3 Executive Sick Days

by Maria E. Schneider

  "Works the same, minus the perfume thing," he muttered.

  It was my turn to try and keep food in my mouth. "She grabbed you, and did the rubbing thing? That is pathetic! Disgusting!"

  "You're telling me? She came down to the basement, pretending she had a question. She tripped," he made little quote marks with his fingers, "and sat in my lap!!! What am I gonna do?"

  Since marrying me wasn't the answer, I didn't remind him of that idea. There was no point in going to human resources either. He'd be laughed out of their office. Those people didn't take it seriously when a dainty, defenseless female complained that the big bad wolf was at the door. What would they say if Radar walked in and complained? Oh, that was not a good resolution, not at all.

  "Does the lab door lock?" I asked.

  He glared at me. "Yeah. But it's supposed to remain unlocked during work hours. She has come down there several times to check. Mostly I get a call to come and look at some problem machine, which I'm not even supposed to do. I was hired as a contractor, and Huntington told me no one would even know I was working in IT. Somehow people found out and they call downstairs and ask for help. After I go up to look at a problem, she shows up like she knew about the call ahead of time."

  "Ohboy." He was right. It was exactly the same as when a guy harassed a woman. You never knew where they would be lurking, but like a roach, when you least wanted them around, they popped out of the woodwork. "You're going to have to do something really mean," I said. "Something that hits where it hurts so that she'll leave you alone."

  "How about pointing out that I don't like women who can bench press more than I can?"

  "Not bad. But you have to find a way to say it so that it really digs. You have to make sure she knows that she isn't woman enough for you. Not successful enough, doesn't make enough money, too much of a loser." Given Radar's brains, I added, "She's not smart enough for you, and you have to prove that. She has to be so insulted around you, she stops trying to, ah, you know."

  "And how do you propose I go about doing that?"

  The how was a lot more difficult than identifying the problem. I considered what little we knew about her. "She's obviously pretty hung up on her personal appearance. And Crissa told me that she's very interested in getting married."

  He looked frantic, so I went with idea number one. "You should make the mistake of assuming that she's fat, not muscular and tell her you don't like fat women." He grabbed his tea like a lifeline and shook his head in disbelief. He was either worried about getting decked by Attila or the thought of telling a woman she was fat was out of reach.

  There was no easy solution. We finished our meal in silence. As we left the restaurant, Mrs. Chang reminded us that she wouldn't be open for Christmas. That reminded me that I was supposed to have brought Radar some cookies for Christmas.

  "Oh hey, I'm baking cookies for Christmas, but they're going to be late. I'm scheduled to work on Christmas Eve and Christmas. So if it's okay, can I bring them in Monday?"

  "Cookies? Tomorrow, Monday through Sunday, January through December, whenever." The thought seemed to cheer him greatly.

  "You don't have any family in town, do you?"

  "No, but I'm leaving for San Jose tomorrow morning. Oh. I won't be back until Monday."

  That was precisely why I had asked. "Okay, Monday." I had two batches in my freezer so all I had to do was make another batch or two and bake like a maniac.

  "Listen, Radar." I hesitated to give him advice, but who else would do it? "I guarantee that Attila doesn't see herself the way you do. None of the men who pester women think of themselves as jerks. They think they're awesome studs. They're freaks who think women enjoy some sort of hunter and hunted game, or they flat out don't care. The ones who don't care are the really dangerous ones."

  He gave me a side glance that told me I might be the freak.

  "Seriously. You have to take the power away from her. If you try to be gentle about it, it's going to fail." It was easy for me to think of ways to make a guy keep his distance, but Attila was a different story. She would keep score, just like a man would, but she was also quite capable of smashing prey that dared to defy her.

  I didn't envy Radar and his problem. All I had to deal with was overbearing doctors and a few weird personalities, heavy on the weird.

  Back upstairs, the call lights blinked like a Christmas tree gone mad. The first one I answered was Mrs. Starksy. The poor thing had saved her cookies again, and Dr. Burns had nabbed them on his rounds. Maybe I should bring her some cookies and disguise them as...well, that probably wouldn't be too appetizing.

