A/N: The prologue of this piece was partially inspired by the second verse ("Rigging up the Lights") of the hilarious song "The Twelve Pains of Christmas," by Bob Rivers. If you have never heard "The Twelve Pains of Christmas," I highly recommend it.
Blue Box.
Harry hadn't taken public transport in years, but he felt he was up to the challenge. However, as he stood at the train stop, bundling himself against the cold and trying to make sense of the dizzying array of numbers and times listed on the wall, his confidence was starting to waver. He tried to look nonchalant, as though he did this every day, meanwhile wondering if this train was the right one.
It was the right one. And the bus afterwards (a honking double-decker) was the right one too. After twenty minutes of bravely navigating his route he arrived at London's premiere shopping center, where he stepped quickly off the bus and into the heated air inside. It was getting pretty nippy out there. He looked at his watch. If he factored in the time it would take him to get back to the office, he only really had about fifteen minutes here. Best get cracking on the present then, and save lunch for afterwards.
His first thought was a scarf. Stupid idea, but he figured it would be good for a "prelude" present and besides, Karen really did like them. He stopped in front of a department store window, caught by a lovely wool scarf on a mannequin. It was a brilliant, warm red with gold flecks running through it. He walked in. A few minutes later he walked out with a store bag, and continued on his way.
As he wandered through the brightly lit, marbled hallways festively decked out for the season, and walked by imposing department stores with their elegant display windows, he wondered what to really get Karen. She definitely needed something pretty and expensive, especially after last year's fiasco. Not a necklace. Not a CD. Definitely not a bracelet. Karen was one of those women whose hands were constantly in motion. She just barely tolerated her wedding and engagement rings – sometimes she wore them around her neck on a chain to keep them off her hands while she worked in the kitchen.
Harry wandered straight by the food court, lost in thought. He was just past the escalators when it hit him. Diamond earrings! Perfect. He congratulated himself. Karen really liked earrings, and diamonds, so that killed two birds with one stone. Now, the only issue was where to find his quarry. He looked behind him and saw that he had wandered just past a directory, so he hurried over and scanned down to the jewelry stores. A shop called Hilltown Jewelers was just two stores down from his location. He had never heard of the place and had no idea if they carried diamonds, but in the interest of his dwindling time he wandered in that direction.
The store was quiet and pleasant and not as busy as the department store opposite. The lighting was soft. Harry wandered around hunting for diamonds, weaving through a small crowd of shoppers and narrowly avoiding collisions. He was looking intently into a glass case (his fifth) when he heard the sound of someone clearing his throat. Harry looked up.
A terribly familiar-looking jewelry salesman was smiling at him. The fellow had protuberant eyes, bushy eyebrows, and friendly, slightly simpering expression.
"Are you looking for anything in particular, sir?"
Oh no. Oh God no.
Harry felt his jaw tighten. This was the ridiculously slow employee who had tortured him with the wrapping paper last year. The specifics of that debacle were practically etched on the inside of his skull. The total panic he'd felt, ducking away when Karen had burst in on them, grateful only for the fact that the salesman hadn't called out to him and really ruined things. The casual walk away, accompanied by his happily chattering wife. And of course, the frantic double-back: "I um, I need the restroom. You'll be all right here for ten minutes?" followed by a quick jog and the hasty exchange of money for a ridiculously frou-frou present at the jewelry counter.
He still remembered that painful wrestling match with the holly, poking his thumb bloody as he ripped the present to pieces and threw all of the dried flowers in the rubbish bin just so he could get the box home in his pocket.
Harry was not pleased to see this man again, a living reminder of everything that had gone so horribly wrong. He glimpsed the salesman's nametag. It announced RUFUS in elegant gold script on a burgundy background.
"Erm …" he stalled.
"Sir, I hope you don't mind my saying so, but you look rather familiar," Rufus said gently.
Harry looked at him in some surprise.
"Ah yes, I remember now," the jewelry salesman said cheerfully. "Gold necklace. Last year, when I worked at Brightford's. I have an excellent memory for pieces," he added, tapping his forehead. "How did your, erm, 'significant other' like it?"
There was a tense pause.
"Not very well, I'm afraid," Harry muttered. That was true enough.
"I am sorry," Rufus said, sounding quite like he meant it. "Perhaps some diamonds this year?"
"I … Y-Yes," Harry said, a little startled. It was like the man had read his mind. Spooky. "Do you carry them?"
"Certainly, sir. What sort of piece are you looking for?"
Harry looked blank.
"Necklace? Bracelet?" Rufus prompted.
"Ah," Harry said, cottoning on. "Earrings, actually."
"A man of taste," Rufus flattered. "Come."
He led Harry over a few cases to a rather spectacular display of diamond earrings. Harry wondered how he could have missed them on his first pass through the store. The display was alarmingly shiny.
