A Christmas Ghost Story

Chapter 1: Christmas Is Cancelled

I am not going to stand here and pretend that no one has heard the story I am about to relate, that no one has put it in scene, or rewritten it. Many versions have been created of the classical tale written by Charles Dickens in 1843, but I like to think each one had its own charm, its own personality.

That said, there really isn't much to be said before starting the story. I much prefer to start it and let you figure things out on your own.

All you need to know for now is that on the night before Christmas, Heather Rhodes went to visit her long-time friend and business partner, Courtney Reyes, for a much-needed girl talk.

Heather had not been feeling well that evening, but after a few words with her old friend, she was soon laughing like she hadn't in years.

"You're worse than me," Courtney declared playfully. "Remember when you stood up DJ just as punishment for asking you out?" she smiled conspiringly. "Poor guy. He always had a crush on you and you didn't even give him a chance."

"Oh, yeah" Heather smiled, but she also looked a bit guilty. "That was by far the meanest thing I've ever done."

Courtney smiled at her friend and with warm appreciation. "You were a marketing genius."

After their talk, Heather felt much better. She left her good friend's office with the same weight on her shoulders, but a lighter heart.

And that is all you need to know for now.

"Joy to the world! the Lord is come

Let earth receive her King!

Let every heart

prepare Him room!"

And heaven and nature sing

and heaven and nature sing,

and heaven, and heaven and nature sing!"

The streets of New York were alive with the sound of carol singers that had become so typical of the holiday season. The makeshift director of the crew watched pleasantly as people walked by, when he saw a woman going towards them.

He turned to her and brought the can he was holding a little forward, and he didn't have to force the smile on his face when he saw the cream mink coat and hat she wore, and the expensive-looking tote bag she carried on her shoulder, secured by both glove-covered hands.

"Do you want to make a donation?" He asked upon her arrival.

The woman in the mink coat chuckled, as if the proposition had been humorous. "Oh, no," she said. "I am here to ask you to leave."

The man staggered. "Excuse me?"

"I am afraid you have to leave," she said, but there was nothing sorry about her tone of voice.

"But why-?"

"You are conducting an illegal business, blocking the sidewalk and disturbing the peace," she said firmly. "And unless you have a licence –which I strongly suspect you do not-, you are in fact breaking the law."

The crew had stopped singing, and they all stared at the woman in front of them. From a distance, they had failed to see the cold fierceness in her eyes; but now it was clear as day. It seemed alien to think, right now, that she had approached them to give them charity.

A young boy, one of the bolder of the group, spoke up. "Excuse me, but we're not breaking any law. Caroling doesn't need a license, and I know because I asked my brother—he's a lawyer."

The woman turned her unwavering gaze on him. "You do need a license, as long as you are on private property," she went on. "And guess what? As soon as you set foot in this" she pointed to the ground, "part of the sidewalk, next to this" she pointed up to the massive building they were next to. "enterprise, you are in private property," she glared. "My, private property. So unless you want me calling the Police, you have no choice but to leave. Now."

The singers had all fallen quiet. They looked at each other, then at the woman, who stared back, glaring daggers at all of them. Finally, one by one, they left the spot—they saw no other choice.

The woman stood on the sidewalk and watched as the group disbanded; making sure that last one of them was officially out of her property.

As soon as they had, she produced her cell phone out of the pocket of her coat and flipped it open. She dialed for her assitant as she walked inside the massive building. Her massive building.

Inside was just as cold as the outside, the girl remarked indignantly as she fixed her heavy coat closer to her. At least the inside wasn't covered in the ever-so-unfortunate snow.

"Falcon," chirped a voice on the other line.

"Bridgette, can you do me a favor," she said flatly, nothing requesting about her tone, so that it wasn't so much a petition as it was a statement.

"Sure, Courtney."

"Hey," she stopped. "What were we talking about yesterday?" she chided sternly.

"…Professional distance."

"Exactly."

Courtney crossed the lobby towards the elevator, pressed for her floor and leaned back to wait, taking note absent-mindedly of how strangely empty the elevator was for this hour.

