Page 24 of Not Home Alone

Greg the tall blond elf says, “Mr. Grant Moody? I’ve got a very important message for you!”

Judith claps excitedly and says, “It’s a Christmas-gram! Someone sent you a Christmas-gram.”

“I don’t want a Christmas-gram,” I tell Greg. “You can go.”

“Well, it’s been paid for, so you’re gettin’ it!” He whips out a phone from some hidden pocket or crevice inside his elf tights—I don’t want to know—and places the phone on Judith’s desk. The music to that insanely high-energy Christmas song that I hate starts playing. I hate it because the lyrics are filled with longing, but the melody and production are so loud and upbeat. Why can’t sad Christmas songs just be sad?

Greg steps toward me until I hold my hand up, halting him. Not one step closer, Elf man. He locks his crazy eyes with mine and starts singing at me more than to me.

(Christmas) I’m hanging more lights!

(Christmas) I’ll make snowmen of foam!

(Christmas) I’ll sing all day and night!

(Christmas) Till you get out of my hoooome!

It goes on like that, for two verses and a chorus that goes:

I’m decking all the halls,

but it’s not like Christmas at all,

’Cause you’re not supposed to be here.

You aren’t even fun when you’re drinking beeeeer!

He plays air saxophone for the sax solo, and that’s when I turn off the song and hand his phone back to him.

“Please tell the person who hired you that it’s not her home.”

“Oh, this is an anonymous gift, so I can’t tell you who⁠—”

“I don’t need you to tell me anything. I need you to leave. Should I tip you or something, Greg?”

“Yes.”

I pull a twenty-dollar bill out of my wallet and hand it to him.

“Much obliged! For another twenty, I can throw in a⁠—”

“No. Please go away.”

“You got it!” He gives Judith a hug and strides out the front door, like a grown man who isn’t wearing an elf costume.

Judith is frowning at me. “That wasn’t very nice, Grant.”

“I agree. It was a very rude song.”

My dad leads Voss out of his office. He glances at me as he buttons up his suit jacket and mutters, “What was that all about?”

“Wrong number.”

Voss holds out his hand to shake mine. “It was good to finally meet you, Grant. I look forward to doing business with your family.”

I shake his hand. “Safe trip,” is all I say to him.

I go to my office and shut the door. I don’t need a lecture from my dad about how he’ll sell the holding company to that guy if I don’t take over. I know what’s up. But I’m not ready to make a decision yet. I have options. I don’t have to do anything. Voss will ruin the company and the town, but it’s not my responsibility. That’s not what I want, and I don’t really believe it’s what my dad wants. He’s trying to force my hand, and I’m not falling for it. I’m not tied to this place or anyone in it and I haven’t been for a long time. I’ll do what’s best for me. Like I always do.