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.

There was a stack of messages from Elizabeth on my desk — ranked in priority from her perspective — which immediately became my perspective.

Carrie sat in the chair opposite my desk and looked around. There was not much in the way of decoration in my office. I had pictures of the kids on the desk and print outs of particularly impressive stories or designs taped to the wall.

"You need some wall stuff," Carrie said.

"Like I need a hole in the head," I replied. "I don't want this place to have a homey feel because I don't want to spend any more time here than I have to."

Carrie nodded.

"Your house feels the same way as this office," she said. "You have pictures of the kids on the walls but nothing much more. It is a rather sparse existence."

I really had no answers.

"I would suspect it is more common among single and divorced men that you think," I said. "Knick-knacks and other do-dads are not my thing."

"Knick-knacks and do-dads?" Carrie said with a laugh. "How about some kvetch? Maybe some bric-a-brac?"

Her faced turned mischievous.

"Or maybe a hoo-ha?" she said. "Perhaps you need a hoo-ha at your house. How about some hoo-ha at your office? Maybe some hoo-ha in your car?"

I about spit my coffee across the room.

"I happen to have a hoo-ha that I'm not using," Carrie joked. "I would be happy to share any hoo-ha that I might own with you."

That is one offer I hoped to take her up on.

"So, what's on your agenda today?" she asked.

"Today I actually have to work," I said. "No games of Solitaire for me. Today I'm acting as the city editor and the news editor. That means I'll give the last read to the local stories and help select the wire stories that appear. Because today is a holiday, it will be mostly wire. We had a photog going to a homeless shelter for the holiday giving picture and I'll have someone do cop calls. The front page centerpiece is about retail expectations for tomorrow. But mostly we'll just fill it with wire. The press guys are starting at 8 p.m. instead of midnight so we should be wrapped up by about 7."