Claudia Burgoa

Some hidden rule in the corporate world says holiday music must start playing on November first. Well, maybe it’s not the entire corporate world, but here, at Capell-Stanley Hotels, they do it every year. It’s nothing that a good set of wireless earbuds and a custom playlist can’t fix, though. I have nothing against the holidays, but after listening to “Santa Claus Is Comin’ to Town” on repeat for weeks, I’m more into the spirit of smashing a few ornaments—Office Space movie style—by Thanksgiving. Maybe I’ll use the four-inch heel of my shoe instead of a bat.

However, there are numerous advantages to the season. Many employees take time off to be with their families, so with an empty office, I can focus on work and tune out everything. I can wear scarves and hats without looking odd. Let’s get real. We can’t wear winter accessories in SoCal all year round.

The last and most important benefit is peppermint mocha.

My guilty pleasure. It’s the perfect drink with caffeine to keep my energy level up, fresh minty syrup goodness, and pieces of sweet childhood memories of candy canes.

If Santa really existed, I’d send him a letter asking for an unlimited supply of the delicious heavenly drink. I really should ask him to help me find the owner of Winter Valley Bed & Breakfast. After all, rumor has it he knows when we’re sleeping or awake, so he should know where we live.

My boss has set her sights on the building even though our portfolio contains no B&Bs. It’s not a fit, but she’s determined to expand.

The elusive Ms. Grant has avoided me since the end of September. I needed to close this deal last month, but it’s been impossible. How can I do that when Ms. Grant and her employees ignore my calls? My emails go unanswered, and even the letters I sent have come back to the office.

I should forget this, but when my boss sinks her claws into a new venture, she doesn’t let it go—ever. The innovative idea to acquire B&Bs and create a designer line of unique places focused on women who might need a weekend off in the middle of nowhere is frivolous . . . in my opinion.

As a woman, I would love a place where I can relax, but who in their right mind would pay a thousand dollars a night to stay at an exclusive B&B in the middle of nowhere?

We should discuss my ideas for improving our brand and remodeling all the current resorts.

As if I had invoked Satan herself, Aurora Sledge barges into my office without knocking.

Please, make yourself at home.

If she can do one thing like no one else in the world, it’s spear people with a glare while wearing a broad smile. I’m thankful she hasn’t disemboweled me—or any of the employees who work for her.

“Audrey, remember when I said we should own Winter Valley Bed & Breakfast before the end of the year?” she asks in that cold, clipped way she’s mastered.

I rub my arms with my hands. This might be LA, but it feels like the Arctic when she’s around. I like my job, and I don’t mind spending fifteen hours a day in this office.

What I hate is my boss.

It’s true what they say: we can’t have everything. I have the apartment by the beach and the dream job, but unfortunately, I have the crazy boss from hell who makes working here daunting.

I take a deep breath and answer. “If you recall, we’ve been trying to contact Ms. Grant—”

“I don’t want excuses.” She places her palms on my desk and leans close. How rude. “You know how I feel about my employees’ performance. I expect results. Make things happen. You’ll leave tomorrow for Winter Valley and don’t come back until we own the place.”

She turns around and leaves my office without another word. I sit on my chair, staring at the hallway and listening to “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year.”

It’s all lies. Nothing is wonderful at the moment. Last July was better when I went to Bora Bora to plan hotel renovations. Now I have to go somewhere cold and probably sad to save my job. Groan.

My mind races, full of questions. When am I leaving? Probably right now if you want to keep your job. How am I supposed to get there? You better check Google maps and be ready to climb any mountain as if your life depended on it. Most importantly, would anyone miss Aurora if I stab her, chop her into little pieces, and throw them to the sharks? I need to stop watching reruns of Dexter.

May I suggest watching less serial killer series and more feel-good movies?

I spend the rest of my day tying up loose ends on other projects, searching for how in the world to get to Winter Valley, and grabbing everything I need so I can work from my hotel room. Aurora might want me in the middle of Nowhere, Colorado, but she will have a hissy fit if I delegate any of my responsibilities while I’m gone.

Somehow, between organizing my trip and turning off my computer, I have received almost a hundred new emails. How am I supposed to leave my desk, the office, and the state when I’m needed here?

I should go to her office and remind her that my job description doesn’t include fetching me a new building.

But instead, like a dutiful compliance and marketing manager, I’m packing away my desk, wondering when I’ll see it again. They’ve ignored every method of contact thus far. Why the hell does Aurora Sledge believe in miracles? And why not go there herself if she truly believes we can win this?

The day can’t get any worse, can it?