The Eggnog Chronicles Read Online Free PDF

said.
    â€œNot anymore,” I said with a coolness I didn’t feel. “That’s my new policy. Keep your expectations low and you’ll never be disappointed.”
    â€œAh, but low expectations breed lackluster results.”
    I tilted my head. “Where the hell did you learn that?”
    â€œI don’t know,” she said, her eyes filling with panic. “Maybe telemarketing school! Oh, God, I have to get out of that place. The sales patter is seeping into my brain.”
    â€œBut you love your job—at least most of it—and you’re so well suited for banking.” Unlike me, Emma has always enjoyed working with numbers. She clings to the solid sense in calculations; the surety and reliability that one plus one will always equal two (unless you are me, balancing my checkbook, and then everything seems to equal a zero balance). “Stick it out until the next rotation, kiddo. They wouldn’t have put you in the training program if they didn’t realize how smart you are.”
    â€œDo you think?” Emma asked as Duke delivered our salads smoothly and disappeared again. “I’m such a wreck. Sorry! It’s still killing me, Jonathan and the weather girl. Talk about public humiliation. I became the ditched one—the dumpee—and all you have to do is tune into Weather Watcher on channel six to see why.”
    â€œOh, Emma, don’t go there. It’s not about him.” We’d been over her ex’s exploits way too many times. “It’s seasonal blues.” I stabbed a grape tomato. “What’s that line? I think it’s Shakespeare. ‘Now is the winter of our discontent.’”
    Emma turned away, her bottom lip quivering in an unexpected show of emotion. “Yeah, but I usually don’t feel that way until after Christmas.”
    â€œYou know, I’ve read that the post-Christmas blues are really a product of lack of sunshine. Our spirits are up for the holiday, and then suddenly it’s over and we’re cornered in darkness, stuck in the darkest phase of the year. In Australia, people don’t suffer post-Christmas depressions. Instead, they’re bummed out in July. Weird, huh?”
    Emma swallowed and wiped one tear away with a pinky finger. “Let’s move to Australia. I hear they have like, eight men for every woman in the outback.”
    â€œOh, Emma,” I sighed, batting at fake berries on the garland with one hand. I was torn between trying to make my friend feel better and defending the right of my feminist sisters to find happiness without a man as arm candy—even if that candy was just a Christmas accessory. “You’ll find someone. Maybe not for this Christmas or the next, but if you’re setting your sights on companionship, I’m sure you’ll accomplish your goal. You’re a wicked taskmaster when you focus on something.”
    That tweaked a smile from her. “I am relentless when I establish a goal. It’s one area of my job review where I always excel.”
    â€œI, however, waiver and wobble. I’m dying for a smoke.”
    â€œGood. That means you must be feeling better.”
    I tried to inhale through my nose and shrugged. “Not just yet. But it’s good to know those antibiotics are doing their little sock ’em, rock ’em thing.” I knew that antibiotics take a good twenty-four hours to take effect, but having launched my campaign to cheer Emma up, I was on a roll. “Oh, I forgot to tell you, Ricki called. She’s booking her flights.”
    Swallowing, Emma nodded. “Excellent. It’s so nice of you guys to let me in on your dinner.”
    â€œDon’t thank me. You’re doing most of the cooking.”
    â€œI make a mean crown roast.”
    â€œI am impressed. I’ll supply the wine.”
    â€œAnd eggnog. Don’t forget the eggnog with a touch of brandy.”
    Honestly, I have never