Chapter One: O' Christmas Tree (A is for Advent)
Elsie stood on tiptoes and stretched as far as she could reach, ignoring her blouse which rode up with the movement. There was no one here to catch a glimpse of any bare skin.
"Mrs Hughes!"
She jumped in fright at the sound of her name echoing loudly through the otherwise empty floor. Too late she realised her sudden movement on top of the ladder had made her unbalanced. She reached out to hold onto something, but finding purchase amongst the foliage would only lead to the whole tree toppling. Instead, she made the split second decision to let go.
She'd heard the soft thud of footsteps behind her. She would trust him to catch her.
He let out an audible whomp as she landed in his arms. He held her firmly though, as she knew he would.
"What on earth were you thinking?" he hissed close to her ear. "You could have fallen!" Though his words lacked sympathy for her situation, his arms tightened where they were wrapped around her body; his thick forearms were settled comfortably just under her chest.
"I did fall," she reminded him as he dragged her safely off the bottom rung of the step ladder, placing her feet firmly on the just-polished blue vinyl flooring. "If you hadn't come in here and frightened me half to death, I would have managed without mishap."
He made that grunting noise at the back of his throat. The one that indicated he was irritated.
"What were you doing anyway?" he asked after he'd spun her around to face him. He fingers softly gripped her upper arms; holding her steady as she involuntarily swayed with reaction from her close call. "We have plenty of staff who could adjust whatever bauble you were imagining was crooked. How would it look if you fell? I can imagine the headline now, Executive General Manager of Granthams Falls along with the Company's Stock."
She rolled her eyes. "I'm sure you and marketing could put some sort of positive spin on it," she said as he finally let his hands drop from her waist.
"I'm not a miracle worker."
His tone was dry but light enough for her to unfurl her hand and reveal the decoration she'd held safe this whole time.
"I was trying to place this on the tree," she admitted softly.
He blinked slowly at the glass angel resting on her palm. Like her, he knew it had belonged to Sybil Crawley. Without another word he reverently plucked it from her and climbed the step ladder himself, easily placing it on one of the highest branches.
After he'd climbed down, he squeezed into the space behind the tree and flicked on the wall power outlet, bringing this year's Christmas tree to life.
Wordlessly they folded and stowed the ladder behind the nearest counter, collected their coats and briefcases, and ran through a series of security requirements before departing the store. Once outside, they jostled for position on the pavement to view their handiwork.
Passers-by had gathered already, even at this late hour. The fully trimmed, in the traditional trademark Granthams colours of blue and silver, Christmas tree shone a ray of hope into her heart.
Her companion spoiled the effect. "Perfect placement. The lights are reflecting on the displays in nearly every department on this floor. I'm sure it will tempt many window shoppers to come and get a closer look tomorrow."
She swung around and stared up at him, disbelievingly.
"That tree is a huge expense," he huffed, obviously interpreting her look correctly. "As is the electricity. I need some sort of compensation for our investment."
Pursing her lips she turned to the kerb and hailed the next available taxi. "I'll see you tomorrow, Mr Carson."
"Goodnight, Mrs Hughes."
She tugged, frustrated, on the seat belt, but before she could clip it into place, her guilty conscience had her relenting. She opened the taxi door. "Charlie, I-" She could see his familiar shape trudging down the street, already well out of hearing range.
"You going or not, love?"
She blinked at the driver and rattled off her address, looking over her shoulder one more time as they pulled out into the traffic. Charles Carson was, as usual, so close yet just out of reach.