The Holiday Switch(17)

[Tinsel & Tropes] IloveReading: Putting this book down on my TBR! And can’t wait for your blog birthday surprise.



It’s followed by a text from Carm:

Ready for our first Mission tonight? Make an Ornament night with Mrs. Claus?





I groan. It’s thirty-five dollars for a glass ball ornament and glitter. But I did promise.

Lila: How could I forget?

You set my calendar to alarm this morning!





Carm: KC will be there too

7pm

You better not go MIA





I groan again.

“What’s up with you?” Teddy asks, suddenly in front of me.

I startle. Goodness. He’s inches away. And he smells good, like fresh laundry and mint. Mentally, I clamp down my sense of smell. “Nothing.”

“You ready for me to open?”

“I said I was ready.”

He sticks out a hand. I stare at it.

“The key?”

“Right. The key.” I slap the silver ring into his palm.

“Thanks.” Grinning, he walks away.

Carm: How’s the first day with Teddy?

A grunting sound pulls my attention. Teddy is hanging from the door frame, using just the tips of his fingers. He pulls himself up so his elbows bend to almost ninety degrees. Then he casually lets go and unlocks and flips on the automatic doors.

I look around to see if anyone else witnessed that feat of strength and ridiculousness. Who does that? And why??

Lila: I might need sugar after our crafting





Carm: Ooo, because he’s so sweet?





Lila: Because I need all energy to deal with him





More dots indicate that Carm is responding, but at the sound of the doors sliding open and the footsteps of customers entering, I stick my phone back under the counter.

One thing at a time.



* * *





Four hours later, and still on the register, my energy drags. My life force is drained from dealing with Teddy.

No, we can’t wait until the end of the day to return all of the go-backs.

Yes, we must greet every customer that walks in.

Yes, even when they’re browsing.

No, heading into town for lunch probably isn’t a good idea because you won’t get back in time.

Fine, you can have half my sandwich.

To Teddy’s benefit, having three younger siblings has trained me in all the ways. I’m somewhat patient when Teddy suggests rearranging the stockroom, because he couldn’t find the candy cane magnets. I practice self-control when he comments that the register area is too cluttered. And when he tells a toddler that it’s all right to “test” the music boxes by winding them all up and letting them play simultaneously (we have eight different varieties), I dial into my restraint.

Teddy is lucky that my exterior exudes calm, even if my insides are on hyperdrive, like a disgruntled elf on Christmas Eve.

A phone alarm sounds through the store, grabbing the attention of customers nearby, and from the corner I hear, “Yessssss.”

Please tell me that he hasn’t had his phone on him this whole time, I think. And tell me he didn’t turn on his alarm to signal the end of his shift.

Sure enough, Teddy appears at the registers, carrying a box of stuffed animals, a grin plastered on his face. It would be adorable if he wasn’t so frustrating. “Quitting time.”

    “Technically, you can’t leave the store until your replacement gets here.” Although, relief courses through me because shift number one with Teddy is dunzo.

“Hi! I’m here!” Shana, another gift shop employee, enters in a rush. She pulls her locs over a Bookworm Inn visor.

“Sweet. I’m off to clock out.” Teddy holds out the box of products. “Once I drop these off in the stockroom, of course.”

“Sounds good to me,” I mumble. Good riddance. Shana is a whiz in the gift shop, and with her at the register, perhaps I can get a couple of minutes in my library. The last of the tours have come through, and at least two bags of donated books were dropped off today.

Teddy weaves through the aisles, whistling, and as he passes the sunglasses display, his phone thumps out of his back pocket.

“You dropped your phone,” I call out.

“Can you grab it for me?” he asks, readjusting his grip on the box.

“I can, but do I want to?” I whisper. Except seeing that phone on the ground as a couple of customers enter the shop makes me nervous. “I’ll put it under the counter!” I yell.

“Whatever!”

Jeesh.

How does that happen? How does Ms. Velasco, who is very much like my mother, and therefore much like me, have a nephew who’s so…whatever?

I bend down and pick up the phone; it’s protected in a black Smashbox cover, like mine. There isn’t a day without a spill or a drop or someone stealing my phone in the Santos family, and Smashboxes are the best on the market. Of all the colors, the black cover is always on sale.

    I stick his phone under the counter with mine.

A group of ladies passes our large wall of windows, all wearing the same teal shirt, with Holiday by the Lake’s most famous quote scrawled across it: ALL I HAVE IS MY WORD, AND LOVE. They have matching hair accessories, too: shiny pink bows tied on top of their heads.