  It took me almost an hour to get the rest of the lights to stay off. I took sheets to the laundry and finished making up some beds. With only a few minutes left on my regular shift, I checked the fridge. Sure enough, my "lab specimen" label had worked. I sighed. Too bad I hadn't actually needed my lunch today. Maybe if I'd left the bag unlabeled, Mrs. Starksy's cookies wouldn't have been stolen.

  Then again, Dr. Burns didn't seem likely to pass up any available snack.

  Chapter 13

  It snowed overnight, but Wednesday morning dawned cold and clear. Colorado was a beautiful place, even covered in snow. I didn't love snow, but if I was going to be in a nice heated vehicle, I could enjoy the view.

  Mark showed up at nine driving his gray Lexus SUV.

  "Nice wheels." I remembered the SUV from Thanksgiving.

  He grinned. "This one is mine. The others I drive are Steve's. He keeps a few on hand."

  I had noticed. Huntington rarely showed up in the same vehicle twice. I knew very little about cars, except that this one was a hybrid. It was sleek even with snow tires.

  I climbed in and handed him his Christmas present. There was more than a little red in my cheeks, and it wasn't from the cold. "Merry Christmas," I mumbled, making a big play of studying the fancy navigation system and brushed aluminum accents. He smiled down at my package so I added, "It's nowhere near as great as this awesome leather jacket." I was wearing my new jacket, but then, I hadn't stopped wearing it since he left it for me. I don’t know how I knew it was Mark who had left me the jacket, but I knew.

  "It looks good on you."

  He peeled back the paper from the framed photo I had purchased. A sudden urge to babble nearly overwhelmed me, but I clamped my lips closed and stared at the dash.

  The picture was a forested setting that promised hope and an adventure, yet there was an air of peace about it. The frame was natural wood, light with a dark grain running through it. Something about the jagged lines reminded me of lightning--and Mark.

  When he didn't say anything, I peeked over at him. He was staring at the picture in amazement, his eyes wide.

  The picture was nice, but he looked inappropriately stunned, as though he had never seen a decent photo before. "You don't like photographs?"

  He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "No. I mean yeah, I do. This is great. It's…" He looked at me. "Really nice. Did you take it?"

  "No. I saw it in a little shop, and it looked like a gorgeous place to hike. I love the springtime because it gets warm again and everything is so beautiful."

  His looked down at the picture again.

  Maybe he thought it was a strange present. I hadn't known what to get him.

  "It's really nice." He leaned over and grazed my lips. "Merry Christmas."

  I couldn't breathe quite right so I just nodded. He glanced at the picture one more time, and then set it on the back seat before starting the car.

  We took highway eighty-two out of town and drove for a long while. He took one or two of the county roads, stopping once to put chains on.

  By the time we were deep in the forest boundary, I was totally sold and enjoying myself. From the top of a rise, I could see almost as much horizon as my one helicopter ride. "This is incredible."

  "Haven't you ever been here? It's something to see in the spring and summer."

  I shook my head and drank in t
he view.

  "It's one of my favorite areas," he said.

  Near the top of the mountain, he pulled onto a forest road almost completely obscured by all the snow. Before we went too far, he pulled off to the side and drove the SUV around in a large circle, packing the snow enough that we could get out without trouble. "Come on, I brought snow shoes."

  I stopped partway out of the truck. Uh-oh. That would be the part of snow that I didn't like. I could walk forever on dry land, but put me in snowshoes or on skis, and I was like the cartoon where the guy ran into a tree and came out cut in half on the other side.

  "Uh..."

  Mark didn't notice my discomfort. He handed me a pair of flat shoes and went back to get another pair.

  I stared at them, but they didn't disappear.

  Rats.

  I put them down and gave it my best shot, but while strapping on the first shoe, I fell over.

  Mark smiled and leaned over to pull me up. I almost took us both down.

  "You ever done this before?"

  "Once," I replied tersely. He let me go. I over-corrected, my arms windmilling.

