Always, in December(33)
“Seems nice,” Laura continued, ignoring Josie.
“Yes,” Josie agreed. He was nice, she thought, though she hadn’t figured that out at first, being as how he’d almost tried to hide it from her.
“And he’s been making John laugh, though I’ll admit that’s not all that difficult.” Josie knew Laura was building to something so said nothing, waiting for her to get to the point. They both glanced over to John and Max, who had stopped a waitress to get more drinks. John was broader than Max, but somehow Max still seemed to have more presence. It was the way he carried himself, Josie decided, like he’d learned the way to move through a room with purpose, and so that people moved out of the way for him, rather than the other way around. Laura lowered her voice. “So what’s the damage, then?”
Josie huffed out a breath. “Why does there have to be damage?”
“Is he married?”
Josie laughed. “No.”
“How do you know?”
“Well, there’s no wedding ring, for one.”
“Right, because people never take those off.”
“He’s not married,” Josie insisted, though she remembered again what her aunt had told her. He’d lied about where he worked—could there be more he was lying about? Without really thinking about it, she lifted a hand to run her fingers over one of the star earrings he’d given her. Laura watched her do it.
“Nice earrings.”
“Thanks.” She decided not to own up to the fact that Max gave them to her, given she could see him and John approaching now. John casually rubbed Laura’s arm as he sat next to her, handing her a new glass of Prosecco just as Max set one down in front of Josie. She smiled up at him, perhaps a touch more enthusiastically than was really necessary, but the smile he gave her back was quick and efficient.
He held up his phone. “I just have to call the airline, they’ve left me a message. Be right back.”
Josie nodded, and tried to ignore the I told you so look that Laura was giving her. Before Laura could start up again—the presence of John wouldn’t stop her—Josie asked Laura about how the wedding planning was coming on, which distracted her enough that she launched into a story of how difficult the events manager at the venue—a Scottish castle no less—was being and how she was paranoid about there being a train strike that weekend, which would mean that no one from London could make it. A waiter came round with canapés, and Josie took an arancini ball, taking little bites as she listened to Laura’s story and trying very hard to stay present, rather than keep scanning the room for either of the two men who were preying on her mind.
Max came back after about ten minutes, sliding into the chair next to her. She caught a subtle whiff of his aftershave—something expensive, she reckoned. “What did they say?” she asked.
He picked up his glass and took a sip. “They said they’ve got me on a flight on Boxing Day.” He shrugged. “We’ll see, I guess.” Josie nodded and smiled, because it seemed like the appropriate reaction, but before she could ask anything more—like how long he was going to be away for and if he’d be coming back to London at any point after that—someone tapped the microphone on the stage area, and the chatter in the hall died down briefly as everyone looked at the man on the stage, clearly a technician.
“Speeches already?” John asked.
“They’ll want to get them out the way so they can get drunk with the rest of us, I imagine,” Laura said.
Max grinned appreciatively as the CEO of the company, a man in his sixties who Josie had only seen once in the four years she’d worked for them, took to the stage—a little platform that raised him ever so slightly above everyone else. He cleared his throat, touching his glasses and nodding to the guy in black who was adjusting the microphone to his height. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to say a few words before we all get stuck in to the festivities.”
There was a shuffling around the hall as people found seats or quickly grabbed another drink, then turned their attention to the stage. “Thank you so much for joining us this evening, and for giving up your Christmas Eve to support our sponsored charity for the year.” He indicated a table behind him, which was home to various items—a bottle of champagne, a hamper basket, and photos of what looked like a helicopter and the Eiffel Tower, among other things. “Please do take the time to bid on the items here and show your support—Christmas is all about giving, after all.”
Laura made a derisive noise. “The whole charity thing was supposed to get us press attention,” she explained in a subtle whisper to the three of them. “That’s why it’s on Christmas Eve too, the board thought it would mean we got some mentions in the diaries, and that a few mags might cover it, which obviously they haven’t done because the whole thing has been handled terribly. I did try to tell Janice this, but instead of listening to common sense and years of experience, she chose to ignore me.”
“It’s been a good year,” the CEO continued, “and we’ve seen some growth, which is excellent news, but there’s still room for improvement and we’ve been looking for ways to expand and restructure each individual company to make sure that we stay strong players in the market.” Josie clenched her teeth at the word restructure. Here he was, talking about how good the year had been—if it had been so good, then why were they trying to make a bunch of people redundant?