Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
Avery
I woke up to the soft hum of wind outside the chalet windows and the faint smell of Jim’s usual Christmas cinnamon rolls and coffee drifting up from the kitchen.
For a moment, it felt like Christmas morning.
Everything was quiet, warm, and filled with the peacefulness Jim usually brought every morning, waking us all up with his delicious cooking.
Then, I picked up my phone, and peace officially died.
“Dear God,” I muttered to myself, squinting at the notifications lighting up my screen like a slot machine. The hashtags themselves were enough to cause a minor panic.
#TaxWriteOffChristmas
#SpiritNotSpreadsheet
#GrinchInGucci
#BillionaireSantaFail
#NorthPoleBougieAF
#BillionaireBastard
Oh, perfect. A full-blown PR snowstorm. Again.
I felt bad for Jim this time, though, because that’s not what his party was about.
Sure, it started off as some fun Mitchell family competition, and now it was the whole twisted mess of bullshit attacking my husband for going overboard for his Christmas party.
The first post I saw was a photo of Jim standing in front of his six-million-dollar Santa’s Village with that perfect CEO poker face. The Jim Mitchell expression that said, I built this, but I’m already mentally editing the budget for next year.
Then came the taglines:
@OfficeTeaDaily: When your boss says,
‘It’s about the joy,’ but the receipts say,
‘It’s about the depreciation schedule.’
#SpiritNotSpreadsheet #TaxWriteOffChristmas.
#BillionaireBastard
I groaned, dragging a hand over my face. “Oh, Jim,” I said softly.
The man pulled off a magical, breathtaking party last night. Was it over the top? Yes, but even I hadn’t expected how much he’d poured into it. A literal winter village carved out of the mountains. Real sleighs. A lightshow. A toy workshop that made Disney look like it was on a budget.
It had been stunning. But more than that, it truly was heartfelt.
Jim and our girls created this, and sure, spending millions for a man like my husband was like spending a couple of hundred bucks for the average person, but that’s just how Jim’s life was in the business world and the mindset he lived in.
And somehow the internet turned it into a fiscal crime scene.
I scrolled to the next post:
@TheLuxuryLeak: Rumor is the horse-drawn sleighs
alone cost half a mil—
But hey, at least Santa gets to write it off.
#TaxWriteOffChristmas #GrinchInGucci
#CompanyPartyScam
I covered my laugh, “Oh my God. They think he did it for a tax deduction.”
From the doorway, I heard Izzy’s little voice call, “Mom, Dad says breakfast’s ready!”
“Be right down!” I called, tossing the phone on the bed and exhaling. “God help us all.”
The dining room smelled like cinnamon rolls, maple donuts, and roasted coffee beans. The long wooden table looked like something out of a Christmas magazine, complete with flannel napkins, Jim’s cinnamon rolls stacked high, and everyone still half asleep but glowing.
Jake, Ash, Spencer, Nat, Collin, and Elena were already there. Jim sat at the head of the table, coffee mug in hand, phone facedown beside it, which told me everything I needed to know.
“Oh no,” I said, sliding into the chair beside him. “I assume you’re aware of your latest trending holiday theme?”
He gave me a dry look over the rim of his mug. “Aware? I’m practically trending in every time zone.”
“Grinch in Gucci is my favorite hashtag,” Collin said, already scrolling. “Oh, wait, no. Shit, here’s a good one: ‘When you spend seven figures on Christmas and still forget the spirit of giving.’” He looked up. “Classic, Jimmy.”
Ash grinned. “This one says, ‘A holiday miracle—for his accountant.’” She held her phone up for everyone to see. “#TaxWriteOffChristmas is trending everywhere.”
Jim rubbed his temple. “Fantastic. The hired elves will be thrilled.”
“You saw that, too?” Spencer chuckled.
“What was the hashtag…Elf Gate?” Jim took a sip of his coffee. “That was the first one that lit my phone up. What was the other?”