  "Hey!" He grabbed my arms and held me still. "Stop. Just stop. No wobbling. Don't try to move or bend or breathe."

  I held my breath. Miraculously, I stopped swaying.

  "Okay, I'm gonna let go of you, and you just stand there."

  He did. I did.

  "Good," he grinned. "Do you think you can pick up a leg?"

  I shook my head, mutely miserable. It would have been better had we gone skiing. I could at least point skis downhill and outrun anyone who might be watching. Since I couldn't stop reliably, if I beat the competition down, I could crash without any witnesses.

  "You don't know how to do this at all, do you?"

  I hung my head, completely humiliated. Little tears from the cold pricked my eyelids. "Let's get this over with." No doubt it would turn out like all my previous athletic dates, an embarrassing disaster.

  "Here's a better idea." Mark leaned over and unhooked the straps. He then proceeded to lift me up and set me down on the hood of the Lexus. It was nice and warm. "Hungry? I brought lunch." It was kind of early, but I wasn't about to turn the offer down. Anything to keep me off the walking tennis rackets.

  He went around the back in his snowshoes without any trouble. While he didn't look graceful, he looked better than I was ever going to.

  "Got some fried chicken at the grocery and potato salad." After he took supplies out of the back and set it on the ground on top of a blue cooler, he moved me from the hood to the back. He pulled out sodas.

  Food I could do. The chicken was cold, but absolutely wonderful. We sat for a while and stuffed our faces. It was never too early or too late to eat.

  "I should have asked if you like snowshoeing," he finally said, licking his fingers.

  I shrugged. "I'd have come anyway."

  "Yeah?" He looked at me with what was probably supposed to be an evil leer, but it was really just a sexy, come-hither smile.

  "It's a nice day," I pointed out. And so his ego wouldn't get too big, I added, "I would have told myself I could learn or something."

  He laughed. "And can you?"

  I made a face. "I doubt it. It was looking pretty hopeless there, don't you think?"

  He finished his soda and collected the remains of lunch. "I bet we can figure something out."

  With food in my stomach and feeling more comfortable with Mark, I had no choice but to try. If he wanted a graceful, athletic girlfriend, well, maybe he'd better ask Crissa out. Or Attila. I bet she could not only snowshoe, she could probably win a race in the things, especially if a rich doctor was the grand prize.

  Mark helped me strap the shoes on this time. I didn't try to move. Not moving wasn't necessarily good because I was standing by the tailgate, and it was going to be hard for Mark to close the back door unless I moved.

  "Okay," he said. "If the snow isn't powder, you just slide your foot ahead like you're on skis. Only you have to pick your feet up a little, sort of like you're waltzing. Glide forward."

  It looked easy when he did it. I watched his hands mimic the glide, and then tried the motion. I didn't fall over right away so I took another tentative "glide."

  "That's it!" He shut the door, walking around like he had been born in the things. "Besides, what I want to show you isn't that far."

  It had better not be. I wasn't likely to last very long. He stood next to me, and we edged forward. If I leaned slightly forward, my balance was better. The snow where he hadn't driven wasn't packed. I eyed the first drift distrustfully.

  "Now you're going to have to pick your feet up higher."

  "Yeah." I studied the problem. Something always seemed to go wrong when I lifted my foot because the back of my shoe wasn't connected to the tennis racket and then the thing swayed down and before I knew it I was tangled. I watched Mark stomp around athletically.

  "Here." He stood in front of me off to the side. "Just take one giant stride. Like you're going up stairs, but stepping over something in the way."

  "But the back of the shoe falls down."

  "Just ignore that. You let it drag as you move your foot forward."

  The first step nearly capsized me. With one hand on a tree and the other in a drift, I asked, "You're going to dig me out when I'm buried, right?"

  I dared take my eyes off the evil snow and found he was laughing at me.

  "Sedona, I swear! Just walk in the things. This isn't a life or death matter."

  "Says you. I could die in one of these drifts." Or die from embarrassment.

  "I'll dig you out," he promised, still laughing.

