Christmas at Tiffany's by Marianne Evans Page B

know about its cost, even before Melody released a low, smooth whistle.
    “That bad, huh?”
    “Well…yeah…but, it’s on sale.”
    “And you’re evil.”
    The minute Tiffany tried it on—just for fun of course—she pictured herself drifting across the floor of the Rainbow Room, embracing a night of art deco glamour while the Manhattan skyline twinkled like a sprinkling of vivid, white diamonds through uninterrupted floor-to-ceiling windows. She imagined CEO Charming, framed by the view, watching her arrive, and—
    “Tif, if you don't buy that dress, you’re a complete idiot.”
    Tiffany jerked to attention, realizing she had been day dreaming while perched on a small dais in front of a triple panel mirror outside the changing room. The fantasy was lovely, and the dress was so gorgeous. She yearned to indulge…big time…just this once…
    Instead, she heaved a sad sigh. “Thanks for the mental evaluation, but it’s completely impractical and blows my budget to smithereens.” She turned, posed, turned again. Perfectly styled and supple velvet fabric hugged her torso, flowing out from the waist in ripples that danced against her legs. Buying the dress would be bad enough, and she’d definitely need a jacket. A black velvet bolero number would be just perfect, and she had seen one on the clearance rack not far from the dressing room. Maybe it was her size?
    Dreaming of her favorite jewelry store, Tiffany murmured, “I’d love to go all Audrey Hepburn and wear pearls with this. Long layers of shimmery white pearls.”
    “Mmm…polish it off with a pair of dangling crystal earrings and you'll look incredible.” Melody shifted bags of purchases she had already made and squeezed Tiffany’s arm. “As far as the price tag for the dress goes, Merry Christmas. Consider it an early present.”
    Tiffany’s eyes widened. “No…Oh, Mel, no. I couldn’t possibly. That’s way too generous, and—”
    “Nothing doing. You can’t walk out of here without it. Seriously, I want to do it.”
    “But—”
    “But nothing.” They shared a long, affectionate look before Melody pressed on. “Now, what about the secret Santa gift you have to get?”
    “Ugh.” Tiffany had been agonizing about it for days now, repeatedly shifting between the idea of being mean and snarky and following through on the type of Christian kindness the Yong’s had advised. “The best idea I can come up with is a thermal carafe, maybe a cool chrome number, and a gift card to a coffee shop.”
    “That's better than he deserves, and I think it's great. It's professional, appropriate, and even thoughtful. I think it's a score.”
    Side-by-side with her sister, Tiffany nabbed the bolero jacket—it was meant to be, she figured—then added costume pearls to her stash of acquisitions. A quick trip to the on-site coffee boutique and Eric’s gift was checked off her list as well. Happiness spreading, she continued to prowl the aisles of the store, savoring every fairy light, every wispy scent of evergreen, every over-the-top Christmas display of St. Nicholas, of Christmas villages blanketed by artificial snow, of opulent ornaments in all shapes and sizes.
    Once they were shopped out, Tiffany led the way to a warm and cozy beverage and sweets shop, Drinks-On-Us, where she collapsed onto a charming metal bistro chair and stretched her aching legs.
    “What’s the latest on the CEO front?”
    That question returned Tiffany to the present in a big hurry. “He’s not really a CEO. I mean, not yet, anyway…”
    “Mere formality.” Melody sipped and brushed the idea aside with a dramatic wave of her hand. Tiffany grinned at her sister’s antics.
    “You’re probably right. Rumor at work has it he’s interviewing his replacement. The head of HR from LA is in town and they’ve been wrapped up in meetings, which can only mean he’s headed back to California in a month or so, probably to a promotion.”
    “You sound sad about