“It was, ‘Jim Mitchell’s Christmas gala looked like the North Pole had a nervous breakdown,’” Nat added with a laugh.
Jake laughed. “To be fair, that snow machine malfunction was epic. It did look like the North Pole had a nervous breakdown.” He forked another bite of his cinnamon roll, “So, that isn’t twisted truth.”
“I told them not to double the output pressure,” Jim muttered, “but, of course, they didn’t listen to me.”
I rested a hand over his. “Hey. The party was beautiful, Jim. The employees loved it. When the snow machine malfunctioned, it looked like we were inside a Christmas snow globe. It was pretty fucking magical, actually.”
He gave me a weary, crooked smile. “I’m thankful you loved it, gorgeous, because I’m done trying to make the internet happy.
They can call me Scrooge, Santa, or Spreadsheet Claus…
I don’t give a damn. Last night, my people were laughing and acting like kids on Christmas morning again. That’s what it was all about.”
And there it was, the soft truth behind the exhaustion. The man who’d built an empire out of precision and deadlines had built a winter village just to make other people smile…and the internet still found a way to crucify him for it.
Across the table, Nat was laughing at something on her phone. “Oh my God, Avery. Look at this one. Someone edited Jim’s face onto Scrooge’s, where he’s counting money.”
Spencer leaned over her shoulder. “Hey, man, you make Scrooge look sexy.”
Jim sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “At least there’s that,” he half-laughed.
“Well, I’m thrilled to announce,” I said with a bright smile, “my party tonight fixes all of that nonsense.”
Jim glanced at me, one eyebrow raised. “You really think a movie set full of fake snow and Christmas carolers is going to change the internet’s mind about me?”
I smiled, reaching for my coffee. “No. But a speech about what Christmas really means might. Which you will be doing, so I hope you have another one prepared.”
My eyes darted to Collin and Jake, my partners in crime, who would be kidnapping the man around seven o’clock tonight.
Then, this whole prank about him being Clark’s boss and Scrooge would work through his speech as to why his wife planned his party this way.
My party would be known as the redemption party.
Jim tilted his head, studying me for a moment before a faint smirk curved his mouth. “You’re planning something, aren’t you?”
I lifted my mug in a toast. “Let’s just say my party will help explain exactly why you’re trending on the internet as the billionaire who went over the top for his Christmas parties this year.”
“You sure about that, sis?” Collin eyed me with a smile. “The internet loves to break when it comes to twisting up shit about Jimmy.”
“Well, my party planner just so happens to be Catalina Veléz, and that woman would never allow one of her events to trend with anything less than the perfection she puts into them,” I said. “Now, give me a damn cinnamon roll while they’re fresh.”
That evening, everything was set for the guys to kidnap Jim and haul his ass to my party wearing Frank Shirley’s Christmas pajamas. The girls were still here, but I would be bringing them to Ash’s place after I staged my meltdown in…three…two…one….
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. No!” I shouted in horror.
“What the hell is wrong?” Jim said, rushing out of his office and into the living room where I sat next to the fireplace.
“My party,” I shrieked. “It’s not going to happen.”
“What do you mean? What happened?” Jim questioned, sitting supportively at my side.
I showed him Cat’s staged text and waited for him to read it.
“That’s impossible,” he said. “There’s no way they can shut the set down without—”
“Cat forgot to get the final safety checks done by the city,” I said, trying to think of something sad so I could cry and make it believable.
Crying wasn’t my thing, and Jim knew it. Instead of crying, I usually got pissed. That would be more believable to the man.
“That seems highly unlikely,” Jim said. “Cat is known for saving shit like this, not failing her clients. Ever.”
“I know! That’s why this is more shocking and upsetting than anything.”
“I’ll call her,” he said.
“Jim, I’m not a child. I don’t need you to call Cat and chew her out on my behalf.” I sighed. “Fuck!”
“Av, I’ve got millions poured into this event, and as the one who bankrolled it, I demand an explanation,” I said. “People have traveled from across the globe to this event at Christmastime. It’s unacceptable.”
