Finding the Holidays

Three

This is a picture of Michael Fisher.

I walked into what appeared to be the lobby.  It had a mahogany counter which had a sign that read 'check-in'.  There were also some red-brown chairs and couches with a wood framed glass coffee table, atop a green wool rug, surrounding a fireplace.  Christmas wreaths were on every door and holly hung from the wood framed ceilings.  Even the mantle above the fireplace had a miniature winter city going on, with a Christmas tree and train, and snow on the ground.  But, then I saw a gigantic Christmas tree located on the right hand side of the room.  It had bright rainbow lights, ribbons, beads, popcorn, tinsel, and just about every Christmas ornament you can imagine.  Candy canes, gingerbread men and women, glass balls with fancy patterns, glass balls in plain patterns, bells, ballerinas, angels, nutcrackers, animals, even ornaments from sports teams and movies!  "Incredible isn't it?"  I turned to see a short, plump woman standing behind me.  She had short, auburn hair with bangs, and was wearing a red jacket over a black sweater, and she had black pants and shoes.  "Um..." I began, lost on what to say.

"I'm Mrs. Meade, darling.  Are you here to check in?"

"Er, yes.  Yes I am." I replied, "Try Lena Davis or Stefan Kingsley." 

Mrs. Meade walked over to the countertop and typed some stuff into a computer.  "Yes, I have a room for Lena Davis.  It's in building eight, in the candy cane section.  Room sixty four." She told me.

Wait, what?

"What's the 'candy cane section'?" I asked as I was handed a room key, which literally was a key attached to a block that said 'Room Sixty Four'.  

Mrs. Meade looked me warmly in the eye and explained, "We decorate our rooms each year with a holiday theme.  Two themes for each building.  Your building has the candy cane theme and the menorah theme.  You guys have your own little menorah!"

"Uh, that's great!" I said, forcing a smile.  Give me a break, was my inner monologue.  I don't need all these stupid themes and traditions, just give me a room for goodness sakes!  "You have a meeting with Michael in an hour." Mrs. Meade told me, snapping my thoughts back to present day.  You have enough time to maybe, get changed?"  She looked at my outfit.  I turned and saw that my entire dress was covered in gravel dust!  "Ah, crap!" I groaned, annoyed.

"Now, there's no need to fret, Lena.  I'll send someone to fetch your clothes and wash them." Mrs. Meade assured.

Does she know anything?  "My clothes need to be dry-cleaned, not washed." I told her in the politest tone I could muster.

"Do you think that a big resort like this wouldn't have dry-cleaning?" Mrs. Meade inquired and I could tell I made her miffed.  Whoops.

"Okay, well..." I fought for words.

"We'll send someone down to take it to dry-cleaning." Mrs. Meade told me, "All you have to do is get ready for Michael."

"Michael?  Who's Michael?" I asked.

"He's the resort owner's son.  He's handling the fact that...you are buying out our resort." Mrs. Meade explained, and I could tell that she was trying to mask that she was sad.

"Oh, um, thanks for telling me.  Have a nice day!" I said quickly.  I wanted to leave before things got ugly.

"Happy holidays-" I heard Mrs. Meade saying, but I closed the door.  Enough holiday stuff, I thought, let's get down to business.

An hour later I was walking back to building fifteen.  I had straightened my hair and changed into a black pantsuit, white blouse, black suit jacket, and black pumps.  "Okay," I breathed, "time to do phase one:  Negotiating."

Little did I know negotiating would be with a young guy.  This Michael person had piercing blue eyes, stubble from a shaven beard, and combed jet black hair.  He wore a blue suit jacket, brown pants and boots, and a pale blue collared shirt.  "Uh, hi!" I waved, as he met me outside of the building, "Are you Michael?"

"The one and only Michael Fisher." The man replied, sticking out his hand.  I shook it.  "We should go into my office." Michael told me and held open the door.  I followed him to his office, which was a quaint room with palr blue painted walls, and holly everywhere.  I sat down on the chair across from him and he sat down after me.  He slid me a bowl of gingerbread cookies.  "Mrs. Meade makes lovely gingerbread cookies.  Would you like one?" Michael offered.

"No thanks, I just ate." I said, even though it wasn't true.  I just didn't want to have one of them.  "Okay." Michael replied, but grabbed a cookie for himself.  I watched awkwardly as he ate.

"Should we get down to business?" I asked hesitantly.

"Oh right!"

I can't believe this dude!  That's what you're here for, moron!

"Um, alright," Michael began, opening his laptop, "it says here that you are the representative that is going to buy out our resort to turn it into a power plant."

"Yes." I nodded.

"And your name is Lena Davis?"

"Yes."

Michael closed his laptop and folded his arms.  "Thousands of people visit our resort every year." Michael told me, "This power plant would be ruining traditions for all of them.  So tell me, Lena, why do you want to be the ruined of traditions?"

Okay.  This guy just sounds insane.  'Ruiner of traditions?'  Please!  Don't make me laugh!

"Okay!" I coughed, trying to hide my laughter, "Well, I would help your town's economy if you would let me do this."

"Who says the economy is bad here?" Michael asked.

Good point.  Don't make assumptions, Lena.

"Well, I would open up new jobs for people." I said with a smile.  Who can beat that?

"Almost half of Spruce Peak works for us at some point in the year.  There are plenty of jobs to go around." Michael answered calmly, meeting my smile.  Geez, he's getting on my nerves!

"Look, your company hasn't made enough money to keep going!" I exclaimed, "Sorry, hon, that's just the way life works.  Money equals power.  Power equals money.  Simple!"

"Wow." Michael stated.  

"W-wow?"

"You're all about money and power.  That's all you care about.  Just as I suspected.  I maybe would have negotiated if your intentions weren't so self-centred.  You don't want us to have new jobs or a better economy-"

Michael leaned in closer and said with a smirk, "All you want is a promotion."

I gasped, searching for a good comeback.  

"Meeting over." Michael said and got up to leave.  I grabbed my stuff and chased after him.  "No!  You can't do that!" I proteseted, bursting through the door-

And right into Mrs. Meade. 

"Oh!  I-I'm sorry-" I started to say.

"Lena, honey, here's an apron.  Chop, chop!  We're getting an emergency family coming tonight and we need all the help we can get in the kitchen." Mrs. Meade thrust an apron into my arms and bustled towards what I presumed was the kitchen.  

"Uh..." I said, overwhelmed.

"Let's go, let's go!" Mrs. Meade urged before disappearing again.

Oh, great.  Could this day get any worse?