“It’s official. We’ve got crabs!”
Wayne Kramlitz’s voice rings out clearly through the conference room, and, truthfully, I’m a little surprised at the volume. Not that Wayne’s the quiet sort—he’s clearly not. But nearly everyone in here is wearing a giant crab hat—googly eyes included—and matching crab claws that are the approximate size of an average housecat. Silly me, thinking all that fabric might absorb the sound just a little.
A raucous cheer breaks out at Wayne’s announcement, and I shake my head in wonder; I should be used to this madness by now. The truth is, we’ve had crabs for more than a decade.
Wearethe nation’s leading catalog for all things crustacean, after all.
I’ve been working at Chesapeake Shores for five years now and have been head copyeditor for four. Being surrounded by a dozen middle-aged men in any variety of marine-inspired accessories is a daily occurrence around here.
The cheers die down a bit, and Wayne rambles on about our newest acquisition: the aforementioned googly-eyed crab hat with matching claws. Apparently, our customers have been clamoring for these must-have items to be sold as a set, and Wayne has made that dream a reality. He drones on, highlighting a few new products and explaining that, due to lack of demand, the claw-shaped mailbox is being discontinued and has been placed on clearance, with all sales final. After that last bit of news, Wayne’s formerly booming voice takes on a somber, reverent tone,and I swear the pause that follows his announcement is some bizarre moment of silence.
Out of nowhere, there’s a flash of white in front of me, and I focus to see Simon, one of the IT guys, thrusting a Kleenex in my direction. It’s all I can do not to burst out laughing, so I cover my mouth with the tissue, and to my horror, Wayne zeroes in on me. “I know, Elaine. I’m pretty broken up about it, too. Lois and I love ours, though, I must admit, it’s not as weather-proof as I’d hoped. We’re buying a new one before they’re discontinued. We only have a few dozen left in stock. Want me to put you down for one?”
Seriously? Damn Simon. Stupid, sexy coworker. I’m stuck in my thoughts too long because I hear Wayne prompt, “Elaine?”
“Sorry—yes, um, sure. Please, set one aside for me.” I smile in a weak attempt to mask the what-the-actual-hell expression that is surely written on my face.
Wayne makes a note of it and then returns to his seat, making way for Daryl, our CEO, to have the floor. Daryl looks like everybody’s favorite uncle. He’s a shortish, roundish, teddy-bear of a guy with kind blue eyes and a receding hairline. “Thanks, Wayne, for that update. I, personally, can’t wait to try those new lobster-handled salad tongs.” He nods in Wayne’s direction and smiles. “I also want to thank Simon for all the work he’s doing with the new security team we’ve hired. Everyone will get new badges by the end of the week, and you’ll each have an individualized security code as well. Look for an email from Simon to explain all those details. Be prepared to see a few guys from the security company milling about and installing equipment. They’ll be conducting a test on the new alarm system at some point this week. When the alarm sounds, just ignore it. They assure me it should only last for a minute or so. In case of a real emergency, there’ll be an announcement.”
After a few more updates and a thank-you for our hard work, our weekly staff meeting is adjourned, and we scatter off in different directions. Most of my co-workers head for the break room and the coffee that awaits, but I’m anxious to get back to my desk. I’ve already had more than my recommended daily serving of caffeine in the form of a Cinnamon Dolce Latte this morning, so I pass on the mediocre coffee and zip to my office.
I’m five minutes into my initial proofread of the staff handbook that I revise yearly when there’s a knock at my door.
“Come in,” I call, hoping it’s Molly, my best friend, and praying it’s not Tall Steve, the world’s most annoying co-worker. That man can talk for hours and doesn’t know the meaning of personal space.
Neither prospect enters. Instead, it’s Simon, holding a full box of tissues. “I thought maybe you might need these? Perhaps to dry the tears of joy you shed at the thought of your recent purchase?”
If he weren’t so damn handsome, I’d laugh politely and make an excuse about having to get back to work. Instead, I wave him in, and he walks forward. Yes, I have work to do, but Simon is a welcome distraction. He’s the hot IT guy, and he’s been here several months now. He always finds one excuse or another to stop in and hang out, and before I know it, I’m an hour behind schedule, and my face hurts from laughing.
“Don’t get too comfy, Simon Walker. We are fighting.” I give him my best scowl and cross my arms over my chest. I’m sure I’d be the very picture of intimidation if my stupid boobs weren’t in the way. As it is, I probably look like I’m attempting to juggle grapefruit with my elbows.
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about, Ms. Madigan,” he says, barely stifling a laugh.
In response, I glare. He ignores my scathing look and settles into one of the tub chairs that sits across from my desk.
“Elaine, I know you’re pissed, but I gotta say, the look on Wayne’s face when he found someone to commiserate with about the discontinuation of his beloved mailbox was priceless. At first, I thought he was going to tear up about the whole thing and then he saw you grab that Kleenex, and it was like someone finally,fucking finally, understood his deep sense of loss. I guess what I’m saying is, not all heroes wear capes.”
“Ugh!” I roll my eyes. “Just be glad I didn’t strangle you in the middle of the staff meeting. Or worse yet, tell Wayne I was buying it as a birthday gift for you. Let’s see how much you enjoy the undivided attention of Mr. Kramlitz.”
“Elaine. While I want fuck-all to do with Wayne and his mailbox, I’m beyond touched that you remembered that my birthday was last week. You really do care.” He places his hand over his heart.
“Ha! Total coincidence, Walker. Big plans for your twenty-first, I assume?”
Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes. “I turned twenty-five, thank you very much.”
Twenty-five? Wow. I mean, I knew back when we met that he was younger, but damn. Now I feel more ancient than my thirty-four years.
“Well, then. I stand corrected. Happy birthday, Simon. We should have celebrated at the staff meeting this morning! You could have brought those ice cream cones with the cupcakes inside. Talk about a missed opportunity. I bet Daryl would have sung to you.” My smile is genuine, though my words are teasing.
I should probably get back to work, but I just like hanging out with him. Plus, I’ve got a favor to ask, and his impromptu visit saves me from trying to track him down later. An added bonus is that he has his sleeves rolled up, and I have a clear view of his muscled forearms. Listen, I have a forearm fixation, ok? And Simon’s arms are seriously doing it for me. If I’m being fully honest here, Simon’s everything is seriously doing it for me. I mean...the man is gorgeous He’s tall and lean and I just know he’s hiding muscles under those wrinkled dress shirts. And yes, that probably makes me a creepy old lady, but I can look, right? I just can’t touch. I mean, he’s twenty-five, for god’s sake.
He leans forward expectantly, and for a minute there, I’m afraid he’s caught me staring. The moment vanishes when I hear him clear his throat.. “So, yeah, I’ll just leave these here. You know, in case you start to tear up again.” That dimple flashes as he places the tissue box on my desk.
“Haha. And I still haven’t forgiven you, but I do have an idea for how you can atone for publicly embarrassing me and forcing me to purchase that godforsaken mailbox.”
“Please, Elaine,” he waves a dismissive hand. “You’ll be showering me with gratitude when that mailbox arrives. And as for the favor, yes, I’ll help you install it.” He smiles cheekily.
“Oh, you’re totally installing it. On a high shelf in my garage. But the real favor is a ride to work. My brake light is out, so my car will be in the shop for a day, and I was hoping you could pick me up? Molly would do it, but she’s leaving for a conference. And you do live off Water street, right? I’m not too far away, off Federal. I can text you my address.”
