The Perfect Spouse: A Novel. Sioux Dallas

      “Jason,” Beth hurriedly said, “did you know the Chamber of Commerce is going to check business places and judge their decorating? There will be prizes and The Blade will take pictures of the winner and do a story on them.

      “As far as I’m concerned you three are the winners and the best.” Jason swept his arms out. He started walking through the long room and back to his office. He stopped in admiration when he discovered the decorating that had been done to this room. Pine boughs were place in various locations with pine cones and holly. He smiled and walked on back to his office. Opening his door he stopped in surprise and admiration. “You pixies have even worked wonders back here. It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

      On his desk was a big poinsettia. Around the six by four window were garlands and tiny twinkling lights. In the corner, near his private restroom, was a small tree sitting on a table with a skirt of red velvet under it. This tree, too, was decorated. He grinned as he hung up his coat and then laughed aloud when he saw pictures of the staff taped on the inside of his door. Every picture was taken when the weather was hot, when they were on vacation and mostly wearing shorts or swim suits.

      At his laughter, Beth and Greg stuck their heads in the door and ask him to share with them.

      “Are all of you hinting for a warm vacation, or are you anticipating the summer to come?”

      “Neither.” Beth chuckled. “We just thought it might make you feel better in the middle of this cold weather to look at some warm pictures.”

      “It beats a cold, impersonal door,” Jason laughed. “Thank you for doing all of this for me. I hope all three of you will have a wonderful Christmas.”

      “What will you be doing?” Greg asked.

      “I think I’ve been adopted by an elderly couple who live across the hall from me.” He didn’t explain that he was being nice to them and hoped they’d leave him alone most of the time.

      Grace left to answer the phone and came back looking as if she could shoot a lazar beam. “That was that Margaret Archer again. She refuses to leave a message. I still say she gives me the creeps.”

      “Forget it, Grace. If she needs our services badly enough, she’ll let us know.” Jason sat at his desk and took a folder from the files to work on.