A sigh was heard on the other line. "What did you need, Miss Reyes?"

"Much better. Now contact security and tell them to guard the door for carol singers."

"Carol singers?" her assistant couldn't help but to repeat her boss.

"Yes, carol singers," Courtney confirmed with impatience. "They block the street, they don't let me concentrate, and I want them out."

"Okay, I'm right on it then," the other woman accepted; and if she still didn't agree with her boss' course of action, she didn't show it.

"And bring me the progress reports to my office immediately. And a black coffe, too."

"Got it. Anything else?"

"No, that's it for now," she said. The conversation ended and the woman dedicated to staring up at the numbers as they passed by.

It is at this point clear that the protagonist of our story is a villain.

Now, while there isn't a lot that needs to be said about Heather (yet, at least), there is a lot to be said about Courtney Reyes.

The first thing you need to know is that she was not, by any means, old. This is the first thing that needs to be cleared up because very often people hearing her speak, in that authoritative, no-nonsense voice of hers, get confused about her age. Courtney was actually in her mid-twenties, but she was indeed the sole president of the Rhodes & Reyes Law Firm of Manhattan, New York.

The second thing you need to know is that Courtney was an intimidating person to be around.

To know Courtney Reyes was to fear Courtney Reyes, and anyone from the town could confirm that. There was something about her rigid perfection, that could frighten someone out of their wits. The air seemed to be chiller when she was around.

Because of her age, Courtney had had to learn all the tricks for doing business and making a name for herself, and fast.

In consequence, her chocolate brown hair was always pin-straight and cut about an inch above her shoulders. She was always dressed elegantly in neutral, muted colors, that contrasted with the vitality of her warm, mocha-colored skin and her hair. However, they did not contrast with her eyes—black, hard and sharp as a hawk's, it seemed as if the entire iciness of her being gathered and potentiated in that one feature. The windows of the soul, the one feature you could not hide or smooth over.

She was the roughest, toughest, most power-hungry business-woman in a thousand-mile range. She was shallow. Sneaky. And nobody could remember the last time she had treated a person with warmth. Manipulative. Greedy. And as soon as she got something she wanted, she had her eyes on something new, ten times bigger.

But anyway, the protagonist of our story –who also happens to be the villain-, watched as the numbers passed by, going over her deeds for the day in her head. Suddenly remembering something, she dialed the number of her assistant again.

"Falcon."

"Bridgette, do me another favor," she said, once again in a tone that had nothing requesting about it. "Tell Trent Rivers to come to my office right away."

"He isn't here yet."

Courtney paused. "Come again?" she said in a strained tone.

"W—well it's early," Bridgette stuttered, frightened at her boss' tone, even though she personally had done nothing wrong. "Y'know, it's almost Christmas, so schedules are looser. People are starting to come in later and leave earlier."

Courtney shut her eyes tightly. "Christmas, huh?" Once again that word. The prospect of that particular holiday alone put Courtney in a bad mood. As if she hadn't had enough with the carol singers…

Her assistant was quiet.

Courtney sighed. "Tell him to come to my office as soon as he deigns to arrive."

"Will do."

"Thanks, Bridgette."

The elevators door opened and Courtney walked into her floor in direction of her office without a pause.

"Beth!" she barked as soon as she saw the familiar girl, causing said girl to drop all the papers she was holding, quite awkwardly to begin with.

"Y—ye-eth m'am?"

"Turn on the heat in my office" Courtney said in passing. "I absolutely hate the cold, and I always seem to get stuck with it."

"Okay, Mi-thh," Beth responded. She waited until the other woman was at a safe distance, and turned back to her coworker Ezekiel conspirationally. "That'th what happen-th when your th-oul is froth-en. The cold alway-th goe-th with you."

Ezekiel looked at her but did not add to the conversation; his benevolent, God-fearing nature could make him chastise his coworker for saying bad things about people behind their back, but in all honesty, he knew that whatever Beth could say wouldn't even begin to compare with the kind things Courtney Reyes could fling out.

Besides, Beth's words had struck as true.

