The Naughty List Read online

  “That’s ridiculous,” Rosalie sputtered indignantly. “A ton of money would be saved in the long run.”

  “They only care about the next spreadsheet.” Marissa rose to her feet. “I have to get back. My lunch break is nearly over, but I needed a shoulder to cry on.”

  Rosalie hugged her. “Anytime.”

  Word about Sneaky Shoppers spread through Penrose’s like a grease fire in a trailer. Stephanie didn’t waste any time. By the end of the week phony customers lurked throughout the store reporting lapses in customer service. In turn, Stephanie posted her Motivation Memo in the break room, a daily update of all employees with infractions. Since Sneaky Shoppers’ standards were impossibly high and Stephanie’s criteria ridiculously vague, Rosalie found herself constantly on notice.

  The one name never on the list was Anthony Pearce, not that he did a stupendous job as Santa. Out of curiosity Rosalie slipped over to Christmas Land several times to unobtrusively watch him in action. She hoped he’d be so awful customer complaints would force Stephanie to give Ross the throne back.

  To her disappointment, Anthony wasn’t terrible. He wasn’t great, either. With the padding, costume, and fake beard, Anthony certainly looked the part. No one would recognize the handsome young man from Central Receiving. He said the right things, too, but lacked Ross’s natural love for the children and boundless enthusiasm. Anthony was nothing but another shopping mall Santa. The kids forgot him as quickly as they finished the complimentary candy canes. Rosalie watched with a pang as Anthony hurried toward Stephanie. Srd Step’s office when his break started. She trudged back to the customer service counter. Dejection dogged her footsteps. Is this what Christmas comes down to? Santa in thrall to a she-demon?

  Her mood lifted as Mittens approached the counter. The elderly woman had kept a low profile since the run-in with Stephanie, only occasionally stopping in for coffee with Lu.

  “How are you, my dear? You look a little down.” Mittens’ eyes twinkled in amusement. “Lu said you’re at the top of Stephanie’s naughty list again.”

  Rosalie’s voice dripped sarcasm. “This morning I was dinged by a Sneaky Shopper for being firmly pleasant with a customer, instead of being pleasantly firm.”

  Mittens wrinkled her brow. “What does that mean?”

  “I have no clue. It’s one of Stephanie’s idiotic rules. Let me tell you, there’s nothing like being constantly spied upon to really crank up the paranoia. I size up every shopper passing by Customer Service, wondering which one will run squealing to the boss. I smile at everyone like a doper in a pot haze. I look creepy. People eyeball me as if they recognize my face from a wanted poster.”

  Mittens patted Rosalie’s hand. “You’re not the only one having a tough time. Lu is supposed to instruct the wait staff to hurry customers along by clearing up and wiping down the table as soon as the food is gone. She refuses, saying she’d rather be fired.” Mittens reached into the bag, and slid a large hot pepper over the counter. “Have a jalapeño. Spicy food raises endorphin levels.”

  Rosalie graciously thanked her. “You amaze me, Miss Delia. This late in the year and you still get vegetables from the garden.”

  “I don’t have a real garden any more, but I like to grow things and have a nice sunny spot for my pots.” She sighed. “I’ll miss the terrace most of all.”

  “Are you going somewhere?”

  “Both my son and daughter live in Texas. They’ve urged me to move out there for years. Now, my son and his wife are having a baby and my daughter is getting married. The time has come to be closer to family. Although, I will miss my friends, and…” she glanced around with a loving expression, “this place.”

  Rosalie’s heart sank. Penrose’s would lose Mittens. “I’m happy for you, but the store won’t be the same.”

  “You’re very kind, but I’m not gone yet. My affairs will take a while to get in order, probably not before the holidays are over.” She looked up suddenly. “Uh-oh, gotta run. You-know-who is flying in on her broomstick.”

  Mittens scampered off as Stephanie rounded the corner. She plopped a large cardboard box down on the counter. “I’ve decided on more festive attire for the staff to increase holiday spirit and, thereby, increase customer spending.” She pulled off the cover.

  Rosalie’s mouth dropped open. “What the hell is that?”

  “An elf hat, of course. It’s festive.”

  “It’s butt ugly.”

