Free Once Upon a December: A Holiday Short Story Collection by Sydney Logan

 

     
    The airport’s full of aggravated travelers, desperate to make it home for Christmas. Thanks to an unexpected snow storm out west, flights in and out of Atlanta have come to a virtual standstill. The monitors flash with cancellations and delays, and with each new screen update, a symphony of groans can be heard throughout the gate area. Behind the counter, equally frustrated ticket agents attempt to please the stranded passengers.
    I’ve seen it all. Tears. Screams. Tantrums.
    And that’s just from the adults.
    As for me? I’m just trying to get to a business meeting.
    “Sir,” the agent says to the passenger in front of me, “we’re doing everything we can to get you—”
    “You’re not doing enough!” The frazzled man points toward his family standing off to the side. “You explain to my kids why they aren’t going to make it to Grandma’s house for Christmas!”
    The woman apologizes again and offers him a hotel for the night. The angry man stalks away to consult with his wife. Shaking my head, I step up to the counter and offer the agent my ticket.
    “Good evening, Mr. Fisher. I’m sorry for the inconvenience.”
    It is an inconvenience, but I force a smile anyway. The last thing this woman needs is another irate passenger.
    “It’s not your fault. You can’t control the weather.”
    She sighs with relief. “Thank you for understanding. Let’s see what we can do to get you to New York as soon as possible.”
    “I appreciate that.”
    While she works her magic, I pull my phone out of my jacket and scroll through about a hundred unread emails. Unlike the rest of the travelers, I’m not desperate to get anywhere to celebrate the holiday. However, two days after Christmas, I’m scheduled to meet the owner of a stagnant, yet potentially profitable, software company. December means one thing to me— significant end-of-year profits. In our crappy economy, it also means the end of the line for many struggling corporations. That’s when I get to work my own kind of holiday magic. I swoop in, buy the drowning business for mere pennies, and then sell it for a substantial return.
    Needless to say, Sullivan Software is just one of the many companies on Thomas Fisher’s Christmas list.
    “Mr. Fisher, I have good news. There’s a short delay, but your flight should be boarding soon.”
    Happy to be the bearer of good news for at least one person in her line, the agent smiles brightly and hands me my boarding pass. I thank her and try to ignore the jealous stares of the rest of the travelers as I make my way to a seat. I spend the next forty minutes answering emails, deleting others, and confirming my hotel reservation in Manhattan. My secretary would typically handle this stuff, but in the spirit of the season, I’d given her two weeks off, with pay. I may have the reputation of Scrooge, but I understand that some people actually enjoy spending time with their family during the holidays.
    I’m not one of those people.
    It’s not that I don’t love them. That’s the problem. I love them too much.
    I love her too much.
    My flight’s called, and I grab my bag and board the plane. After stuffing my carry-on in the compartment, I fasten my seatbelt and pretend to listen as the flight attendant gives her safety spiel. I check my phone one last time and notice a text from my sister, Shaina.
     
    Please come home for Christmas this year?
     
    I don’t bother replying. She knows I’m not coming home. I just power off my phone and stuff it back into my jacket. With a tired sigh, I lean back, close my eyes, and find myself doing the one thing I try never to do.
    I think about the mess I’ve made of my life.
    Ten years ago, I’d been an eighteen-year-old living in Paisley Springs, Tennessee—a tiny, rural town about two hours north of Nashville. Ten years ago, I’d been a popular athlete with dreams of becoming a professional basketball player. Ten years ago, I’d been the golden child of Dr.