Free A Fairytale Christmas by Susan Wiggs Page A

with his deception simply because she wanted an excuse to have a man but not a commitment?
    “If it’s the funding you’re worried about,” she informed him, “you needn’t. I’ve taken care of that. The Santiago Center will stay open. Just because
you’re
a jerk doesn’t mean those kids should suffer.”
    The acid in her voice stung him out of his state of shock and boosted him into a temper. “You are really something, Madeleine,” he said. “You know that? Okay, so it’s a deal. You write the checks but don’t get your hands dirty. It works out just peachy, doesn’t it?”
    “Just peachy,” she agreed coldly.
    He could only stare. “Wow, lady. You are one cool customer.”
    “I suppose you’re used to having the women you dump grovel at your size-twelve feet and scream ‘You broke my heart!’ Is that it?”
    “No.” Jack blew out a sigh of exasperation. “No, Maddy, I’m not.”
    “Fine. I’m not about to start sounding like some bad country-and-western ballad. Now, if you don’t mind, I have work to do.” The soul of efficiency, she found a large rubber stamp and
thunked
it down on his personnel sheet.
    “Oh, and Jack,” she said as he turned to go.
    “What is it?”
    “You’re fired. Effective immediately.”
    * * *
    Fax machines and E-mail worked overtime, and by ten in the morning, it seemed that all the world knew Jack Riley had been canned. Somehow, Madeleine managed to write an editorial for the next edition. The piece was a heartfelt commentary on the state of modern love, slamming home the truth that “happily ever after” was a myth. Reality was a girl like Maria—abandoned by her lover and homeless but for the kindness of strangers. Reality was the sterile emptiness of a one-night stand.
    In order for her Christmas editorial not to sound too “bah, humbug,” she added a plea for generosity to places like the Santiago Youth Center.
    The piece was strong and tight. She knew instinctively that it was good.
    By lunchtime, the phone started to ring. Several advertisers, angered by the firing of the paper’s most popular writer, called to pull their ads in protest.
    What had started out as a truly bad day quickly deteriorated into an unbearable one.
    She muddled through the afternoon and let the entire staff leave early. It was Christmas Eve, after all. Just as the presses in the basement roared to life, Madeleine wandered out into the city room. Jack’s abandoned desk drew her like a magnet.
    Oh, God, I fired a man on Christmas Eve. What have I become?
    The desk looked like a skeleton, devoid of the mess and personality and exuberance that had been the hallmarks of Jack Riley. She found herself remembering things that had meant nothing before she had gotten toknow him. A lopsided coffee mug, which she now knew had been handcrafted by a child at the Santiago Center. An ink blotter with his name burned into the leather and the inscription To Mr. Riley, A Righteous Dude.
    He had been a special man.
    And she had run him out of her life—on Christmas Eve. She was beyond pathetic.
    She released a shuddery sigh and told herself to forget him. As she turned to leave the room, she was surprised to discover she wasn’t alone.
    “What are you doing here?” she asked sharply.
    Harry Fodgother gave her a sunny smile. “Looking for Jack. I guess I missed him, after all.” Harry set a shopping bag on the empty desk. He took off his hat and subjected her to a long, nosy stare. “You look like your best friend up and died.”
    She sniffed, annoyed by his prying. “Aren’t you working late on Christmas Eve?” she asked.
    “It’s just another day to me,” he said. “I’m a Hanukkah type myself.”
    “Oh.”
    “But I was thinking I might make a donation to a Christian charity. That Santiago Center I read about in your paper.”
    “That would be wonderful, Mr. Fodgother. Jack will be pleased.” She hated the way her voice caught when she said his name.
    “Good. I owe him a lot.