Meanwhile, her very own assistant Bridgette Falcon walked out of the elevator, attempting to blow off a lock of blond hair that had fallen right in front of her face. The massive coat she had put on to fight the extreme cold they were facing was falling off one shoulder; plus she was balancing a handful of files and a cup of coffe in her arms. She had been doing a good job at it, especially given her ungainly nature, until someone bumped on her, knocked the files off her arms and left without apologizing.

"Ouch. Damn!" Frowning, she kneeled down to collect Courtney's files.

"You okay, Bridgette?" A concerned voice immediately asked. The blond looked up to find DJ, a coworker from floor 21.

"Yeah," she said, as the man helped her pick up her things. "Thanks. I just gotta take these to Courtney immediately."

"Here, I'll help you," DJ offered, taking some of his friend's weight; he was carrying a box under one arm himself, but the added weight was no problem for him. DJ was so big and muscular that he was could be intimidating at first sight, but as soon as he opened his mouth you realized he was a sweet guy. They both walked towards Courtney's office.

"God, why does it have to be so cold?" Bridgette complained softly. "I hate the cold, it makes everything awkward."

DJ smiled and made a sound of soft disagreement. "Yeah, I know but… the cold and the snow are just so… holiday-like, don'cha think? I mean the cold, it makes everyone wanna cuddle together, you know? It helps the togetherness of Christmas."

Bridgette couldn't help but smile as DJ's words automatically lifted her spirits. "You know what, DJ? You are completely right. I think I quite like the cold, now, too."

She couldn't stop smiling, as she realized she now saw her surroundings in a different light. She turned to the man. "God, how do you do that? It's like you're that holiday advocate that reminds us all the true meaning of Christmas."

The large man all but blushed. "Oh, I just try best to keep the Christmas spirit in my… heart."

"Whoa."

Both Bridgette and DJ stopped on their tracks as a wave of heat hit them as soon as the stepped into C's office, knocking their breaths out of them.

"Oof. Did we enter the sauna by mistake?" DJ muttered, breathlessly.

"Oh, Bridgette." Courtney looked up from her work to acknowledge the two people in her office, "You can leave those on my desk."

The two turned their attention to the brunette. She was now clad in only a light, grey office dress and open toe heels, having stripped off her coat, sweater, second sweater, overshirt, mink hat and thick wool pantyhose.

"Courtney, why is it so hot in here?" Bridgette said, wiping the sweat that had begun to form on her forehead.

"Because the cold is dreadful, and I can't work with it," Courtney said, taking the files and beginning to skim through them, examining them with an expert eye.

"But then, why do you leave the whole rest of the building to freeze over?" the blond asked, gesturing outside, where through the glass wall you could see everyone wearing their thickest clothes.

Courtney looked up. "Well I can't very well waste all that heating power on the whole of the building, now can I?" she said with a severe gaze, silently instructing her not to question her any further. She then turned her attention to DJ. "Mr. Cooke, may I inquire what you need?"

"Courtney, you've known me since college, girl," the large man chuckled, as he took off his coat and scarf, unable to take the heat any longer. "You can call me DJ."

Courtney smiled patronizingly. "Of course, but there's no reason to forgo professional distance, now is there?"

DJ opened his mouth and looked as if he was about to say something, but then closed it again and just smiled at the girl. "Well, I'm here to invite you girls to the Christmas Party tonight. It's in Webster Hall," he said, taking two bright red and silver invitations from the bix in his arms and handing them to the two girls.

"That's awesome, DJ! Thanks!" Bridgette said.

Courtney looked at her invitation, which read:

C H R I S T M A S B A L L 2 0 1 0

And below that, in cursive letters:

Thanks for the Memories

The brunette rolled her eyes.

"So? Are you guys coming?" DJ asked.

"Sure!" Bridgette chirped.

"I'm not," Courtney said airily, handing the invitation back to him, though DJ didn't take it.

"Oh," he said sadly. "Are you… doing something else?"

"Nope," she said, taking a sip from her coffe.

The man looked thrown off. "Then, why…-?"