  Stephanie glowered. “No one asked your opinion, Rosalie. No one cares about your opinion. Attitudes such as yours prove me right. You need more holiday spirit.” She shoved the hat in her face. “Everyone wears one. Put it on.”

  Fashioned out of bright green felt, the cone-shaped hat had Penrose’s written in glittery gold paint smack dab in the middle. On the pointy top dangled a pom-pom the size of her fist that jingled annoyingly with the slightest movement. The rim, trimmed with bushy fake white fur, did nothing to offset the hidtoffset uge elf ears stitched in as giant flaps on either side. Rosalie begrudgingly slipped on the hat. Immediately, her head began to sweat. The ears itched like crazy.

  Stephanie beamed. “Perfect. I told all the assistant managers to stop by Customer Service and pick up hats for their departments.” She turned on her heel.

  “You forgot yours,” Rosalie snidely called out. Of course, Stephanie ignored her.

  ****

  David sunk wearily into a chair in the break room, cradling a disposable cup in his hands. He appropriated the stale coffee from the pot someone forgot to empty out and clean. He barely noticed the bitter taste. Ten minute break…ten minutes was all he needed. The caffeine would keep him on his feet another couple of hours.

  He rubbed his eyes, willing away the crushing fatigue. Night after night David wandered Penrose’s four floors in a fruitless search, pulling open boxes, checking under counters. Although the nagging pull continued to graze his senses, The Book was nowhere to be found. He’d come no closer to pinning down the location than when he arrived. The mystical connection now appreciably slackened under his mental touch. David’s stomach knotted up in fear. Soon the link would disappear forever.

  Something alluded him—some special storage area, some door he hadn’t opened. Why couldn’t he find The Book? In frustration, David drained the last of the coffee. He flung the cup to the wastebasket, overshot, and hit the corkboard on the wall. A clipboard crashed to the floor. He stifled a curse. Bending down to pick it up, his eyes strayed over the top sheet. “Motivation Memo from Stephanie Crowder to all Employees,” he read. “Below are daily reports from Sneaky Shoppers.” Oh brother, Stephanie is a real piece of work. She has her own secret police. He snorted in amusement scanning the list of ridiculous infractions.

  “Now, now, Rosalie Thatcher of Customer Service,” he muttered. “Two transgressions—you’ll never get off the Naughty List with that attitude. Imagine, not remembering to say have a special holly jolly holly-day at Penrose’s. I see you were also caught without an elf hat.”

  Elf hat?

  His lips twitched in an involuntary grin. His dad would appreciate the joke. As David replaced the clipboard, he suddenly remembered Rosalie. She was the girl he followed to the security office. The picture of the young brunette with a friendly natural smile popped into his mind. A smile like that couldn’t be faked. She liked people. She liked her job. He wondered how she felt about Penrose’s now.

  David experienced a rush of guilt. All around the atmosphere had changed. He was super-sensitive to the yuletide. Magic in the air, holiday spirit, whatever—there was always something indefinably optimistic about this time of year. Even as a kid, before he understood family responsibilities, he sensed the truth. As easily as he now sensed the diminished effect of The Book. Whatever goodwill the season stirred up rapidly faded. Hard-working people like Rosalie paid the price of his stupid mistake.

  The young man slipped out of the break room. He had enough time left to make one quick circuit of the first floor befor
e staff trickled in. He worked from the front of Penrose’s to the back corner, ending up at Customer Service. For an instant, his spirits rose. A large box stashed underneath the counter wasn’t there the last time he checked. He ripped off the top, pawing through the contents.

  Fingering the garish green material, David didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. The oversize ears stuck out like a genetic experiment gone horribly wrong. The lining felt like steel wo like swool. Had the holiday spirit been reduced to this?

  A wave of despair enveloped him. “I’m so sorry, Rosalie.”

  On impulse, David reached into his pocket. He pulled out a gold-wrapped chocolate bar saved for later, swiped from a stash hidden in the store manager’s office. David scribbled on a sticky pad and pressed the note to the wrapper. He slipped the candy under the counter just before a sudden murmur of voices broke the silence. The staff had arrived. He ducked behind a rack of clothing in the back as a girl walked up to the counter, an elf hat tucked under her arm.

