CHRISTMAS REWIND EXPRESS

  A CHRISTMAS SHORT STORY

  KATHRYN KALEIGH

  To learn more about Kathryn Kaleigh, visit

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  www.kathrynkaleigh.com

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  CHAPTER 1

  I did not dislike Christmas. Not to say that I particular cared for it either. Over the past ten years I had learned that if I simply paid little heed to it, it would quite simply slip past without me being affected significantly one way or the other.

  Standing on Fifth Avenue, I waited for my car. The guy, Trent, at the hot dog stand had added frozen hot chocolate drinks with peppermint swirls to his menu. It was quite good actually.

  Someone standing nearby had gingerbread cookies in one of their bags.

  It was getting close to Christmas. Three days left. And then, thankfully, everything would settle back to normal. As it stood right now, I was having more trouble this year than normal getting in touch with any of my clients.

  Office closed. Out with family. Back in touch after the holidays.

  The wheels of justice may go on hold, but my billable hours did not.

  The sky was cloudy, but the city lights were bright and flashy. Every billboard had something Christmassy on it. There were little tree decorations strategically placed on every lamppost. Trees. Huge ribbons draped over everything. Jingle Bells spilling from the speakers.

  Even I found it hard to completely ignore the festive vibe in the air. The excited chatter from other shoppers was contagious. Fortunately for me, I was impervious.

  It had yet to snow this year and the weather forecasters seemed to think that the season’s first snow would be on Christmas Eve. Personally, I didn’t think the snow was going to wait for Christmas Eve.

  If there was one thing I knew, it was snow clouds. And there were snow clouds banking over the Hudson.

  When my phone buzzed in the pocket of my long powder blue cashmere wool blend coat, I juggled the two bright red shopping bags in my hands and tapped my air pods.

  To get some space so I could have a phone conversation, I had to shoulder my way past a man sporting ear muffs. Tourist. And a gaggle of overly dressed women wearing heels and flashy jewelry. Society. AKA clients.

  “Olivia,” Manny said in my ear. Mansfield Trechelle, Esquire to be exact. “I need you to be at the gala early.” His voice overpowered the Christmas tune spilling out of the nearest department store.

  I paced away from the curb. Down the festively decorated sidewalk, past a display of red Christmas balls twice my height.

  “As always,” I said. My car would wait for me. After all, it was my car.

  I stopped at the display window of a high-end jewelry store. A model toy train laden with powder blue boxes wound its way through the tunnels and hills of the display.

  It chugged its way through a little picturesque town. A white church with a tall steeple. A general store. Storybook houses.

  Snowflakes—ingenuous twinkling lights perhaps—drifted through the air, giving the whole thing a magical air.

  It blew its little whistle and I heard it. Even with the noise in the background the air pod in my right ear, I heard it.

  In that instant… Just that quick… I flashed back to my hometown of Whiskey Springs, Colorado. Although I had spent the first nineteen years of my life there, I had tucked that memory neatly away in a compartment in the back of my mind. Sealed and vaulted.

  “Olivia?” Manny said. “Are you listening to me?”

  “What? No. Bad connection,” I said. “I’ll be there early. Don’t worry.”

  “I need you to meet with the owner of the company. We need to land this deal.”

  “We will. Don’t worry.” I glanced at my watch. “I have to call my driver. He’s late.”

  “I’ll send a car for you,” Manny said.

  “Don’t even think about it,” I said, interrupting him. I did not need a man rescuing me. I was quite capable of taking care of myself.

  “Make sure you dress—”

  “Bye Manny.” I disconnected. I didn’t need Manny telling me how to dress. I’d spent the last three hours choosing the right dress for the occasion. Just because I always dressed for the courtroom didn’t mean I did not know how to dress for a black-tie gala.

  So there. I sent a quick text to my driver.

  ME: ETA?

  JOHN: Five minutes. Traffic.

  Of course. Everything was traffic. I could have just taken the subway. It would have been so much quicker.

  But partners did not take the subway—not even junior partners. Partners had cars and drivers.

  Sometimes I missed taking the subway. Watching the people. Relishing being isolated in a sea of strangers.

  But not today.

  The streets were too crowded with Christmas shoppers.

  I envied them a bit. I had no one to buy presents for. I’d sent my paralegal a generous bonus and a fruit basket. Personal assistant got a poinsettia and a Starbuck’s gift card.

  If the spirit moved me, I bought myself something for Christmas. I had not been moved this year. Being the ten year anniversary, this year was more poignant than most.

  Or maybe I was just getting older.

  Finally, the car pulled up and John got out to open the door for me.

  I settled in, glad the shopping part of the day was over. But now I needed to get a second wind for tonight’s gala.

  It was going to be a long night.

  As John pulled away from the curb, I saw the latte he’d picked up for me.

  I smiled. Traffic my ass. He’d gotten me a coffee.

  I picked up the festive red cup and let the first sip fuel my brain cells.