"Oh, Mr. Cooke, don't be ridiculous," Courtney snapped, looking more insulted than flattered by the invitation. She stood up and crossed the room to fetch a file, intent on not losing a minute of her time. "I have enough to take care of as it is. I have no time to go to a party!" She sighed, "Besides, I'm not interested in spending the night in fake merriment—next to other people who fake merriment."

"Say what you want," Bridgette started catiously. "But let me remind you that you used to go to all those parties."

"Sure I did!" Courtney replied powerfully. "Back when I needed to. Back when I was still climbing on this business. Now I'm high enough that I don't need to worry about attenting this kind of things," she explained. Bridgette pursed her lips, not completely convinced of her reasons.

"Besides," she went on. "As I said, I have a lot to take care of. The meeting with the Orrick people is in three days and so far, half the vacants for promotion lawyers are empty."

"But, Courtney… it's Christmas," DJ intervened brightly, clearly unaware Courtney's animosity for the holidays, and his voice gained an uplifting quality. "Everything's different—it doesn't matter what you've been doing the rest of the year. It's an opportunity to change, to start fresh."

Behind him, Bridgette was about to tear up.

In front of him, Courtney received the statement with a frown; unaffected by DJ's words, which would turn any other human being to jelly.

But Courtney personally hated jelly, almost as much as she hated Christmas. "It also happens to be the busiest freakin' time of the year," she responded, ice cold. "Christmas is the top most expensive holiday in the world. And for what? It always brings nothing but more laziness into this world."

DJ gasped as if she had spoken blasphemy. And, to DJ, she probably had.

Bridgette simply stood by unimpressed. She was used to Courtney's thoughts on Christmas; if not, she probably would have reacted like DJ.

"Christmas is the time when your employees ask you to pay them a day's work, for no work!" Courtney complained. "When the TV gets clogged with cheesy Christmas movies, and when parents go into debt for buying their brats an unnecessary amount of gifts—All of this, in the precisely coldest time of the year! And I hate the cold!

"It's the time," she continued grimly, turning to the window "when the honest, hardworking, well-off people of the world are guilted into giving up their hard-earned money for the undeserving groundlings dirtying every single corner of this town!" She turned back to them, and plopped down on her chair.

"A joke, Christmas is," she sighed. "Just one more invention of the commercial world."

DJ stared at her in stunned silence for a while.

"Um…" he started in a small voice. He looked down at the box of invitations on his hands, then back at Courtney. "Can I still invite everyone else?"

Courtney rolled her eyes. "They can do whatever they want with their night," she sighed. "The union forces me to pay them anyway," she added under her breath, as DJ's face brightened up in a smile.

"Thanks, Courtney!" he said excitedly as he virtually ran out of the room. "Merry Christmas!"

"Merry Christmas, DJ," Bridgette called sweetly.

"Bye," Courtney muttered.

"And a Happy New Year!" the man added, already door on the door.

"I said GOODBYE!" Courtney snapped, throwing a random ornament at the door DJ had the sense to close right on time to avoid taking a red bulb to the head.

Courtney cast her assistant a look.

"Fix your hair, Bridgette."

The blonde remembered her hair had come undone while she was running errands. She used Courtney's mirror to arrange it into its usual low ponytail, leaving two thick locks to framing her face as usual. Courtney's personal opinion was that her style was too casual, but she liked it; she thought it was fitting for an assistant. Working at a Law Firm was not actually Bridgette's ideal; this job had been a favor from Courtney to her friend for almost twenty years.

Sometimes, Bridgette thought she forgot she was her friend as well as her employee.

When the blonde was done, she saw her boss was staring out of the large window. It was quite an astounding view from that floor; you could see almost all of town from there. Courtney often stood in front of the window when she had a free moment for quiet contemplation. Bridgette's own theory was that it made her feel powerful, being able to oversee the whole of town like they were her subjects; as a reminder of everything she had accomplished. And as Bridgette knew well, she had accomplished a lot.

Courtney suddenly spoke. "Tonight is the night that Heather died."

Bridgette "Yeah, I know," she answered softly. "DJ never forgets," she added, looking back at the man still distributing invitations and Christmas cheer around the building.

