How To Bake The Perfect Christmas Cake. Gina Calanni

ties for presents. Javier is good dad and wears the flashy ties, which are quite different from his typical low-key striped conservative ones.

      “Hey, Lauren, how are you?” He reaches out to shake my hand. It’s a firm, warm grip. His hands are always warm but not clammy which is good.

      “Good, how about you, Javier?” I step inside his office and he gets up to shut the door behind me.

      Javier is a large man with a full head of jet-black hair. He mentions from time to time about his hair being a true gift from his mother’s side of the family. He sits down at his desk and I slide into one of the maroon chairs in front of it. I tap the arm of the seat. Leather. I breathe in deep. I don’t want to seem nervous in front of him.

      “Lauren, I’m going to cut right to the chase.” Javier pushes some stark white papers around on his desk and stares at me.

      “Yes?” I say. Internally I’m dying, am I about to get fired? For a two-minute phone call with my sister? That’s ridiculous.

      “We’ve been going over the reports and looking at your call times.” Javier stacks the papers on top of each other.

      Shiat, I knew it. That damn Leena. Like she doesn’t take personal calls. Arghh.

      “Lauren, your call times and balance-management skills are incredible. We are doing a disservice to our company and our clients keeping you in your current position.” Javier’s eyes are scouting my face. He’s reading me, waiting for my reaction.

      I can’t believe I am hearing him correctly. I blink. Yup, this is real. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from speaking to soon. Sometimes, waiting to speak is better than blurting things out.

      “We want to promote you and give you your own team.” Javier’s mouth forms a large grin.

      My eyes widen, dost my ears deceive me? Did I just get the biggest promotion of my life?

      “Wow, Javier, that’s really great. Can you give me more specifics?”

      Javier laughs. “I knew you would want to talk numbers and that’s why we want to move you up. Here is a packet filled with everything you need to know about this new position, including the numbers. Take it home tonight and read it over. If you decide that you want to take this route with your career, you would begin in January after your Christmas break.”

      Javier stands up and offers me the stack of papers from his desk. I take them and shake his hand.

      It seems like the right thing to do. I know shaking his hand doesn’t mean I’ve accepted the position, but it is a business meeting and those typically end with a handshake. If I hadn’t already eaten lunch, I would rush out to the nearest diner and request the “business woman’s lunch special” in my best Romy accent.

      ***

      About a year ago I did the wise and responsible thing and invested in some real estate. I bought a three-story townhouse. It’s colonial style, which I love. The bricks are burnt red and the shutters are kettle black. It was built in the sixties and two huge oak trees stand tall in my front yard. I’m pretty happy with my little home. It has all the nice features one could hope for; a walk-in closet, a garden-size tub and a fireplace. My fireplace has never actually been used other than as a spot to light my candles. Ten various-sized white candles currently sit in the hearth, I switch the colors throughout the year. I bought some red and green ones to make the fireplace look more Christmassy, but I haven’t really been in the mood to decorate. My box of Christmas décor is still sitting in my attic.

      I am sad about the idea of not going home for Christmas, but I don’t want to hear about Jack or, worse, run into him. After I got home from the airport, alone, I sat on my gray suede couch for a good long period. I twirled the tassels on my lavender chenille pillows until I finally checked my phone. There was one voicemail. Not five, no, just one. The message didn’t really explain why I had made a wasted trip to the airport or why Jack had not made the flight. The message simply said:

       “Hi, Lauren, this is Jack. I’m sorry but I can’t make the trip. I’ll talk to you soon.”

      That’s it. Who does that? Who plans a trip to see someone you’ve been texting, calling, emailing, Facetiming with for a couple of weeks straight and then drops off the face of the planet? Well, I’m sure he didn’t drop off the face of the planet. But I hadn’t heard from him since. I didn’t try and call him because I was pissed and hurt. I was hurt even more when hours went by and then days of silence. No texts, no calls, no email, no flowers at my desk. To say I’m completely and utterly confused as to why I hadn’t and still haven’t heard from Jack would be an understatement.

      Tonight will be different though, I’m going to go out with friend Brianna. Brianna has recently broken up with her boyfriend of six months. Of course, her relationship has had its ups and downs, but we had both agreed about tonight’s plans. We were going to focus on being Single Ladies. Uh oh uh and all that. Though my relationship with Jack was short-lived, Brianna is in a different predicament. Their relationship had been long enough to have a ring put on it. Tonight, we are going to be strutting to a different ballad, we are going to be dancing queens and paint the town red. Well, not really the town, more like a fun dinner and maybe a movie. We hadn’t really set anything in stone because we are living freely. Young, wild and free, we made no concrete plans nor are in any committed relationships.

      I sashay past my queen-size bed. I could have bought a king-size bed because my room is big enough for it. But I am only one person and a female, queen-sized seemed to make sense. I alternate my comforters with the seasons. I like to keep my house cooler than most people. There are three layers of covers on my bed. The top layer is a red comforter with a black fleur-de-lis print down the middle, then a red thick blanket, and then finally my gray sheets. They are only one shade of gray, however. My house went through a major renovation before I purchased it. The master room closet has French doors, which make me happy every time I stand in front of them. I grab onto the silver knob turn it to the right and swing it open. No matter how many times I have done this, it still reminds me of stepping into a secret wardrobe. This is by far the largest closet I’ve ever owned and sometimes I wonder if I could ever get lost in it. Ha!

      I traipse into my closet. I have four rows of clothes to choose from and one long spot in the back for my dresses and ball gowns. Ha, like I have ball gowns!

      I scan my clothes, trying to decide which daring assemble fits my mood. Something to cheer me up and make me feel fantastic. Black leather. Yes, black leather is the perfect material to rockify my evening. I grab my black leather skirt and match it with a navy capped sweater with a bit of lace at the lining. Smoky eyes tonight for sure. The top slides over my skin, though lace is pretty, I’m glad there is a satin lining underneath it so I don’t have to deal with the scratchiness. I slip into the skirt and Boom! This outfit is dangerous. My jet-black pumps with silver nuts bolted to the outside of the toe complete my look. I stare at myself in the mirror that is attached to the back of one of my closet doors. This was an upgrade I installed myself. I’m pretty DIY. It only took me measuring the location for the screw holes four times before I got it right. Look out HGTV, I’m on a DIY mission. I laugh at the idea of my own home improvement show.

      I pick up my phone from the bed and press the home button. I have zero messages. Nothing. I push the button to darken my screen and my phone vibrates. It’s a text message.

      “Lor Lor, I’m super-sorry but Owen called and he wants to meet me for drinks. I’ll be a little late, but go to Ravens and I promise I’ll meet you there. Xs Bri.”

      My chest tightens and I exhale. I cock my head to the side and text Brianna back.

      “OK, see u there.”

      Now, whether or not I will actually see Brianna there is another thing. I’ve already rated this outfit as dangerous and obviously at the bare minimum I need to do a flyby. I’m definitely not going to sit at home on Friday night in leather and lace and stare at my candle-lit fire. I can hear Bridget Jones’ drunken