Wonderland

by Bridget Midway

  “Can’t I just sleep in the sunroom?”

  “No, no. You know the kids all like sleeping in there. Your father plugs up the fake fireplace and they think it is a camping adventure. An adult would just spoil it for them.”

  Bunking with her nieces and nephews would have been fine with Ryanne. Rubbing her temple where she was developing a migraine, Ryanne threw out, “You know, Mom, I can just get a hotel room—”

  “A hotel? Are you bringing someone with you?” The note of excitement in her mother’s voice couldn’t have been missed by a deaf person.

  “No, no. Just thinking about space. Matter of fact, I could even get Aunt Mildred a hotel room and everyone would sleep more peacefully.”

  “You will not. How would that look, with my eldest daughter staying outside of her family home?” Her mother obviously disapproved.

  But that was what it was coming to, anyway. All she needed was for Aunt Mildred to get married, and Ryanne would be promptly arranged to the front porch.

  “It doesn’t matter.” Ryanne barely held in her groan. Every year it was the same thing.

  “Yes, it does, Ryanne. Now stop moaning about it. It will only be a week. So, when are you coming home?”

  Home was now in Florida, where her parents had retired eight years ago when her father took a consulting job with the government. Even though he was retired, he still worked from his office every day from six to three. Ryanne was the only one of her family that still lived in the Charlotte area, two miles away from where they had all been raised.

  Glancing around the top of her desk at all the things she would need to have completed in the next two weeks before Christmas, Ryanne shook her head. “I don’t know. I have a lot on my plate at work.”

  As a product manager, there was always so much to do from Thanksgiving until March. Everything was about e-commerce and the bottom line, then developing higher retail sales for the next year.

  “Work. That is all you ever talk about. You never take time off.”

  Oh, here comes the guilt trip. “Mom, I was just home for Thanksgiving.”

  “That was only for two days and you went back home early Saturday morning.”

  “That’s because you, Meeya, and Brook almost shopped my feet off. How many toy stores can a person go into just for one sale?”

  “Amelia and Brook are thrifty. They get it from me. You and Devyn are like your father. What you want, you get, no matter the price.”

  It was true; she and her brother Devyn hated shopping, like their father. Gynger didn’t care either way. When they were growing up, her mother always went grocery shopping on Tuesday, after she’d gotten the coupons from the Sunday paper and went through the grocery store’s weekly shopper on Monday.

  “Thank goodness for online shopping.”

  “Takes all the fun out of it. Can you at least be in by Thursday? On Friday we want to take all the kids to the indoor ice-skating rink, maybe even roast marshmallows in the backyard and have hot cocoa.”

  Ryanne knew that meant the first day of “oh, Ryanne, once you have kids” comments. Those comments weren’t as bad as the ones that followed her parents’ evening by the lights for couples. After the kids were asleep, the adults would go to the annual Nights of Lights Festival in St. Augustine. That meant she would be the odd duck out while spouses hugged and snuggled close and she kept getting the pitiful “poor Ryanne doesn’t have anyone” looks.

  She always loved holiday lights and couldn’t resist going. Her buffer, Aunt Mildred, kept an eye on the kids and teens at the house, so that left Ryanne, the single woman, standing out. Simply the thought of it all made Ryanne wish she could just stay home. Looking around her desk, she realized that may not be a stretch.

  “I can’t make any promises on when I’m coming in.” Leaning back in her seat, she crossed her legs and picked a piece of lint from her skirt.

  “Oh, Rye dear, I wish you would think of family more than your ca—”

  “Sorry, Mom, I have a meeting I am late for. I love you. I’ll call when I have more concrete plans.”

  “Okay, sweetheart.” Her mom’s sigh was heavy. “Just think about what I said. I don’t want you to miss out on all the activities.”

  “I will. Hug Dad for me. Bye.” She tapped the End Call button on her cell phone, then tossed it on her desk. It slid until it bumped her computer monitor.