Courtney for some reason found this funny. She smirked like she knew something Bridgette didn't. "Of course he doesn't," she whispered.

Before she could respond, Bridgette got a call. She touched the hands-free on her ear and responded. "Falcon." She listened to the message and looked warily at her boss, knowing that this wouldn't sit well with her. "Okay, thanks.… Hey Courtney."

Her boss looked up, irritated. "Bridgette, what did we talk about?"

Bridgette looked tired. "Sorry. Miss…- oh why do I have to call you Miss Reyes? I'm your oldest friend ever. You've said so yourself."

The other woman sighed. "Bridgette. If I have an asistant who goes 'hey Court', here and there, the rest of the staff are gonna think they can treat me like that too. And though I could easily give them a scare to let them know exactly who I am, it's easier to just give a good first impression and be done with it," she said. "You understand. Now what was the message?" she said before Bridgette could respond.

"Mrs. Richardson wants to see you."

"I don't know any Mrs. Richardson."

"Yes, you actually do. She works at the Manhattan Orphanage," Bridgette reminded. "She's called before, remember?"

"Oh, right," Courtney said, her face revealing she was not a welcome guest. "Just let her in."

Bridgette left to receive the visitor. Not too long after the door opened, and in came a voluptuous black woman in a business suit, with her head held high. Her sharp black eyes located the highest power in the room sitting behind the desk. She smiled.

"The Rhodes and Reyes Firm, I assume," she said, extending a hand which Courtney rose from her seat to shake. "Have I the pleasure of speaking to Rhodes or Reyes?"

"Reyes. Take a seat," Courtney said, as she did the same. "I'm afraid Miss Rhodes died three years ago. This very night actually."

Unlike Courtney expected, the woman paused and looked fazed, and then asked, "Is that why there's an office right next to this one that's all dark and empty? Was that hers?" she inquired with true care in her voice; while other, more professional business-people would have let it slide right away. Courtney instantly took mental note of this.

"Yes, that was hers," she confirmed.

The woman smiled. "I think it's cool what you're doing—leaving that office unocuppied. It's a nice tribute."

"It's not a tribute at all," Courtney responded. "It's only empty because I haven't yet found another fit to be my partner, that's all. Now, will you tell me what brings you here?"

It this had been a regular client, she would have been treated with much more courtesy. But Courtney had a pretty good idea of what this woman's business was. Once again, it was that time of the year.

"Of course," the woman said, recovering quickly from Courtney's statement. "Well I'm Mrs. Richardson, I represent the Manhattan Orphanage, you can just call me Leshawna," she said boisterously, and Courtney had to supress a cringe. "We're actually collecting charity from a number of companies. And we see you've been doing increasingly well this year so…" Courtney couldn't help but smile at this, knowing that this was all thanks to her. "…we thought you would be in position to contribute to the institution." That is when Courtney stopped smiling.

"The answer is no," she interrupted.

"No, see, we're looking to improve our building," the woman went on spilling information despite the negative. Obviously rehearsed, Courtney took mental note. "I don't know if you've passed by the Orphanage lately, but it's practically falling apart!" she laughed. "Plus the economy's been rough this year, and we need an incentive if we want to get the kids toys for Christmas."

"I am really not interested."

Leshawna looked thrown off. "I don't think you understand, Miss," she said. "This money will be used for food, toys, health services, to improve the building so it's no longer dangerous falling on our heads!"

Courtney looked bored as she waited for her to finish. "Okay, I listened to all you had to say, and I stand by my previous statement," she said. "Now please stop wasting my time."

Leshawna pursed her lips together, letting her irritation shine through. This wasn't business anymore; now it was personal. "Okay. What do you think happens when we don't have enough money to buy everyone presents? Are we supossed to tell them Santa's ran out of cash? Are we supossed to tell them he ain't real?"

"Why yes, let them learn the truth!" Courtney snapped. "The earlier the better! Look, Mrs. Richardson, frankly I have no time to worry about someone else's kids. I have a company to run if you didn't notice."

