Chapter 14

Christmas morning arrived and I knew I had to get out of bed. I really didn't want to move. I would be content to snuggle beside Carrie all day. But I had to get the kids to their mother's and see if the office was still standing. I had been gone for 9 days. During that time the only contact I had with the place that provided my paycheck was when the writer from the Holiday Ball stopped by.

Even when I would take the kids on vacation I would usually call in a couple of times during the week to make sure things were OK. But not this week. I really hadn't even thought about it.

The publisher was in Aspen so I figured the inmates could run the asylum for a while. After all, what's the worst thing that could happen?

My staff was professional. They knew how to write a story and they knew what constituted unsuitable content. They knew where to be and what to do when they got there. I also had a group of mid-level managers that ranged from exceptional to passable. I counted on the exceptional ones to keep a tight rein on the passable ones.

I also knew that the woman who had sat outside my office since long before the office was mine would arbitrate any dispute that arose in my name. I could fall into a year-long coma and the paper would continue unabated. But the place almost grinds to a complete halt if Elizabeth Drayton takes a sick day. She is the only person who knows where the pens are stored and the bodies are buried.

I make it a point to be very deferential to her — mostly so I don't wind up with the other corpses she has buried. Rumor has it Elizabeth has been married 5 times and outlived every one of them. On the surface she is the sweetest, most mild-mannered woman on the planet. But I have heard her use language that would make a trucker blush when she felt affronted.

But her biggest skill was making a person feel like a complete idiot all the while she was smiling sweetly at them or talking to them in a gentle tone. I had first-hand knowledge of that skill on only one occasion, which is a wonder in and of itself. However, I had watched from the sideline numerous times as she filleted a young writer or an ad rep or even the publisher without them even realizing what was happening.

I am extremely happy to say that Elizabeth Drayton likes me and she feels protective toward me. Otherwise I would be reduced to spending afternoons alternating between drinking shots of vodka and bursting out in to tears in my office — as the woman I replaced had ended up.