Chapter 11
ELEVEN
Jim
I stared at the stack of contracts on my desk like they’d multiplied overnight…hotels, private jets, drivers for party buses, catering. They were logistics so detailed that it looked like my company was staging an invasion, not a holiday party.
I opened the top folder and nearly choked. Four hotels were booked solid for December: The Beverly Wilshire, Waldorf Astoria, Bel-Air, and Century Plaza.
As if it were possible, the next page was worse. Mitchell Air fleet allocated for domestic routes. Supplemental capacity booked with Stonecrest Aviation for my international offices.
Everett Stone? My wife had somehow roped in Everett, my personal fucking competition in the aviation industry.
I leaned back, pinched the bridge of my nose, and hit the intercom to my secretary. “Inform Karen she’s needed in my office. Now.”
“Right away, Mr. Mitchell.”
My event coordinator appeared as swiftly as the elevators could transport her from the second floor to the top, where my office was located.
She walked in, tablet in hand, and looking far too calm for someone standing in front of a man whose wife had just hijacked his Christmas planning in the most insane way.
I stood next to my desk and tapped the contracts. “What the hell is this?”
She didn’t flinch. She sat across from my desk, bringing me to take my seat once again. “Phase one of the Winter Extravaganza planning, Mr. Mitchell.”
“I’m sorry, phase one?” I sighed. “Are we suddenly building a goddamn hotel instead of planning a simple Christmas event?”
“This isn’t our portion of the planning,” she confirmed.
“I’ll say,” I answered. “Please tell me, then, whose portion is this, and why does it seem you know more about it than I do?”
“Mrs. Mitchell’s planner has been coordinating through me to streamline approvals. This is the first phase of your wife’s plans for her event.”
First phase, my ass.
“Her planner,” I repeated flatly. “That being Catalina Veléz, I presume?”
“Yes, sir.” Karen kept her voice steady. “She said it would be more efficient to work through the channels you already trust instead of directly with you.”
For a second, I just stared at my longtime event planner. Then I laughed under my breath. “Savvy woman. This was most likely Avery’s idea, though. Keep the general away from the battlefield while she pushes the pieces across the board.”
Karen shifted, lowering her voice as if Avery might be hiding in the walls. “To be clear, I only facilitated. Your wife wanted you to see the full scope of the first phase’s plan before she asked for signatures.”
I smirked, flipping the folder closed. Of course she did. My wife didn’t plan Christmas. She staged campaigns. And apparently, she’d found herself a general in Cat in this cute little Christmas war we’d started.
“Very well,” I answered.
“Cat mentioned you wouldn’t be too shocked with any of these terms because, apparently, you’ve agreed with your wife to bring in everyone who is under Mitchell and Associates’ umbrella to Los Angeles, even the overseas offices…if they’re able to close down their businesses and attend.”
I smirked. “I didn’t truly believe my wife would go through with her idea; it is a monumental feat to bring everyone to one city for a holiday they should most likely wish to spend at home with their families.
But I am aware that most will be unable to close businesses for that span of time, as that would be next to impossible and understandable for them not attending. ”
She smiled. “For the ones who can attend, I would assume that, if they’re anything like the rest of us, Mr. Mitchell, they’d gladly accept a lovely family vacation during the holidays.”
My lips twisted. “Right. Okay, for our planning? What have you come up with after the suggestions I emailed this morning?”
“First of all, I think it’s adorable that you and the girls are doing this.
A children’s toy drive, the whole North Pole feel for the guests.
I believe it will be lovely. The treats alone will be very special, and yes, the Velvet Crumb did confirm their catering for the sweets portion of the event. ”
I smiled, proud of myself for planning with the girls. “Very good. Avery may have Cat, but I have you and my girls, and ours is sure to impress everyone in the company and have them forgiving and forgetting the cheese board and champagne mishap.”
“That was a bit of a Scrooge move on your part,” she chuckled.
“It was different and unique,” I defended myself, yet again.
She arched her eyebrow at me, “That’s still the hill you want to die on?”
“In fact, it is. I had no malice or ill will in mind when I planned it. I believed everyone would appreciate it.”
“Just like Clark Griswold appreciated his one-year membership to the Jelly of the Month Club?”
“Just tell me what you’ve come up with, Karen,” I said, annoyed that everyone kept bringing Scrooge and Griswold into this.
“I actually brought it up with me, as I thought that’s what you were calling me in for,” she said as she slid another rendering across my desk.
The Shrine Auditorium, only I barely recognized the damn place.
The entryway was draped in garland and frosted evergreens, snow drifting down the stairs.
The auditorium itself was painted into a North Pole fantasy—towering trees, enormous candy canes, a thirty-foot sleigh stage, and elves handing out cocoa.
I arched a brow. “You want me to turn the Shrine into Santa’s workshop?”
Karen didn’t blink. “Your daughters suggested the North Pole. We refined their vision into something…grand.”
I flipped to the next page. The main hall was lined with gingerbread houses and toy soldiers. Beyond it, the auditorium was transformed into a ballroom with a tree so massive it scraped the balcony.
“That is where your bonus reveal happens,” she explained. “Guests will be ushered in, you’ll present the checks from the stage, and then the room transitions into the ball. Orchestra, snow machines, champagne towers. Your daughters will start the ball with the lighting of the tree.”
I leaned back in my chair, staring at the spread. It was bold. Corporate. Family-driven. The kind of spectacle that screamed Mitchell knows how to throw Christmas.
“Fine,” I muttered, smirking despite myself. “Book it. Doll up the Shrine like the North Pole. You know my rules in where we spend our money for contractors for my events. And …if Avery wants a war, let her see how a general commands.”
“Excellent, sir,” she rose, smiling. “The dates?”
“Well, if everyone wants to spend Christmas with their damn boss this year, I suppose the best way to beat Avery to it is to host our event on Christmas Eve.”
Her lips twisted, “Mrs. Mitchell has already reserved for that night.”
“How? I have nothing here that says she’s even booked a venue yet?”
“Sir,” she smiled sympathetically at me, “she has the Huntington Gardens on tentative hold for that night.”
“You know what, I could easily play the Grinch and not approve any of this nonsense that she and that battle axe of a luxe planner are trying to create so I can have my event on Christmas Eve.”
She chuckled. “If I may suggest something? Perhaps you should stop falling into character with all the Christmas villains and just have fun with your daughters and wife.”
I nodded. “Fair point,” I said. “Book our venue for the day before Christmas Eve, so it will precede Avery’s.”
“Very good.”
Karen walked out of my office, and I couldn’t help but smile at all this bullshit.
I swear, when the invoices came for this little loving family competition that we’d found ourselves in, mainly because of my pride and ego, it was going to be one hell of a bill.
And after paying for all these festivities, I should be named Forbes 500 Man of Christmas—not just the year.