Leshawna looked at the woman in front of her with disgust. She opened her mouth to say something, but Courtney held up a hand.

"Furthermore," she started. "I recommend you do not keep telling me stuff like this. Because if your institution is really falling apart, as you put it, then it is liable for closure," Courtney watched the color drain from the woman's face. "And I happen to have the power to do that."

Leshawna was quiet for a long time, staring at the woman in front of her as if she was seeing the face of the Devil itself. Then her expression fell into one of fury; she collected her things and got up. Without a word, she stomped out of the room, slamming the door on her way out.

Not long after, Bridgette came back in. "Accountancy needs you to sign this," she said, leaving a few papers on her desk.

As Courtney quickly read through them, the blonde directed her view to outside the office. She had seen Mrs. Richardson storm off, and she could form a good idea of how the meeting had gone like, parting from the knowledge that Courtney did not do charity, so she didn't need to ask; but she asked anyway.

"What just happened?"

Courtney scoffed in response. "Those damned orphanage directors," she said, poison in her voice. "It's for the kids, they say! I bet you anything those blood-suckers keep all that money to themselves."

Bridgette looked at her. "Can I ask you something?"

"Sure," Courtney sighed.

"Why don't you ever give charity, if you know what it's like to be poor?"

The other girl froze. She looked up at her assistant with a glower, and for a moment her professionalism was gone, and instead her eyes clouded with the most primal, disruptive type of anger.

She could not believe she had gone there.

After a while, Courtney regained her composure. She leaned back on her seat and folded her hands togehter.

"You give money to poor people all you got is a problem," she said, back in her haughty tone. "You don't even get a thank you. And you can rest easy knowing they're going to spend it all in drugs."

"You don't know that."

"Well, neither do you," Courtney said with a shrug. "You don't ever know. That's why it's best to just take care of yourself." She produced a pen and signed the papers she had been brought. "Let that Mrs. Richardson take care of her institution, and I'll take care of mine."

And with that, she considered the conversation over.

However, before Bridgette could attempt to respond, Ezekiel poked his head inside the office. "Miss Reyes?" he asked, hesitating, staggering and finally staying in the threshold since she hadn't signaled him to come in.

"What's the matter?"

"We have a situation, eh."

"Well come up here! I can't very well read that file situation from here!" In the time it took for her to say those words, Ezekiel jumped and crossed the room at full speed, arriving to her desk with a paper which Courtney practically snatched from his hands.

"Where's this report coming from?"

Ezekiel smiled. "From me. It's actually my first report, eh," He stood proudly, his cheerfulness not disminishing when he saw Courtney quickly skimming through the pages he would have preferred had been read through carefully and given feedback on.

Courtney's brow furrowed. She looked up at the man with a tired expression. "Very funny. Where's the real report?"

Ezekiel felt his heart sink. "I…I…" he said in a small voice, "that is the real…-" and then he was quieted by one disbelieving look from his boss.

"This is below average. Not even an acceptable first draft." She slapped the report to the table, folded her arms and looked at Ezekiel with angry disappointment. "I am not pleased."

The man was a shadow of his confidence self that had entered the office; he stood awkwardly, staring at his feet not knowing what to say that his boss would like to hear.

Courtney rolled her eyes, "Just tell me what it says."

"I-it's aboot Johann Avery's resignation," he informed.

"What?" the woman shrieked. Ezekiel recoiled and pulled his toque over his eyes like he wanted to be swallowed by it. Courtney stood up and rounded her desk. "Are you serious? Oh that is just great! He was supposed to manage the interviews for newcomer lawyers so I could focus on the meeting with Orrick!"

Bridgette intervened, "Courtney, it's okay, you can focus on the meeting and take care of the freshmen later," she proposed blithely.

The brunette turned to her. "No, those freshmen are a vital part for the meeting!"

"Oh. Uh…" the blonde faltered, but kept trying to appease the brunette, "well look, don't worry, I'm sure it'll all come together any…-"

"Call Trent Rivers in here!" Courtney order, completely forgetting he wasn't in the building the first time she had requested him.