  “Ears, Rosalie.”

  She halted in mid-stride. A sharply dressed twenty-something in a skin tight pencil skirt swooped down on her.

  To get a better view, David carefully eased back the clothes hanging in front of his face. He saw Rosalie’s fingers clenched around the hat. He chuckled to himself. She’s pissed, but hides her aggravation well. Sadhri would definitely approve of her self-control.

  “Stephanie,” Rosalie stated calmly, “the hats are extremely uncomfortable. Everyone hates them.”

  “Nonsense, they’re fine.”

  “If you simply try one on you’ll see—”

  “I don’t have to. I know they’re fine. The hats put people in the holiday spirit and cheerful people spend more money.” Stephanie examined her perfect French manicure. “So close to Christmas is an awful time to be out of work.” Rosalie jammed the hat on her head without another word. “Excellent,” cooed Stephanie. “Keep that attitude up and your name will stop appearing on the Motivation Memo.” Without another word, she flounced off.

  David knew he should dash-away. Every moment in the open was risky, but he couldn’t take his eyes off Rosalie in the idiotic hat. What would she do?

  The young woman leaned against the counter glaring after Stephanie. She bobbled her head back and forth and spouted in a falsetto sing-song:

  “I’m a special elf from Penrose’s

  I wear the special hat

  You are not a special elf

  You’re a dirty rat

  You don’t belong at Penrose’s

  You don’t know how to play

  Wiggle your tight ass out of here

  Damn you, go away.”

  David snorted. Rosalie stiffened and turned around.

  “Who’s there?” she called nervously.

  ****

  A puff of air hit her face. The clothes on the return rack behind the counter fluttered mysteriously. With trepidation, Rosalie pushed aside the hangers, but to her relief saw only the wall.

  “Air conditioning is on the fritz,” she mumbled to herself. “Terrific…what else will go wrong?”

  Rosalie ripped off the elf hat and gave her head a vigorous scratch before mashing it back on her head in disgust. Only then did she notice the fancy chocolate bar wrapped in gold foil. The note on top read, For Rosalie—forget the Motivation Memo. Santa said to tell you you’re on the Nice List. Rosalie smiled. Trust Marissa to try to cheer her up when she had more pressing problems of her own.

  Rosalie finally caught up with Marissa during break. She thanked her only to receive a blank look. “I didn’t write the note. Sounds like you have a secret admirer.” Her friend’s eyes lit up. “Maybe it’s Anthony.”

  “Doubtful. He isn’t exactly the shy type. Besides, we haven’t so much as exchanged hellos since Stephanie glommed onto him.”

  “A mysterious stranger, then—tall, dark, and handsome.”

  “My, my, aren’t you full of optimism? Maybe he’s short, funny-looking, and on the run from the law.”

  She squeezed her shoulder. “My advice, then, is to work with the first two and ignore the third until the cops pound on the door.”

  The anonymous message lifted Rosalie’s spirits all day. She even caught herself humming Christmas tunes, the first time since Stephanie took over. She smiled all the way across the parking lot. As Rosalie reached for the car door, she experienced a sudden anxious feeling of being watched. She glanced around, but no one paid the slightest attention. She shrugged off the unease and drove away, belting out a second chorus of Jingle Bells.

  ****

  David watched from the shadows. As employees filtered out of Penrose’s, he unconsciously searched for Rosalie. The sight of her happy expression unexpectedly lifted his spirits. She had an awfully nice smile. He welcomed it back.

  He entered the store exhilarated, but after another fruitless night and exhausting search, grew anxious and depressed. He experienced irrational anger at Penrose’s, as if the building purposely kept him from his goal. In a fit of pique, David swiped another candy bar from Stephanie’s office and left Rosalie another note. He lingered behind the clothes rack again to watch her reaction. Rosalie read the note with a chuckle, before tucking the paper in her pocket.

  David made a quick decision to hang around for a while. Maybe he couldn’t get a fix because The Book was in some sort of container moving about the store. The idea was a long shot, at best, but David searched cautiously all morning, careful not to attract any attention from the security cameras. He kept a watchful eye out for any possible method to conceal The Book.

