will see, our first hotel will be Hotel d’Aubusson, a boutique hotel on the Left Bank of Paris. I think you will find it lovely, charming and comfortable. As I said, we’ll arrive in Paris on the morning of Wednesday, December 15th and remain in Paris until Sunday, December 18th, when we will fly to Rome, in First Class, where you will stay at the Grand Hotel Palace, another five-star hotel. We will be in Rome for only two days, and then we will fly to New York, where we will spend the remainder of our time, Wednesday the 21st, Thursday the 22nd and Friday the 23rd. You will arrive back in Pine Village, Colorado by late morning on December 24th, Christmas Eve.”
Dina studied the typed itinerary, her eyes filling with captivated wonder.
“What should I pack? I mean, what kind of clothes?” Dina asked, overwhelmed, glancing up from the page with concern.
Veronique made a little wave of her hand. “Don’t worry about that right now, Dina. Just pack the clothes you feel the most comfortable wearing. When we arrive in Paris we can purchase whatever we need. We will do more shopping in Rome and New York. When we are finished wearing them, we will simply ship everything home, no problem.”
Dina swung her hesitant stare toward Veronique as she returned to the couch and sat. “Have you done this kind of thing before? Do you do this often?”
Veronique reached for her coffee, took a sip and lowered her eyes, smiling ruefully. “I apologize, Dina. I cannot answer your questions, or any questions like these. I can say that I have traveled to each of these cities and I know them, especially Paris, very well.”
“Will I ever know who my Santa Claus is?” Dina asked, with a hint of a hopeful smile.
Veronique met Dina’s eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t answer that either, Dina. I simply don’t know the answer.”
Veronique set her mug down and stood. “I must go now and make some final preparations for our trip, unless you have any other questions?”
“How much money should I bring?” Dina said, rising.
“None at all. You’ll be given a credit card, as well as cash, as the contract states, up to ten thousand dollars per day.”
“And my cell phone? Can I take it with me?”
“Of course. The hotels all have Wi-Fi and I’ve already purchase a SIM card.”
“What is a SIM Card?”
“It’s the chip that goes in the phone, giving you service. We’ll install it in your phone or tablet. You can use your phone to contact friends and family back home whenever and wherever you wish. We want you to feel comfortable at all times.”
Dina shrugged. “Okay, then. I guess I’m ready.”
“Good. You will have a lovely time, Dina, I’m sure of it. Have you ever been to Europe?”
“No, never.”
“Then you are going to have so much fun. There is so much to see and do in Paris, Rome and New York. I hope we’ll become good friends, Dina,” Veronique said, with an outstretched hand.
Dina took it. “I’m sure we will, Veronique. Thank you for everything.”
“It is my pleasure.”
Dina watched Veronique leave her apartment, stroll along the cement walkway and climb into an emerald green Prius, with Colorado plates, and drive away.
Her head reeling, Dina turned and stared at her Christmas tree, joyously, like it was some perfect work of art she’d created out of chaos. She lifted her eyes toward the angel.
“You will eventually let me know who this Santa Claus person is, won’t you?”
The golden-haired angel in its flowing, white robe had wise, blue eyes fixed straight ahead. In her own imagination, Dina closed her eyes and willed the angel to nod.
“Thank you,” Dina said, aloud.
CHAPTER 6
On Wednesday morning, December 14th, Paul Michael Alexander sat behind his tidy designer desk in his spacious 64th floor Manhattan office, quietly drumming his fingers on the desktop. His thoughts were muddled and wandering. The laptop before him waited for a response to many emails, none of which he’d addressed nor even read.
He stretched the cramped muscles of his shoulders, stood up and turned pensively to gaze out through the wide wall of windows that presented a breath-taking view of open gray sky and the towers of lower Manhattan and distant New Jersey, which lay across the flat silvery Hudson River.
With his hands locked behind his back, he watched snow flurries blur the lofty Manhattan office towers which rose up all around him. His company, Imperium, of which he was the president and CEO, was an international cyber security company, occupying the top three floors of the office tower of which he was also part owner.
Paul had worked hard to get where he was. He had made the right choices and the right connections, and he’d been lucky when he needed to be lucky. He was wealthy, beyond his wildest dreams.
Recently, at a cocktail party in San Francisco, an attractive woman of renown in the entertainment business had said he was “...very fortunate. You have looks, health, a thriving career, and you must have more money than you could ever spend in two lifetimes.”
She’d overtly propositioned him. Magazines gushed about her beauty and incomparable acting style. She had been in movies and on talk shows; she’d won awards, but Paul did not find her particularly attractive or appealing. During the course of the party, he’d observed that mirrors were her lovers, while fashion and too many martinis were her weaknesses. He was not often so critical, but there was something about the woman that had left him cold and a bit depressed. He’d told her a lie. He’d said he was seeing someone. In truth, he was not, and he hadn’t been out with a woman in months.