  Resolutely, I started walking. Stomping. Gliding.

  Eventually, two falls later, my lips clamped against the cold and a couple of whimpers, I made it to an overlook.

  "Was it worth it?" Mark asked, breathing hard himself.

  It was God's beautiful country, and it was breathtaking. The trees were decorated in ice and snow, and the valley below was carpeted in white. The view looked vaguely familiar, but I'd definitely remember if I had stood on this precipice in such a crisp breeze with this spectacular a view. I cherished the heat stored up inside my jacket from the brief but strenuous hike. I felt alive...clumsy and exhilarated at the same time.

  "I was planning on coming here today even before you gave me the picture," Mark said.

  I started to ask what he meant, but then...There were no flowers or green grass…no wonder it seemed familiar! "Oh my gosh!" The scene was exactly the same as in the photograph, only the season was winter now instead of spring.

  I looked up at him and he smiled, his cream-coffee eyes drowning me. It was probably really hard to put an arm around someone with snowshoes on, especially when she was wobbling, but he managed it.

  "I was going to bring lunch out here."

  My gaze snapped back to the view. "That would have worked if you didn't need me to help carry it."

  He squeezed me in a half hug. "I had been hoping you could carry the sodas." There was laughter and teasing in his voice.

  "That would have been a disaster."

  "Probably."

  Since he didn't seem to be done teasing me, I asked plaintively, "If I can't make it back are you going to leave me here?"

  He didn't say anything for a while. He looked pensively across the valley below us. "You fit here. Kind of untamed and beautiful, like the spring flowers in the photograph. You have to take a photo and leave the flowers undisturbed because they belong to the wilderness, but you want to take them home because they're too beautiful to be left in the wild."

  I was afraid to look up, but afraid not to. It was simply the nicest thing anyone had ever said to me. Since I couldn't risk hugging him without toppling over, I tilted my head onto his shoulder and pressed hard.

  He must have understood the gesture because he moved his hand a bit, letting me lean into him.

  We stayed that way for a long time with nothing dist
urbing the quiet except for the occasional bit of ice or snow falling. There were little movements by a bird and in the valley, I glimpsed a coyote or maybe a fox. I don't know how long we stood there, but I resented the chill creeping across my legs, because it meant the moment was destined to end.

  Mark squeezed my shoulders and pointed to the crown of a tree below us. "See the hawk? Halfway down, to our right."

  My eyes searched the landscape and quickly spotted the bird as it beat its wings for balance on the end of a branch. It finally gave up flapping and decided to fly, screaming a battle cry. The sound echoed.

  Watching it spiral higher and higher, I wished I could fly. "Wow," I said.

  Mark nodded. "You ready?"

  "Okay."

  He propped me back up, and when he was certain I had my own balance, he stepped away. I had to make a wide turn to face the direction we had come, but heading downhill was easier than uphill. Since I was following him, I didn't have to pay attention to anything but keeping my balance.

  Halfway back, I quit reaching out for the trees. It still wasn't pretty, but I made it.

  At the truck, he opened the back again. I sat down gratefully. Despite the energetic exercise, my nose was cold and the tips of my ears would have shivered if they were able. "Whew."

  He ruffled my hair. "See. Not so bad, not so bad."

  "Uh-hmm."

  Mark shook the shoes off and put them in the truck. He pulled one last item from the food bag. "Hot chocolate," he said holding up a giant thermos.

  My eyes widened. "Did you make it with real milk?" I barely dared hope.

  He looked puzzled. "Of course. How else do you make it?"

  Okay, that was it. I was firmly and completely head-over-heels in love. I might have been able to resist his other charms, but the hot chocolate put me right over the top. The fact that it wasn't the powdered stuff mixed with hot water was absolute proof of his intelligence.

  They say the way to catch a guy is through his stomach. Well, men didn't have a monopoly on that particular market. It was indisputably the direct path to my heart. Mark had just provided a most excellent lunch, taken me to a fabulous place with a view, and now he was offering my very favorite drink, bar none.