Chapter 7 Violet
Violet
The same Christmas goat wrapping paper was on my desk again.
This time the package was larger.
I’d looked up the lyrics to the Twelve Days of Christmas song, and I realized it was going to get harder and harder for whoever was doing this to keep up with the theme.
Today’s gift, if the trend was continuing, should be three French hens. And I knew no chickens would fit in this box. Plus, my landlord might have something to say about that. In fact, there were a lot of bird gifts coming my way if my secret gift-giver kept this up.
I tore into the package, a little less carefully than before, too excited to find out what my mystery gifter had gotten me.
A tiny laugh burst out as I pulled out the cross-stitch box.
It was a locally made cross-stitch kit from a place called Beaux Arts. The enclosed card promised that they had the best art classes on Red Oak Mountain, but there was still no note from the sender.
The craft kit design had three chickens wearing berets. The Eiffel Tower stood in the background with a Christmas wreath slung over the top of it.
It was the most amazing thing I’d ever seen in my life!
I instantly made plans for where it would go once I’d finished it. I had a Christmas pillow collection. I’d do the cross-stitch, then turn it into a pillow for my couch at home.
Lenore leaned over. “What’s going on over here, Violet? Who keeps giving you stuff every day?”
With a tiny flush on my cheeks, I told her, “I have no idea. I kind of thought it was you. It’s not?”
She shook her head, then studied the cross-stitch kit. “That’s a weird gift.”
“Not really. I think whoever’s doing this is following the Twelve Days of Christmas song.”
“The one with the geese?”
“And the pipers piping.”
“And the milking maidens?”
We both started laughing, and I whispered to her, “I have no idea how they’re going to pull that one off.”
The gifts had me thinking, though. Whoever was giving them to me must like me. But the only man I had eyes for was Easton. After last night, it had cemented in place.
He wasn’t just a big serving of mountain man eye candy. He was also a really nice guy.
Easton was quieter than some men, slower to share his words. But also funny. He had a hidden wit about him. And I liked the silence I’d felt in between our conversation last night. I’d driven out to the lodge, and he’d shown me the row of vanities, each with a marble sink.
Then we’d wandered through the empty lodge. He’d given me a tour and shown me the work that he’d done and the projects that were still in the planning phase.
My work was always in front of a computer monitor. I handled accounts for construction projects all around the country, but I’d never set foot on a job site before. It was nice to see the reality of what I was accomplishing with my job.
But Easton, he was the man doing the real work. I could order items within budget, and track projects, but it was men like him swinging hammers who made the finished result happen.
I thought back to the way our hands had brushed for a moment at the lodge, and a shiver of desire shot through me, just like it had last night. And then when he’d put his hand on my back? I’d almost had a full-body orgasm right there in the lobby. Easton was a dreamboat, and I’d fallen hard.
Lenore’s voice broke me out of my reverie. “Tim’s coming. We better get back to work.”
Tim was our boss, and I knew better than to daydream on the clock in front of him. I buried my head in the computer, getting started on the next task for the day.
Day four of my mystery gifts was a postcard with four crows in a phone booth. I chuckled.
Calling birds. My Secret Santa definitely had a sense of humor.
And on day five, when I opened the outer cardboard box containing my latest gift, I laughed loud enough to accidentally draw some attention.
Inside there were onion rings. I pulled out one soggy ring after the other, five in total.
Golden rings. I’d always appreciated a good wit.
Then, on day six, there was a big present on my desk, and a tiny crowd gathered around it.
“Who’s giving you all this stuff?” Peter asked.
That crossed him off my list.
Nicole said, “I think it’s romantic.”
I shook my head. “It’s not about romance. It’s just… someone thinking it’s cute to do all this.”
Lenore leaned in, her eyes shining brightly. “Open it!”
Everyone was getting involved in my Secret Santa mystery now.
Today was six geese a-laying. I couldn’t imagine what could be in the package. From testing it, I could tell it was something soft and big.
Peter, Lenore and Nicole all watched as I carefully unwrapped the paper, smoothing it out and saving it for later. Then I peeled off the tissue paper while we all looked on in confusion.
Peter announced, “It’s a pillow? Who gives someone a pillow for Christmas?”
A small tag was sitting in the tissue paper, and I picked it up, instantly spotting a logo. “Look, it’s from a company called Six Goose Farm. It’s a down pillow.”
Nicole said, “I know that place. They’re past Juniper.”
Hm. So far everything had been local. Even the onion rings—which I did not eat—had a business card for Herman’s Foods in the box. Herman’s was the local grocery store. We had one here and one in nearby Deer Springs.
“I’ve been wanting a new pillow,” I told everyone as I tried to rack my brain.
Had I researched down pillows at work during my lunch break?
I must have, because the chance of it being a coincidence seemed unlikely.
Who would have known I wanted a down pillow unless they saw me looking at one on my computer?
I’d been getting rashes lately, and I’d switched to all-natural fibers. A down pillow had been one of those things I’d wanted to buy for myself someday.
But it looked like someday had already come.
I peered up at Peter. “Who do you think is doing this?”
He got a perplexed look on his face. “I don’t know. Probably one of the single guys who work in the office.”
Lenore asked, “Do you know which ones are single? Can you make us a list?”
Peter shrugged, already losing interest. “Sure. I can do that.”