“How can a microwave be like a Stephen King novel?”

Maybe it was the free-flowing alcohol at the office holiday party, or the array of delicious sugary treats lining the table, gathering the small crowd.

“Oh! Are we talking about Misery? I loved it, the movie too.” One of the men near the edge of the group interjected, his drink slouching around in his clear plastic cup. It was possible his level of enthusiasm went up; the further down the knot in his light bulb tie traveled. Judging by the fact that his tie looked more like a long scarf looped mid-chest, it might be safe to say he loved everyone and everything right about now.

“Nah man, this is more like Christine, if anything.” The guy in the reindeer themed ugly sweater added, turning away from the group he has listened to for the past few minutes. While eating the holly shaped sugar cookies, the conversation drew his attention, but now he found a like-minded sort to have a discussion of his own with. With a couple cookies for the walk across the room, light bulb tie and reindeer sweater took their Stephen King debates on the road, with a woman tailing after them. Cookies always went well with more drinks.

Jen shifted around the cookies on the platter, keeping it clean and filling in the gaps. “I don’t know if I would call it that, the microwave just has a mind of its own.” Shrugging, she picked up her soda again. “Sometimes it works, sometimes it dies for a year or so, it just has a mind of its own. But the oven makes cookies perfect, about 10 minutes every time.”

“So wait, the oven is magic too?”

A nervous sip of her soda, Jen had no idea how a talk about the recipes for various cookies she made turned into a verbal tour of the strange habits of the appliances in her kitchen. Maybe they were right; could her house be trying to tell her to leave it?

With a name like Vincenza and a level of contained beauty to match such a pretty sound off the tongue, you might think she would be the life of the party. Or at least in attendance, yet this first year as her assistant had been a huge learning curve for Matthew. The biggest lesson to date and the one he battled again today was simply that the prettiest women can also be the worst workaholics. During the year, it had not been such a big deal, as there had been plenty of crazy oddities that popped up during what one might call a down week. Yet he first noticed it around Thanksgiving, and his suspicions got confirmations all through December.

Shaking his head, Matthew continued past a group; some guy in a reindeer sweater making out with Susan from PR, while another guy with an untied tie chanted “Chris-tine. Chris-tine.” Maybe not the life of the party like that, but Matthew had made it his mission and his holiday gift of sorts, to get his boss to have a small amount of fun. As expected, he opened her office door to find her deep in a scattered pile of paperwork. Was it odd that he admired her for it? Vincenza had this way of tearing apart everything on her desk, for the length of time she sat at it, but all would be neat and tidy when she left. Just in case anyone ever needed something from her desk, or on the rare chance that someone other than himself was to enter her office and place something there. Unfortunately, Matthew had realized he was both her enabler and guarding protector, at least in the office setting. No one dared to leave anything for the boss, and there were too many times he just let her be controlled chaos inside her office. A new year meant a new plan, didn’t it? At least Vincenza set a new record, being in the middle of eight separate issues past seven pm. Her frustrations about not being able to pick up the phone to call and discuss accounts rolled off in waves that greeted him at her doorway.

“You do know there is a party outside your door right boss?” Matthew had taken care to keep his appearance fresh enough, all his suit pieces still on and comfortable. Yes, he had loosened the knot in his tie, but barely noticeable. Comfortable and yet professional, that was his favorite look, as he clinked the plastic flutes in one hand and hoisted the bottle he snagged from the bar. “Hopefully a little of this will entice you to crawl out of this office.”

Without even looking up, one hand typing in numbers, the other moving papers around, Vincenza shook her head. “I don’t drink while I am working. You know that these bills and claims are due the week after New Year’s.”

“That’s why this is sparkling cider, and the due date is two weeks away. You can find five minutes to discuss something other than work.” It seemed like a talent, how her arms moved in unison, and yet completely of their own will, similar to an octopus. The ability to move without restriction was probably one of the reasons Vincenza did not wear anything form fitting. Even anything showing too much arm in the summer got some kind of cover-up jacket. Her current green sweater could be seen as an attempt at being festive.

Sighing, she finished the totals for the page she worked on and looked up. “One glass, and a small break.” There was no need to admit that the numbers all looked the same at the moment, and the noise outside her office made it hard to concentrate. Certainly not worth mentioning that her assistant knew her favorite drink, even if he would never know why the bubbles made her feel like giggling as they popped under her nose. Matthew moved quickly, as if her agreement was too good to be true, so he acted before she could change her mind. Still, there was an elegance and poise to his movements, one that fascinated her picky obsessive ways. “What non-work subject did you want to discuss?”

Pouring a glass for himself as well, Matthew started a toast. “To another productive year over; and a happy, healthy, wonderful new year?” With a clink, they spoke cheers and agreements to his well-wishing. Afterwards, he leaned against her file cabinet, crossing his long legs at the ankles. “We could discuss which of the employees are going to regret certain decisions tomorrow, or we could talk about how even the elves take time off between Christmas and New Years.”

A swivel in her chair, for a moment, to pretend she could see outside her office, into the sea of staff. “Why aren’t you out there making bad decisions with the others? You are not on the clock and don’t have to be here.”

“Neither do you.” When she turned back and returned her attention to the desk and not him, Matthew stepped in between Vincenza and the desk. “I have done all I can to help ease your stress, but you only manage to find ways to put more on yourself.” Exhaustion had him settling onto the papers on her desk, later grateful his black pants covered any ink stains. “Is it wrong to want to see my boss happy so that, maybe, my job won’t be as stressful?”

The contemplating tilt of her head, with her hair falling just so, caused a noise of frustration from him. For all the eagle-eyed details she caught that saved them from trouble down the line, Vincenza could be incredibly clueless. Something in Matthew wanted to take her and shake her up, even if it battled with his good sense. There would be a time down the line, for now, he had to start as a simple distraction.

“Like I said, even the elves take time off. You know there must be all kinds of elves if you really think about it. Not just the toy building kind, or the ones that run the workshops, but someone has to do the books right? Even if the pay is candy canes, someone has to do that. I bet there are elf veterinarians, even doctors, and nurses, because I know I can’t hammer a nail without hitting my finger…” The slight signs of a smile, as she tried to hide it behind her drink, gave him the courage to continue on this illogically logical train of thought. “I bet there are elves in our everyday life that we don’t even realize are there, they seem super nice and helpful instead…”