"What shape does she favor?" Rufus asked as he prepared to open the back of the case.
"What?" Harry was staring at all the diamonds and feeling a little bewildered.
Rufus smiled up at him. "Does she like big, small, dangly, studs…?"
Harry blinked at him like a deer in the headlights. Rufus tried again.
"What shape is your … wife's …?"
"Wife's," Harry confirmed.
"Wife's face? Long, wide, somewhere in the middle?"
"Erm, middle, I suppose," Harry said. He'd never really considered Karen's face like that. All he really knew was that she was pretty. Wasn't that enough?
"Eye color?"
"Brown," Harry said, perplexed.
"Hair?"
"Ash blonde." Now he was getting a bit suspicious.
"Hmm. Does she have nice teeth?"
"Yes. Wait a minute, what the hell does that have to do with anything?" Harry snapped.
A customer nearby stared at them. Harry turned and glared at her and she backed off. He looked back to Rufus, who was fishing around in the case.
"I only ask, sir, because if a woman has nice teeth, she's much more apt to smile and attract attention to her ears."
That logic completely escaped Harry. He looked at his watch and sighed. He only had 5 minutes left here before he had to get back to the office.
"Ah, here we are, I think these will do nicely," Rufus said, standing up and putting a little box on the counter.
Harry examined the earrings. Rufus's ludicrous questions had actually served a purpose. The man knew his stuff – he'd picked out something amazing. They were elegant, large studs, undoubtedly very expensive, and perfect. Not ridiculous, but just flashy enough. For a second Harry could actually see them sparkling against Karen's face, catching the shine in her bright eyes. She'd love them.
"Brilliant," he said quietly, slightly amazed. "Right, erm, I'll have them."
"Excellent, sir," Rufus said. He took out an elegant blue jewelry box and carefully set the earrings inside. "Would you like gift wrap?"
Harry narrowed his eyes. An awful feeling of déjà vu swept over him. It was just as he opened his mouth and inhaled, about to say "Absolutely not," that he was struck by an idea.
"Yes," he said. "But we're doing it my way. No dried flowers, no holly, none of that nonsense."
"Fair enough, sir," Rufus said with a grin. "What did you have in mind?"
Harry handed him the bag from the department store he'd visited earlier and explained. Rufus followed his instructions to the letter, seeming almost indecently excited by this request. He set about grabbing shimmering clear gift-wrap and ribbons from the back while Harry located his cheque book.
"I have a second request," he said on impulse, when Rufus had reached the front.
"Sir?"
"I need an empty jewelry box and two cards."
"Yes, sir."
Rufus left and returned with a slightly larger blue box and two small white cards in envelopes, which he gave Harry free of charge. Harry put everything in his pocket and got started filling in the cheque. Rufus got going, cutting paper and ribbons at a reasonably quick pace. Just as he brought everything together at the top of the gift, it suddenly dawned on him why this man was getting a present and an empty box. The box was a decoy. The idea amused him.
"Is your wife a peeker, sir?" he asked, as he started tying things off.
Harry looked up from the cheque and raised an eyebrow. Rufus had no idea of how well he'd hit the mark. "The worst. What's the damage?"
Rufus told him and he wrote out the large amount for the diamond earrings, wincing slightly as he did so. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Rufus finished up. The resulting present looked rather like a large red Christmas ornament, except that at the top was an explosion of clear plastic and gold and silver ribbons. Rufus fiddled with his work for a little bit, teasing the wrapping just so before attaching a small gift card.
"It's lovely, sir. What a marvelously creative idea. You don't mind if I use this with other customers, do you?"
Harry was surprised. He never considered himself the creative type. "Not at all." He tore off the cheque and handed it to Rufus.
"Thank you very much, sir. I do hope this gift turns out well."
"That makes two of us," he mumbled, clicking his pen and putting it away. "Happy Christmas."
"Happy Christmas, sir," Rufus said. "Shall I put this in a bag, so you can carry it?"
Harry nodded. Rufus carefully put the fancily wrapped present into a store bag and handed it to him. With a quiet "thank you," Harry left and charged down the main corridor to the centre's entrance, his coat flapping out behind him a little. He had to catch a bus.
Back at the office, he said a quick hello to Sarah and headed to his own inner sanctum, where he took out the present and filled out the little attached gift card before stowing it safely in the bottom drawer of his desk. Just as he stood up, his stomach reminded him that he was overdue for lunch.
A few minutes later, Sarah was bored. She went into the break room, stretching her back as she walked. The sound of clanking things got her to hurry her pace, and she peeked in. Harry was prowling around looking for something to eat. She announced her presence with a cough; her boss looked up. He was holding a bagel in his mouth and it seemed that he had located a Styrofoam cup and a tea bag, but no water.