  Man, she hated lying to her mother, but Thanksgiving had only been a few weeks ago and it had been grueling enough. She loved her family; she and her sisters and brother were very close, but the more spouses and children they added to the family the more pressure Ryanne was under.

  Rising, she walked over to the small window on one of the side walls of her office. As a junior product manager, she was just happy to have four walls and a door. She’d spent her first three years in a cubicle until her promotion a year and a half ago. Unlike the other managers, her window didn’t face the city; it faced away instead. She had an excellent view of the parking garage across the street, and the interstate, and if she pressed her face to the glass just so, she could see the edge of the Charlotte Panthers’ stadium.

  The attendant in the garage across from her was wearing a Santa Claus hat, most likely the same one he’d had on since she had returned to work after Thanksgiving. It fit the soft holiday music that was playing from someone’s office.

  Leaning her shoulder against the wall as she gazed out the window, she remembered the excited note in her mother’s voice when she’d brought up getting a hotel room. Her mother was always awaiting news that she had begun to date. If encouraged, her mother would already be thinking about wedding bells and bassinets.

  Hell, it wasn’t that she didn’t want to bring a man home for Christmas, or that she didn’t still have hopes of one day meeting the right guy and settling down. It was just that most of the guys around her were already married or just looking to get laid. She’d read an article once that said corporate women should look outside of “men in corporate fields” to date, and that career women’s standards were too high.

  That was all well and good, if a person wasn’t stuck inside an office all day. She’d tried online dating, but at almost six feet tall, it hadn’t taken her long to discover that most men lied on their profiles. “Six feet” meant a man was five-seven. “Six-three” meant he wore thick-soled boots and he was only five-nine out of them.

  Height was only the smallest thing that men lied about online. If she dated another man who was living in his parents’ basement like a comical country song, she’d scream.

  Shaking her head, Ryanne went back to her desk. Dating had been put on the back burner since she got promoted. Sometimes she wondered why it was that she couldn’t have at least been like the women in evening dramas who had hot flings with a coworker.

  However, none of her coworkers appealed to her. Not even sexy Todd Collins, who seemed to be staring at her crotch as if he could see through her skirt or pants. She was pretty sure he was packing some kind of venereal disease. As much as she’d like to get laid, and laid well, she didn’t want to risk something using a condom as a bridge from his sex to hers.

  Eventually, she would have to call her mother back and give her a firm date on when she would be flying in, but she would put it off as long as possible. Maybe she’d circumvent her mother and just call her dad on his cell; probably a better plan.

  Pulling up the consumer reports database she was establishing for one of her newer clients, whose current method of following shopper trends was atrocious, she buried herself back in work. It was past lunch already. If she wanted to make it home to have a decent dinner, then she needed to make headway. Thinking about her nonexistent sex life with a nonexistent man was not going to get her anywhere.

  An hour later, her computer made the sound of a bubble bursting, letting her know she had an interoffice e-mail. A small pop-up notice told her it was from her boss, Joe Jacobs. Deciding not to ignore it, she minimized the database screen and went
to her inbox.

  Her boss was requesting that she attend the coming retail convention in Denver. She checked the dates for the convention and knew how she’d “lucked up” and got it—it was the week leading in to Christmas. Since the holiday was on a Tuesday this year, most of the higher-ranking managers and executives were taking the whole week before as vacation, as they did every year. She, unfortunately, would have only Friday to Wednesday, over either Christmas or New Year’s.

  In her boss’s e-mail, he explained that she would leave out on Sunday and come back on Friday before Christmas. Technically, that meant she could be at her parents’ house by Friday night. Maybe she could stretch it to Sunday. Yippee.

  Like a good girl, she promptly typed a confirmation response to Mr. Jacobs. There wasn’t much need for anything more, because his e-mail held all the details she would need. The only thing she had to do was book her flight, which the company would add to her check as reimbursement after she returned.

  The bursting bubble sound came from her computer again. The next message, from her coworker Mattie, was entitled “All the Single Ladies”. Ryanne smiled, wondering if her friend was planning another girls night out for New Year’s Eve. Ryanne hoped so, because she didn’t want to ring in the new year alone.