  After an unsuccessful circuit of the four floors, depression set in again. Before leaving to catch a few hours sleep, he found himself inexplicably drawn to Customer Service. Rosalie stood at the counter wearing the stupid elf hat; calm, patient, treating everyone in a friendly, professional manner.

  David ducked around an aisle and spied on her as she handled a blender return. The chunky girl had a butterfly tattoo peeking out from under a tank top two sizes too small. As soon as Rosalie opened the box, even from his hiding place, David got a whiff of margarita. Obviously used, Rosalie asked politely if something was wrong with the blender.

  Butterfly Boob snapped at her. “Just give me my money back, bitch.”

  David scowled. The scam was obvious. Now that the party had ended, she returned a perfectly good blender, not caring in the least the appliance couldn’t be resold. Butterfly Boob knew it, he knew it, and Rosalie knew it, too. For a moment his mind toyed with a vision of Billy hunting down Butterfly Boob and dragging her ass off to the Integral’s prison. She’d probably pee herself dry before a medusa turned her static.

  Rosalie finished the transaction and Butterfly Boob bounced away with a surly look and no thank you. David continued to watch as customer after customer approached. Even the ones who weren’t overtly rude appeared brusque and unsmiling. A few made snide comments about the hat. Rosalie’s shoulders sagged. She looked tired, but her attitude stayed pleasant. None of the customers noticed, but David did.

  She needs another candy bar.

  ****

  The next morning Rosalie arrived and to her excitement found more chocolate and another note. This one read. Cheer up. One day gravity will take hold and that butterfly on her boob will look like a pterodactyl coming in for a landing on the runway of an aircraft carrier.

  She burst out laughing. Her mysterious friend got an eyeful of the chick with the blender yesterday. Another puff of air hit the back of her neck, blowing a stack of receipts to the floor. She checked behind the clothing racks again, but spied nothing but the blank wall.

  Rosalie kept the note in her pocket all day. Anytime she grew tense or irritable one touch of the little scrap of paper instantly lifted her spirits. Even the Motivation Memo didn’t faze her. She sat in the break room eating the chocolate and read, “Rosalie did not display enough synergy to augment the internal locus of customer satisfaction.” She chucked the gold wrapper into th
e trash. “Thank you Stephanie, you are ever so helpful.”

  Rosalie bought a bottle of water from the vending machine. The door opened and Stephanie sashayed in. Ignoring Rosalie, she poured a cup of coffee from the pot and added sugar. As she discarded the stirrer, her hand froze. Her eyes flared. She reached in and pulled the gold wrapper out of the trash can.

  “Who threw this away?”

  Warning bells went off. Rosalie blinked innocently. “What?”

  “This!” She held up the wrapper, steaming mad. “Someone stole from my office. This chocolate is very expensive—from a specialty shop in New York. Who was in here just now? Did you see who threw the wrapper away?”

  Rosalie shrugged. “A bunch of people came and went. I didn’t see anyone eating candy.” Anyone else, that is.

  Stephanie stormed out, declaring, “The thief won’t be working here much longer.”

  Whoever swiped the candy obviously snuck unnoticed in and out of Stephanie’s office. Rosalie didn’t know whether to be tickled or concerned. She decided on tickled when Marissa dropped by the counter later and let her know Stephanie demanded all the assistant managers cross-examine their employees.

  She winked. “Of course, I told her none of my people could possibly have any knowledge of such a nefarious crime. Besides, no one can get into her office. She has the only key.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Nothing, but I heard later she ordered security to change the locks on the door. I hope the thief keeps his head down,” she called over her shoulder. “Stephanie’s out for blood.”

  Rosalie shook her head in amusement. All that fuss over a chocolate bar. She fingered the note in her pocket. Still, the writer would be in big trouble if Stephanie tracked him down. Not that she had any reason to believe the writer was male. Marissa thought so, but the writer could easily be a kindly female employee like Miss Lu. Rosalie’s cheeks flushed. Only, she hoped not.

  There…she finally admitted the truth to herself. Rosalie glanced around the store, mentally reviewing all the employees. Who was the mysterious writer? No one came immediately to mind, although the person had to be someone who worked late. The notes always appeared first thing in the morning.