  How anyone functioned without caffeine was beyond my comprehension.

  Twenty minutes later, I was headed up the steps to my townhouse. Definitely could have walked. But the traffic was brutal both on the street and on the sidewalk. As overdone as it seemed, it was better to be in the car.

  At least John didn’t play Christmas music.

  CHAPTER 2

  I felt a bit out of place arriving early at the hotel for the gala.

  Although I would have been much more comfortable in one of my business suits, I got no reaction one way or the other from anyone. Not the valet. Not the concierge. Not the other guests wearing regular clothes.

  I’d gone with a silver dress, eschewing traditional red or green fashion of the season. The strapless dress had a sweetheart neckline with sleeves that stopped at my elbows. The full floor length skirt, just barely touching the floor rustled as I walked.

  The saleslady had called it her favorite. “A dress fit for a princess.” I don’t know about being a princess, but it was by far the prettiest and most elegant dress I had ever worn, much less owned.

  I questioned myself for buying something so impractical. Maybe it was my Christmas present to myself. So maybe I had bought myself something after all. At the time I had justified it as a reward for making junior partner, but it could be a Christmas gift to myself also.

  I checked the time on my phone as I walked toward the empty conference room. Manny had not said how early I needed to be. Just early.

  Then I saw him pacing back and forth.

  “There you are,” he said, catching sight of me coming his way. Manny was wearing a formal tuxedo and I suddenly did not feel quite so very overdressed.

  Manny had been a senior partner for a couple of years and he had been granted the dubious honor of being my mentor. Normally I would have been matched with a female partner, but at the moment, there were none.

  I had no complaints about Manny. He had been about as helpful as anyone could ask. And to be completely honest, he was about as close to being my friend as anyone else.

  “Come here,” he said, taking my arm and steering me in the other direction. “Look,” he said. “The man asked for you by name.”

  “Me? Why?”

  Manny looked at me curiously. “I don’t really know. I guess he did his homework and made his choice.”

  I just shrugged. “Okay.” I had my own caseload, so I wasn’t worried about that. But my cases were assigned to me. I wasn’t exactly known outside of my firm, so it was odd that someone had specifically asked for me by name.

  “Why are you worried?” I asked.

  Manny shook his head. “I’m not. You’re ready to go solo.”

  Something was odd about this conversation. “You’re acting odd.”

  “Busted,” he said with a little grin. “I’m going on a sabbatical.”

  “A what? Why?” When did that even become a thing?

  “My wife is having a baby… twins… and we’re going to live in the country for a year.”

  I forced myself to close my mouth as I just stared at him. I must have stepped into some kind alternate reality.

  “When did all this happen?” I asked.

  “While you were busy making junior partner,” he said.

  “Oh.” I honestly did not know what to say. I think I thought Manny had a wife. I did not know that he was expecting a baby or babies. Our relationship did not go that far below the surface of the law firm.

  “Let’s don’t keep Mr. Johnson waiting.”

  Mr. Johnson. The name caused a hitch in my heart, but I quickly shoved it aside.

  “I’m ready.”

  “You look good,” he said.

  I glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.

  He held up a hand. “I know it’s against the rules to say so. Don’t sue me.”

  “I don’t have time for all that,” I said. “Besides, why would a girl be upset about a compliment?”

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

  We stepped into the small private room off the main convention area.

  Two men stood looking out the window, their backs to us.

  “Gentlemen,” Manny said. “I found the one you want to talk to. The best of the best.”

  I walked right up to the two men. I shook hands with the first man, a forty-something business man.

  Then I shifted my attention to the other man. My hand outstretched, a business smile on my face, I froze.

  When his hand touched mine, every nerve ending in my body woke with recognition.

  It had been ten years.

  And Benjamin Johnson had that same heart-stopping smile that haunted me any time my defenses were down enough to let regrets torture me.

  “Olivia,” he said, taking both my hands in his. A simple compliment would have been much less invasive.

  But there was something about his eyes. The spark and twinkle that I remembered was not there.

  CHAPTER 3

  I stood at one of the little round tables on the fringe of the crowded conference room. I stood alone by design. I’d met everyone I was supposed to meet. Talked to everyone I was supposed to talk to.

  Holding a glass of champagne, I took my second sip in two hours.

  The waiters, wearing white tuxedos had been kind enough to keep my glass fresh. No one had noticed I was using it merely as a prop.

  “Thanks for coming early,” Manny said, coming to stand next to me. “Everything is going well.”

  “Glad to be of assistance,” I said, holding up my glass.

  “Don’t forget we’re having breakfast with the partners in the morning.”

  Of course we were.

  I may not be able to get in touch with any of my usual clients, but the firm’s partners never slept. Why else would they schedule their annual Christmas breakfast the morning after a gala?

  And it might be my first partner breakfast, but I knew enough to know that as a junior partner I would leave with a list of new assignments that would send me scurrying back to the office.