  The message read:

  Hey, girl. I got this from my cousin. It sounds like fun. I can’t go. Bob and I will be in Hawaii for the holiday. Thought you’d like it or at least get a laugh. Mattie

  Bob was Mattie’s new boyfriend. They had become inseparable over the last month. Ryanne scanned the rest of the message and realized it was an ad for some ski resort in Starview, Colorado for a week-long singles Christmas retreat. Rolling her eyes, Ryanne closed the e-mail. She didn’t even ski, not to mention she didn’t know where the hell Starview was.

  How desperate would a person have to be to drop herself in the middle of a bunch of singles? Single men, her mind pointed out.

  Putting Mattie’s e-mail out of her mind, Ryanne printed the packet of info from her boss. Her computer froze for a moment, and she got frustrated and clicked the convention e-mail again and hit print. A turtle-slow, out-dated computer—just another perk of being the lowest on the totem pole.

  When it started working again, she got up and went out into the copier room, where her pages printed out along with a large number of other people’s print jobs.

  She couldn’t wait for the end-of-year fallout money. Mr. Jacobs had promised her an office printer of her own.

  No one else was in the copier room. She pulled out her stack of papers and sorted through them. The packet had printed twice, as she’d suspected, but she’d just put the overage into the reusable paper box.

  “Well, well. Merry Christmas to me. I came in here just in time.”

  Instantly her skin began to feel as if a million and one worms were slithering all over her, warning her it was Todd. Taking a deep breath, she gripped her papers and turned.

  “I’ll be right out of your way.” She plastered a fake smile on her mouth. She may think he was a horny toad, but he was still a senior manager and outranked her; she couldn’t afford to be rude to him.

  “No rush. You can finish your copies. I can wait.” His gaze dropped to her breasts, then lower, and stopped at her crotch.

  She pressed her thighs together and resisted the urge to cross her legs. “I wasn’t making copies, just had to get some things from the printer.” She waved the papers in the air to grab his attention.

  Looking at them, Todd said, “Ah. A little bird told me…”

  More like a snake, from where Todd actually dwelled.

  “…that you’re taking the Denver convention.”

  He made it sound as if she had volunteered for it. She didn’t mind going; she just would have liked to be asked instead of being directed. “I am. Well, I really need to start making my flight arrangements to leave out in a couple of days.” She made a gesture, indicating she needed to get past him.

  “Understandable.” Giving her one of his dazzling smiles that made most of the weak-minded women in the office act silly, he stepped to the side and allowed her to pass.

  She ignored his smile and went out through the doorway and headed back to her office. She was glad Todd wasn’t one of those touchy perverts. Back in her office, she settled into her chair and started flipping through the papers to get her mind prepared.

  Todd’s voice intruded into her sanctuary. “Ryanne, you forgot something.”

  She held in a groan. Frowning, she glanced up and watched him wave a piece of paper in the air as he moved further into her office. She thought she’d pulled everything off the printer. With her luck she’d probably left the conference schedule sheet.

  “I don’t think so…” She made a quick assessment; all her relevant material was in hand. The first sheet said number one of five, and she had all five pages. Looking up, she explained, “My temperamental computer printed it out twice. That’s probably just a double copy. Do me a favor and toss it into the reuse bin.”

  Covering her mouse with her right hand, she wanted to give Todd the impression that she was too busy for idle chitchat and sexual word play.

  Gazing at the sheet, Todd shook his head. “You sure you want others in the office to know that you’re planning to spend your Christmas vacation getting sexed up by strange men?”

  “What?” She rose from her seat and made a grab for the paper.

  Todd held it out of her reach as he leaned back. “Seriously, Ryanne, if you need a holiday fling, I could have cleared a day or two for you in my own two weeks.”

  “Give me that,” she growled and held out her hand. She knew what he held: the helpful ad from Mattie. Damn it.