The actress had left the party with her husband, also a well-known Hollywood actor, turning back with a final flirtatious glance.
On this snowy December day, Paul was in a mood—a reflective mood. Below were the busy streets, with the toot of green and yellow taxis, and the splendid limos, and the bicyclers. Down there were coffee bars, street cart vendo
rs, rumbling subways and the huddled marching crowds, streaming off to work, shouldering through a sprinkling of snow and a blowing, wheezing wind.
Paul took in the sprawling and majestic New York City skyline, as a gray ghost of a sun rose over New Jersey. He watched as it was increasingly obscured by heavy rolling snow clouds, bringing the promise of five-to-six inches of predicted snow.
“Will there be anything else, Mr. Alexander?” A female voice sounded from behind. Startled from his thoughts, Paul glanced around.
“No, Charlotte. No, I don’t think so. Not now. Thank you.”
Charlotte Post, a middle-aged secretary who had height, ability and poise, nodded and left the wide, richly carpeted room, closing the door softly behind her. Paul had completely forgotten that she was there.
Once more, Paul faced the wraparound windows. Paul loved the City, with its eccentric people—its fascinating culture and history—its restless spirit and loud, animated streets. New York City was authentic, edgy and challenging. In this City, you mixed, risked, and labored—and you either soared or you crashed, because that’s just the way the City was. But it also had charm, compassion, and a sense of community, a unique thing for one of the largest international and fiercely economical cities in the world.
In his 36 years, Paul had lived eight years in New York’s melting pot, seasoned with triumph, defeat, sweat, desire, love and hate. It was only recently that he’d begun to feel an inner restlessness, a dissatisfaction, a nudge to reach out for something else. What that something else was, he didn’t quite know, and that bothered him. It bothered him a lot.
It wasn’t like him to feel this way, and it made him irritable and edgy. He didn’t become a successful, wealthy man by having a distracted, preoccupied mind. But lately, he had been distracted. He had been discontent. He had been uninterested in the old ambitions, as they seemed now. Old demons began lifting their heads, and he didn’t want to face them.
Since his wife’s death, eight years ago, he’d worked hard, throwing himself into his work with a fierce, relentless passion that had surprised even him. He’d slept only four or five hours a night. He’d traveled the world, expanding his businesses, buying and selling companies, working to blot out the memory of the past—the tragic past—and although he was not a dramatic man, tragic was the correct word.
It seemed to him now that in the last few years, he’d been skimming across the surface of life, not really seeing or feeling or enjoying anything or anyone. He had made a fortune, that was true, and his entire energy and focus had served him well in that regard, but now that he’d succeeded far beyond what he could have ever imagined, he felt an aching, empty sadness. Okay, so the old story was true: wealth alone doesn’t make one happy. Okay, but why was he suddenly feeling this throbbing loneliness now, this hollow feeling of growing isolation?
One of Paul’s three cell phones rang and he flinched. He wheeled toward his wide modern desk and picked up his private phone.
“Is that you, Clark?”
“Yes, Mr. Alexander. Are you available? You said you wanted daily personal reports. I couldn’t reach you yesterday. I did leave a message.”
“I was in meetings all day in Montreal,” Paul said, his voice taut with tension. “I couldn’t get away from the damned things, even though I tried to several times. Anyway, forgive me, Clark. Go ahead. I seem to be rambling this morning.”
“Did you receive Miss Lee’s signed contract, sir?”
“Yes, Clark, I did.”
“Very good. This being Wednesday, Veronique picked up Miss Lee this morning and, right now, they are in the corporate jet on their way to Kennedy International.”
Paul’s voice brightened and he straightened up. “Excellent, Clark. No speed bumps? Everything proceeding according to plan?”
“Yes, sir. Oh, except for the restaurant manager, Mr. Charlie Taylor. Unfortunately, he contacted me with the request for additional money.”
Paul sighed. “How much?”
“Two thousand.”
“Two thousand wasn’t enough, huh?”
“Apparently not, sir. He seems to be a kind of opportunist. He said he had lost his best waitress, and that would cause him a lot of stress.”
“Yes, well, I don’t doubt that, considering his poor management style and Miss Lee’s exceptional abilities. Okay, meet with my attorney there, have him draw up a contract to ensure that our good Mr. Taylor doesn’t bleed us for any additional funds. Make sure Taylor signs it, and that he distinctly understands that this will be his final payment. Please let him know that if he asks for more, he’ll be prosecuted.”
“Yes, sir. I will make that clear to him.”
“Clark, any word from Veronique about Dina Lee?”