  That tomorrow was Saturday made that even more definite. Weekends meant nothing in the cut throat world of mergers and acquisitions and senior partners delighted in torturing junior partners by burying them in more work than any person could possibly handle.

  We worked anytime needed which meant all the time.

  Right now, however, my concerns were a world away from senior partners.

  My focus was on Benjamin Johnson.

  I watched him across the room. Even if I had not recognized his face, I would have recognized his laugh.

  He was different now. Not just the gold wedding ring on his finger or the charcoal formal tux he wore. There was something deep inside him that was different.

  He and I had made it through our first year of law school attached at the hip.

  That year had been the happiest of my life.

  Then he had transferred.

  Apparently he had gone in a different direction. Instead of finishing law school, he had gotten his MBA and was president of a marketing company. This marketing company was looking to acquire another. A smaller company.

  Why had he purposely sought me out? For that matter, how had he even found me?

  Maybe he had tracked me down just to torture me. By hiring my firm, me specifically, he would have license to do just that for an indefinite amount of time.

  But that did not answer the question that burned deep in my soul.

  Why?

  And why now?

  My phone vibrated. It was my driver.

  JOHN: Got in accident. I can’t make it.

  Damn. My hands shook as I texted him back. As much as I pretended to hate having a driver, I liked John. He was a good man and he took care of me when I didn’t even know I needed it. Like when he’d brought me coffee earlier today.

  ME: Are you ok?

  JOHN: I’m ok. Going to hospital to be checked out. Car did not fare so well.

  ME: I’m just thankful you’re ok. Let me know if you need anything.

  I tucked my phone back into my pocket.

  Driver or no driver, I was ready to go home. I’d asked John to pick me up at nine. It was just after eight. I realized that I had been waiting for him so I could get out of here.

  With a quick glance around the room, I decided there was no time like the present. Manny was deep in conversation with some men I didn’t recognize.

  I refused to look in Benjamin’s direction, even though I was acutely aware of where he was at any given moment.

  I retrieved my coat and headed out into the cold. My breath came out in a white fog. It was going to snow sooner rather than later.

  It wasn’t far to my townhouse. Not by subway anyway.

  The sidewalks were crowded. More so than they had been earlier.

  I walked the distance to the subway station and went down the stairs. Most people ignored me in typical New York fashion, but I did get a lot of curious looks.

  It wasn’t every day a woman wearing a silver ball gown got on a subway.

  I passed a trumpet player belting out Jingle Bells at the top of his lungs. Most people ignored him, too, unfortunately. He was actually quite good.

  Reaching the gate, I looked around for a MetroCard ticket machine. Instead there was a booth. With an actual person sitting behind it. A gypsy looking woman.

  Since I seemed to be the only person without a ticket, the gypsy looking woman stared right at me.

  I straightened my shoulders and walked right to her. Probably some gimmick for the tourists. Well. Didn’t matter. I needed a ticket.

  “Fifty dollars,” she said.

  I blinked at her, my phone in my hand.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I just need one token for one stop.”

  “Not available,” the woman said.

  “Not—” I just wanted to go home. “Fine.” I held up my phone for her to scan. It wasn’t worth the argument. The tokens didn’t expire anyway.

  She quickly scanned my phone.

  Then she slid a ticket across the counter.

  Without picking up the ticket, I just looked at it. My name was printed across the front of the gold ticket in large bold, red and green print.

  “What is this?” I asked.

  The gypsy kept her eyes on mine.

  “You are about to board the Christmas Rewind Express. It will take you to a place far, far away. You can stay there or you can return. If you decide to return, you must do so by Midnight Christmas Eve.”

  When she finished, I just stared blankly at her.

  Then I grabbed the ticket and twirled around heading to the subway.

  I was supposed to have a MetroCard to slide into the gate. But since I didn’t have one, I slid my little festive ticket into the slot. After a little whirling and stamping sound, the machine spit it back out and the gate opened.

  I walked through and went to stand on the subway platform.

  Something for the tourists, I thought again.

  Did I seriously look like a tourist? I had been a New Yorker for six years. Sometimes I still got tripped up, but for the most part, I thought I had scrubbed the small town out of my system.

  I certain had scrubbed any desire to return to a small town.

  Waiting impatiently for the next subway, I studied the ticket. How had she printed a ticket with my name on it so quickly? Technology, of course. It was advancing so fast, no one could keep up. The gypsy probably wasn’t even a real person.

  I turned the ticket over.

  Christmas Rewind Express

  I just shook my head.

  A catchy gimmick, to be sure. Tourists would be taking these home and putting them in their scrapbooks or shadowboxes or wherever people kept their souvenirs now.

  As the subway pulled up and stopped, I realized I was the only person standing on the platform.

  Except for a couple of rats that scurried out of sight.

  Yes. It would be good to have John and my car back.

  I had forgotten just how bad things could be down here in the underworld.

 

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