  Smiling mischievously, Todd slowly placed the paper onto her open palm. “You sure you don’t want me to rearrange my schedule? Getting some may be what you need so you aren’t so ‘wound up’, as everyone describes you.”

  No, he didn’t go there. Grabbing the paper in her hand, she stared at the senior product manager. “Whether I’m ‘wound up’ or not is none of your business, sir.” She made sure he clearly understood that she was reminding him that they were in a workplace. Even though the company had no official rules on interoffice dating—or humping—she wouldn’t get involved with a guy at work. If it went sour, her life could become miserable. “I’ve always kept my private life separate from my professional life and I don’t plan to change it now.”

  He lifted his hands palms out, a sign of surrender, as he backed up. “No offense, just trying to help out a lovely lady.”

  “Thanks, but no thanks.” Ryanne plopped back down in her seat as she eyed Todd until he’d stepped out of her office.

  Pressing out the crumbled paper, she read the ad again and for a moment considered calling the resort, if for no other reason than just to prove to Todd and everyone else she could do what she wanted to do with her time. Go to a singles retreat, ski, have fun, get laid… Break a leg, her mind added.

  It was true she was a klutz when it came to sports. The only thing she did well in was the sport of beauty; she’d learned how to execute grace and a little sassiness while walking in heels, but that was it.

  Shaking her head, she pushed the ad aside. There was no time for her to even consider going anywhere; her days would be consumed in a conference, then off to her parents’ house.

  That was the real kicker; no matter how much she tried to tell herself she wasn’t going to be the nineteenth wheel at her parents’ house with all the spouses and kids, she knew that was exactly where she would end up. Like every year.

  Chapter Two

  “See, Carson, what did I tell you? Babes for miles, and the singles week hasn’t even kicked off yet.” Phillip Stifler, Carson’s best friend since he was eleven, stood holding a suitcase as he gazed toward the Village Resort's entrance where about seven giggling women were standing, tossing their hair and making eyes at the men.

  Carson detested females that giggled. A woman wh
o giggled seemed to lack substance and true confidence. “Yeah, you told me. As soon as you finish helping me get this vehicle unloaded, you can go for all the ass you can handle.”

  Pulling out a bag from the back of his Honda CR-V, Carson shoved it at Phillip. Catching the bag before it hit the snow at his feet, Phillip smiled. “Hey, I’m not the only one who’s getting laid this week, my friend.”

  Shaking his head, Carson went to the side of his SUV to unsnap the skis from the top rack. “I agreed to come. I’m here. I’m good.”

  “No, no, no, no, my boy. You’re not good.” Phillip hustled around the side of the vehicle. “If you think I’m going to allow you to burrow yourself inside the suite and moan over Ashley, you are sadly mistaken.”

  With one hand holding the pair of skis he’d just unlatched, Carson stared at his friend. “Not my plan at all. I told you before you convinced me to come on this trip that I was over Ashley, so I don’t need a fuck-fest to get her off my mind.”

  That was the truth. He and his ex of six months had been through for a year now, truth be told. The woman, a giggling redhead who was fun and adventurous both in and out of the bedroom, had cheated on him with her boss, then decided she wanted to discover a “depth to her artistry”—specific method of expression yet to be determined—and travel through Paris for a while. The only problem was that she’d decided it was best to announce all of her misdeeds, in full detail, while drunk and at his office holiday party, on the DJ’s microphone.

  The worst part about it was that he had been in the bathroom when Ashley began her confession, so he’d been completely humiliated by the time a coworker came to tell him about his girlfriend’s “stand-up routine.” Rushing out of the bathroom, he’d snatched her from the stage and carried her fireman-style out of the hotel ballroom, while she blubbered over and over again, “I’m sorry for screwing Mr. Patterson five times. I wanted the raise. I need the money for my Paris trip. Tell me you understand, Carson.”

  He had been a laughingstock and the brunt of office jokes for longer than their relationship had lasted. Being rid of Ashley had been the best Christmas present ever. He was more than over her.