“Fine. Call her,” I snapped in the bitchiest way I could to keep the drama high. “It’s not fixing anything.”
“Why don’t we do this? We’ll redirect the employees back to the venue from last night. They’ll love it,” he said in a supportive tone. “We’ll fix this, gorgeous. I’m only sorry you’re finding this out now.”
“Isn’t that how all of these things go?” I said, trying to cry again but failing.
“Hey, I prefer to spend Christmas Eve alone with my family anyway. Last night was fantastic, and I’m sure it will live in my employees’ memories for a lifetime,” he grinned.
“Well, the whole point was to make up for the cheeseboards you were going to legit screw over everyone in the company with.”
“Exactly,” he said. “Perhaps we put on Christmas Vacation or Scrooged with the girls and just enjoy a quiet Christmas Eve together.”
“We never watch those movies until after we unwrap our traditional Christmas pajamas,” I answered.
“Then that’s what we’ll do,” he said.
“Okay,” I said, inwardly too excited that this was going better than planned.
Even Cat was on standby with her excuse, just in case Jim called, but the man easily opted to relieve my fake stress by watching the Christmas movies he would be starring in within the next hour.
All I had to say to the girls was that we were unwrapping a present early, and they were in the living room in a flash.
After the girls opened their matching onesie pajamas, I unwrapped a stunning silk gown and robe that Jim had purchased while overseas. Then, Jim finally opened his.
“This looks strangely familiar?” he chuckled, holding a replica of Clark Griswold’s boss’s pajamas: the matching robe, slippers, and all.
“I was so excited to give those to you. It was a little thing I thought would be funny since we’re all calling you Frank Shirley this year,” I shrugged, trying to act depressed.
“Well, let’s all change and we’ll put the show on in the movie room,” Jim announced.
“What?” Addy said. “No. We’re going to Mom’s party, aren’t we?”
“Sadly, Mom isn’t able to have the party tonight,” Jim said, “and instead of being upset, we’re just going to have a simple family night here tonight.”
Fuck. I had to get out of here with the girls, and I needed to come up with an excuse quickly. Goddammit, I really didn’t think this through.
“This is all so depressing,” I said, being the drama for them.
“No, it’s not, Mom,” Addy said. “We can make it fun.”
“Yeah, like Dad said,” Izzy chimed in. “Just us.”
I probably should’ve let the girls in on this part of the prank.
“While you guys decide which movie to watch, I’m going to put my pajamas on and hopefully, that will help your mother be less depressed.”
Jim winked and then left the room. This was my shot. My only shot to scoop the girls out of here, get them to Ash’s, and with thirty minutes before Jake and Collin arrived, I hoped I could nail this.
“Why don’t we go get Chinese takeout and surprise Dad?” I said.
“We want to change, though,” Addy said as Izzy nodded in agreement.
“So do I,” I said, “but this is the season of giving, and getting Dad’s favorite takeout dinner on Christmas Eve is a super way to repay him for the party he gave us all last night.”
“That’s true.”
“All right, I’ll tell Dad we’ll be back in thirty minutes,” I said, jumping up.
After letting Jim know we were getting takeout—which he totally believed—the girls and I piled into the Rover.
Things were moving right along, so we could get to the Paramount set and change into our Scrooge-era attire.
Jake and Collin were officially in the clear to roll up to the house in Eddie’s RV and kidnap my husband, who was most likely already dressed in Frank Shirley’s pajamas and robe.
This was going to be the most fantastic and fun night ever.
I called down to the estate security office and requested that all cameras be turned on and recording, because this shit had to be documented.
From the moment that RV rolled into the driveway to the men tying up Jim in ropes and putting him inside, I needed everything on record.
Jake and Collin had better have installed the cameras inside that rickety old RV, too.
My party was going to take the grand prize and break the internet in all the best ways. Once the online trolls heard about it, they’d be wishing they were part of our family, our fun, and our festivities.