Fortunately for Trent, he was in the building when Ezekiel went to fetch him, and they were both able to escape Courtney's wrath when they returned to the office shortly after she had given the order.

"Mr. Rivers, what is this about Avery bailing out on us?"

"He accepted another job in Arizona," the man quickly explained.

An eyebrow was raised. "Something better than what he had here?"

"No, something lower. Apparently he just found out his girlfriend was pregnant and he wanted to live with her."

Upon hearing this Courtney's whole face darkened in a scary way. "Are you telling me," she started, taking steps towards the man. "that I lost my senior lawyer some skank in Arizona, right before the biggest meeting of the year!"

"I, uh, um…" Trent trailed off, unsure of how to answer to that.

Courtney rolled her eyes at her employee's blubbering and rounded her desk to fall back on her chair. "Fine." she sighed, massaging her temples. "I'll have to do it myself, as always. Those freshmen better arrive fast from Ohio."

Trent looked fearful at that. He looked back at Ezekiel, who signalled for him to go ahead. The green-eyed young man took a deep breath and braced himself for his boss' reaction.

"That's… kinda the other problem," he finally said, and promptly turned on the TV Courtney had on a corner.

On the TV, a blonde woman was talking in front of a map of the United States.

"…snow storm compares to some of the greatest ever. In Ohio, all highways and interstates have been shut down after several crashes. Officials expect the airlines to cancel all scheduled flights. In one dramatic rescue, a mother and three children…-"

Trent turned off the TV when he saw his boss looked like she was about to explode.

"UUGH Is everything conspirating against me!" she growled, making everybody flinch.

Bridgette came forward. "Courtney, calm down…-"

"How!" the brunette demanded. "There is nothing ready for Monday, and this meeting could make or break this company!"

"I'm sure they'll understand," the blonde said. "If you just explain to them…-"

"Wait," Courtney halted her. "…no." A thoughtful expression took over her face, keeping the other three in suspense for her decision. After a few moments, she seemed to find peace in her mind, and she straightened her back with a resolute disposition. She exhaled. "Yeah. I know what to do."

"You do?" Bridgette was surprised but happy she had found a solution so quickly. Then again, her friend was known for carrying out seemingly impossible deeds in the past.

Trend and Ezekiel just looked relieved. "In that case, Miss Reyes, if you don't need us anymore we'll go and keep working," Trent said catiously in behalf of the three of them.

"Go," Courtney dismissed as she sat back behind her desk. "And Bridgette when you go out,"

"Uh-huh?"

"I want you to send a memo to all employees. I want it to say that everybody in this company has to come to work tomorrow."

Ezekiel was the first to react, stopping dead in his tracks and snapping his head up and back at the woman, "Wait-What?" but a second later he met his boss' eyes and cringed.

Trent and Bridgette had also stopped and were gaping.

"Courtney, but… you can't," the blonde said. "It's Christmas tomorrow," a look from the brunette reminded her she did not care for the holiday, and she added, "Do you know what everyone's gonna say about working through Christmas?"

"Ask them how they'd feel about not having a job for Christmas," Courtney replied.

"Miss Reyes, w-with all the respect" Trent started waveringly. "You can't keep us here. People wanna be with their families, they want to go home a-and…-"

"Well they should have thought of that before," the brunette retorted. "Before slacking these last few days like they were already on vacation. And yes, I'm talking to you, Trent." The man's shoulders dropped. "Look, this is a problem, and I'm merely solving it the best way I see possible. With just one extra day we can really make it to that meeting, and I see no reason to waste that opportunity."

Bridgette looked at Courtney speechless as she talked; for the first time in their friendship looking at her with actual worry. She… wouldn't really keep them there, right? She was just trying to scare them… right?

Courtney looked up at her stagnant employees. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go, Bridgette, send that memo. And you two, find something to do," she sat back on her desk "there's plenty to be done—and plenty of time to do it."

The three looked at each other in silence, each silently asking the other to say something. Seeing as no one knew which path to take at the moment, one after the other they exited the office.

Once outside, the three assembled and discussed the situation at hand, which they could hardly believe themselves, but none of the three could see a way to change their boss' mind. The grim outcome seemed to be inevitable.

