The Holiday Switch(28)

“Let me guess, you have a problem with how I’m doing my job,” he says before I’m able to speak. “And you want me to use the T-shirt folder. But these Tshirts are on sale, and I’ve been back and forth twice today to stock it. Why not fit more by rolling a few and stacking them up?” He finishes what looks like a pyramid of Tshirts and presents it like a prize. “Voilà.”

It’s a good idea. I know it’s a good idea. But Teddy neither asked nor did he communicate these changes to me or anyone else in the gift shop. Again. “Teddy, the way to a customer’s heart is through their eyes. And rolling the Tshirts makes them look like they’re only good enough to camp in. You can’t even see the graphic on the shirt.” I hold out the shirt-folding contraption to him.

Two hours. A short two hours left in this shift, and then I can go home and tunnel into a book that will be an escape portal from these last couple of days.

    His expression hardens. “Seriously?”

“Would it kill you?”

“Would it hurt to try something new? I thought for sure you would be open to some creativity around here. The lists, the display. The library. Why isn’t there any give?”

The question has too many layers to unpack. Where should I start? Because I’m simply enforcing the rules? That maybe, if it’s good enough, then don’t fix it? And who is he to make changes in the first place?

But I don’t want to argue. I don’t have the space to argue. I can barely even wrap my mind around our conversation at Scrooge’s. So, instead, I shake the T-shirt folder in front of his face. “Please, use it.” I glance back at the register, where triplet girls have approached, each with the Inn’s signature ornament—a glass book. “Take it.”

Finally, with a quiet and protracted sigh, he gently accepts the contraption.

“Thank you. After you’re done here, we have a couple of things to do for the New Year’s Eve event. Ms. Velasco bought white Christmas trees to place at every corner of the shop. We’ll need to put all four up, along with lights.” I step away. Behind me, Teddy mumbles something indiscernible.

I turn around, raise my eyebrows at him.

He lifts his hands up, as if innocent. But by the look on his face, I can bet what he said wasn’t innocent at all.



* * *





At my and Teddy’s assigned break, I rush ahead of him to the break room so I can grab my book and coat for alone time outside.

    I kept it together most of the shift. After our T-shirt non-argument, which I won, we kept out of each other’s way. He’s gotten the hang of most tasks at the register, which gave me the opportunity to brainstorm my blog post for Menorah Mayhem while putting up two of the white trees.

I mess with the lock of the locker and pull my backpack out. When I turn, Teddy is walking in, and he raises a finger and opens his mouth to speak, but I brush past him. “Not in the mood, Teddy.”

I won’t let him occupy every bit of my life. It’s bad enough I have to worry about my secret getting out.

Except by the time I settle into my chair, it starts to snow and flakes are sticking to my screen. I shut my laptop and, despite the cold, pull out my next read, the second book in the Hanukkah Hijinks cozy mystery series.

Diving into a book, even for ten minutes, usually resets my day. Not only does reading calm me, but oftentimes books put things in perspective. Stories remind me that there’s more to my surroundings. Reading helped me through those out-of-control feelings when Dad lost his shop. I never leaned on my free library more than the time when we couldn’t afford books.

But this time, when I look at the book in my lap, all I can think of is what Teddy said in the gift shop.

I thought for sure you would be open to some creativity around here.

I am creative, aren’t I? I write. I work on my blog design and change it up as much as I can. And I read. I read so much and get so immersed in stories that I sometimes think of characters as people—I hurt when they’re in pain and swoon when they fall in love.

    But the world isn’t made of creativity alone. There are rules, after all. And do I have to be creative all the time? Can’t I just enjoy this…work…separately?

Finally, who is he to judge any part of me, my creativity, my secrets, when he has his own issues to sort through? I didn’t ask to be roped into his family drama. And now, somehow, I’m inextricably linked to Teddy when all I ever really wanted were more work hours.

Anger pulses through me. It’s what I’ve been repressing throughout my shift.

I’m on my feet before I can register my body moving. While I still have to protect my own secret, it doesn’t mean I should have to keep silent about my discontent. I might have not objected after he trapped me into his secret, but I don’t have to make things easy for him. I throw the door open and step in, and the whoosh of warm air is a catalyst to my rising temper. When I enter the break room, I’m ready to tell Teddy off.

I’m also ready to inform Ms. Velasco that her worst employee is her nephew.

Teddy’s sitting at the table wearing earbuds, and his gaze lifts from his phone screen to me. He straightens and takes out an earbud. “Listen, Lila. Honestly, I didn’t mean to tick you off this badly.”

“I…what?” I reel back, stunned. I was all prepared to let him know where he could stick his candy cane.