“Just that the young woman was very nervous and excited as they climbed aboard the private jet.”
Paul smiled. “Good. Very good, Clark. Thank you.”
“Will there be anything else, sir?”
“…Yes… Clark, have you had time to do any Christmas shopping yet?”
There was a pause. Clark was gently taken aback by the unusual question from his boss. “I am behind, sir. But I have ideas, and I’m going to try to shop online this year.”
“Take some time and go shopping, Clark, and enjoy yourself. I’m sending you a bonus. Thank you for a job well done, as usual.”
“Thank you, Mr. Alexander. If I may ask, sir, do you wish me to return to New York? Will you be needing me?”
“Interesting you should ask, Clark. I’ve been thinking. Well… I’ve been kicking around the idea of taking a little vacation, you know getting away for a few days, and traveling to Europe. I haven’t been on a vacation in years.”
“Will you need me to travel with you, sir?”
“No, Clark. I’m not going to pull you away from your family during the holidays, like I did last year and the year before. No, this year I want you to spend Christmas with your family.”
“Thank you, sir. Perhaps a real vacation, and not a working one, will do you good. It has been a very busy year.”
There was another pause.
“Are you still there, Mr. Alexander?”
“Yes, Clark, I’m here. Clark, how long have you worked for me?”
“Almost eight years, sir.”
“That long? How are your daughter and son?”
“They are all well, sir, thank you. Are you quite all right, sir? If you don’t mind me saying so, your voice sounds rather distant.”
“Clark…forgive how this sounds, but do you think the Christmas vacation I’ve arranged for Miss Lee is, I don’t know, a little bit foolish?”
“Well, sir, it’s not for me to say.”
“Drop the sir, Clark. You’re my best employee—and you’re more to me than just an employee, Clark. I trust your opinions, and I know you have a daughter who is about Ms. Lee’s age.”
“Mr. Alexander, I believe that what you have done for the young lady is both generous and kind. I observed Miss Lee to be a lovely young woman, and fully deserving of your remarkable Christmas gift.”
“I’m not an impulsive man, Clark, but I just had the sudden and inexplicable impulse to do it…to send her off like that. I don’t know why I did it, really. I don’t quite know what to make of it.”
“Well, I’m sure Miss Lee will never forget your unique generosity, sir. The memories will stay with her for as long as she lives.”
“Yes, well, thank you, Clark. Go home to your family and enjoy the holidays.”
“I will, sir. Thank you. And I hope you’ll think seriously about taking that vacation. If I may add something, Mr. Alexander. Something a bit personal?”
“Of course, Clark. Speak freely.”
Clark cleared his throat. “Well, sir, wouldn’t it be fun to observe the young lady’s adventure in person, to see her reactions and experience her discoveries?”
Another silence.
“You know me too well, don’t you, Clark? Was I so obvious?”
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“It’s just a suggestion,” Clark added, modestly. “Since you are thinking of taking a vacation anyway.”
“But what about the contract? I specifically stated that she wouldn’t be approached or disturbed or confronted.”
“You could always remain anonymous, Mr. Alexander. I have observed over the years that you are quite skilled and talented in such matters.”
“Clark, I’m not only going to give you a bonus, I’m also going to raise your salary.”
“If you wish, sir, but it’s not necessary.”
“Yes, it is necessary. Clark, your British ability for observation and subtle communication astounds me.”
“I do my best, sir.”
“One last thing, Clark. When you met Dina Lee, did you notice how attractive her smile was… I mean, how genuine and warm it was? Did you notice that? I thought it was exceptional. I know how…well how strange that sounds, but did you notice her smile?”
“I did indeed, sir. I believe she does have a certain glow about her when she smiles, and a kind of girlish innocence, if I may say so.”
“Yes… Yes, I thought so as well.”
Paul had shut his eyes, and while he was listening to Clark, he had formed a clear image of Dina in his mind.
“Will you be needing anything else, Mr. Alexander?”
Paul snapped out of his misty daydream and his eyes popped open. “No, Clark. No…You have a great holiday, and I’ll see you after Christmas, on the 26th.”
“Thank you, sir, and you enjoy your vacation.”
“I haven’t decided yet, Clark,” Paul said quickly. “Besides, I have a lot of meetings in the next couple of days. New clients and potential new investments. It would be hard to get away, like it always is.”
“Time does slip away, Mr. Alexander, and before you know it, it’s gone. Merry Christmas, sir.”
After he’d hung up with Clark, Paul paced his office, feeling like a caged lion. Calls came in but he ignored his phones or told Charlotte to take messages. He cancelled all his morning meetings and asked Charlotte to check on flights to Paris, and to give him time and options. He paced, he drank coffee, and he imagined and he speculated.
The Date Before Christmas: A Novel Page 6