She found a pot and filled it.
"So … I take it you went shopping at the cen-tray rather than eat," she teased, taking the cup and bag from him.
Harry took the bagel from his mouth and set it down on a nearby paper plate. "It was the only chance I had,'" he explained, ignoring Sarah's pronunciation. She liked to say things like "cen-tray" and "thee-a-tray" every once in a while, just to annoy him. He found a plastic knife.
"What happened to your car, by the way?"
"Tyre trouble," he said evenly, slicing the bagel. "I'll have to call the shop. It's not drivable."
"That's no fun. I can give you a lift home, if you like."
Harry was not about to inconvenience her. "Sarah, you live on the opposite end of town. And don't you and Karl have something to do tonight?" He waggled his eyebrows.
To his surprise, Sarah didn't roll up the nearest magazine and smack him with it. She bit her lip instead. "We actually do. I can still help you out, though."
"That's very kind of you," Harry said sincerely, "But I'll be all right."
"Okay," she said in a sing-song, as though she didn't quite believe him. "By the way, I handed the calls that came in while you were at lunch, but uh, I think you'll have to be your own personal secretary for the rest of the day."
"How would that work?" Harry asked. He pulled open the sticky refrigerator door and began to search for the cream cheese. "'Thank you for calling, I'll put you through to myself?' People will think I've lost my mind."
Sarah started laughing. "I can have the secretary line put straight through to your phone."
"Fine," he said, finding the tub and prising it open. "Call downstairs and have them do it, but inform them that it's only temporary. Greg's coming in tomorrow."
"Greg?"
"Mia's replacement." He stopped for a moment, his knife in the tub. "That feels good to say."
Sarah smiled. "It's really a load off, huh? Well listen, I'm going to get back to work. But you'd better just grab something quick and man your desk. I think you have a meeting at three, and Accounting has been screaming at me to get those expense reports from you."
"Have they?" Harry said, scooping up some cream cheese.
"Wrestle them out of your cold dead hands, if necessary. Pillford's words."
Harry snorted, spreading the white stuff on the bagel. "Ooh, Pillford. Master of his numerical domain. I'm trembling."
Sarah giggled. "Hey, he sounded pretty serious."
"So am I. My knees are knocking, look."
Sarah rolled her eyes. "I'm going to have that phone re-routed, so hurry up in here, okay?"
With a flash of red hair she was out the door, and Harry stayed behind to finish making his poor lunch. He chuckled. Life at work was officially back to normal, with the exception of his sedan. He wondered briefly if he should report what Mia did to the police – for he was fairly certain it was Mia – but that would mean involving her in his life again when he'd only just got rid of her, so he decided against it. Besides, he was feeling too good right now to think seriously about unpleasantness like that.
The water was boiling, so he poured himself a cup of herbal tea (it smelled like peppermint, but he wasn't sure), picked up his bagel, and went into his office to hunker down and survive the rest of the day.
At 5 o'clock, Harry was finally done. He leaned back in his chair, down to his shirtsleeves, and stared at the wall in a bit of a stupor. The meeting was over, Accounting had its reports, and he finally had a second to himself, which he used to call the local auto shop about getting his sedan towed and new tyres put on. They were all backed up, said the man on the other end. They wouldn't be able to help him today, dreadfully sorry about that, and would he consider calling again tomorrow?
Harry rang off with a sigh and set about packing up his briefcase. He filed some papers and cleaned up a bit, locating his hat, coat, and scarf in the process and laying them on his desk. As he did this, something in his coat clanked on the wood. He tugged on his sweater, fished around in his coat pocket, and realized he had one more thing to do before leaving the office.
It only took a couple of minutes to write both cards. One he shut inside the box, the other he taped to the top, and the whole thing went into his pocket. When he got home tonight all he had to do was hang up his coat and wait for his wife's insatiable curiosity to assert itself. A little self-satisfied smirk ticked onto his face as he pulled on his brown overcoat and beige scarf. If Karen allowed her natural inquisitiveness to rule her and peeked in his pocket, then this clever teaser would drive her completely bonkers until Christmas Day.
One last look around assured him he had everything, and he snagged his briefcase and grey fedora from the desk and left, turning off the lights behind him. Harry wasn't terribly thrilled about finding his way home on public transport. The destination was more important than the journey in this case, though. However winding the road, it would eventually get him back to his house and family and he could figure out an arrangement with Karen for tomorrow while his auto was being fixed. This was just another challenge, a small annoyance. Riding the train never hurt anybody.
A/N #2: I had to include Rufus in this. The scene where he tortures Harry with the gift-wrap is my absolute favorite in the entire movie. The look on Harry's face… Oh, man. Hee hee!