Watching from her office, Courtney could tell Bridgette had given the memo, because hours later, the building seemed to be submerged in a dark cloud. From jumping around in zeal and handing out wreaths and exchanging Merry Christmas'es between each other, the employees had gone to moving slowly from a place to another, carrying their heads low.

Courtney watched from her office and shook her head. Truly, they acted like children would in this same situation. She was still, after all, allowing them to go to that Christmas party of theirs. She had given them vacations for years! They were her workers; they were supossed to see things her way, to work as much for the well-being of the company as she did.

Hours went by. After Courtney's decision, nobody thought of going to her office to tell her or ask her anything. It actually worked for her, as it turned out to be easily one of her most peaceful ever days at work.

Little before closing time, Courtney was sipping on a coffee –her seventh that day- as she cleared up her desk, when there came a knock on the door, and then Bridgette peeked her head in.

"Can I come in?"

The brunette made a resigned motion with her hand, already knowing what was coming.

The blond gingerly walked in, not saying a word. She walked near the shelves and started picking through Courtney's decorations.

"Any chance you'll change your mind?" she asked her as she held a little marble elephant. "You know, calling off Christmas?"

Courtney tiredly rolled her eyes, but decided to give the woman a proper answer. "Bridgette, if they love the holiday so much, they can celebrate it later," she explained, "in January, when the busy season is over."

The blonde shook her head. "Court, I know you don't celebrate Christmas. But other people do." The brunette rolled her eyes and continued collecting her things. "Do you even know what you're ruining?"

"Hey! I'm letting them go to that party of yours, aren't I?" the woman defended herself. "Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

"But we can't enjoy it if we have work to look forward to tomorrow," Bridgette explained. She paused to look at the other woman, and her clear eyes shone with something indescribable. "You truly don't get it do you?"

The two girls were faced each other in silence. They were a foot away from the other, but an invinsible barrier separated them. Neither of them understood the other; or so it seemed.

The silence was upsetting, and Courtney broke it with a swift accusation, "I know why you're here."

"Oh, really?" Bridgette couldn't keep herself from snapping.

"Yeah!" the brunette replied. "And forget it. Don't think that because you're my friend I'm gonna let you off the hook."

"What?" Bridgette hissed, hurt in her eyes. Who was this person in front of her?

"That's right," Courtney said. "You thought you could just waltz in here and talk about friendship, and I'd tell you to just go home to Geoff, and let the others come to work tomorrow," she folded her arms. "You know what, Bridgette? Wether you like it or not, you're still part of this company. You might as well start acting like it."

"Courtney, I don't even—" Bridgette's voice broke in frustration, and she looked like she was about to cry.

"What?" the brunette demanded.

Bridgette looked as if she was about to respond; she opened her mouth but hesitated, then she shook her head and walked past Courtney, towards the door.

Courtney watched her, and picked her coat from the hanger. "Take your stuff," she said coldly.

The blonde stopped, turned to take her coat, and then resumed her exit. Once at the door, she paused, seeming to change her mind again, and took a couple of deep breaths. Without turning, she muttered something Courtney didn't hear.

"What was that?" the brunette demanded.

"I said I feel like I don't know you anymore!" Bridgette said, looking at her. "I always defend you, you know? From them," she pointed to outside the office to indicate the rest of the company, even though it was just the two of them left in the building. "Because I feel like you're still my old friend somewhere down there. But you make it harder every day. Every day, you get worse." Her eyes were glassy now.

Bridgette stood, looking at the other girl as if she expected her words to suddenly start affecting her if she stared hard enough; the other girl looked on with no expression on her face, almost as if she was counting the seconds for her to leave so she could resume her life.

The blonde finally turned around and walked out. The door slammed, dismissing what was probably Courtney's only friend left.

Yeah well. Wanted to give the most famous Christmas story ever a try :) I probably won't be able to finish in time for Christmas, but oh well :/

If any of what comes out of Courtney's mouth when she talks about something company or law-related makes any sense, it was purely accidental.

~The Lighthouse