I Hate Walt. Vicki Andree

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      Copyright

      Scripture taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®.

      Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission

      of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved. The “NIV” and “New

      International Version” trademarks are registered in the United States Patent and

      Trademark Office by International Bible Society. Use of either trademark requires

      the permission of International Bible Society.

      Copyright © 2015, Vicki Andree

      All rights reserved.

      First Edition

      Published in eBook format by eBookIt.com

       http://www.eBookIt.com

      ISBN-13: 978-1-4566-2426-2

      Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above,

      no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into

      a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic,

      mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise),

      without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner

      and the publisher of this book.

      Dedication

      To Scott and Craig

      My sons, who have triumphed over life’s trials and emerged as victorious men of God. You make me proud!

      Chapter One

      Monday, December 24, 2012

      Denver, Colorado

      Mary Lou Stots tapped her fingers on the handle of the heaped shopping cart. She resisted the urge to scream and stood on her toes to check. Sixth in line from checkout. When she had stepped into line half an hour ago, she had counted twelve in front of her. The sounds of “White Christmas” blared through the intercom for the tenth time, making it hard for her to think. She leaned on the cart and sucked in a long breath. Once again, she mentally checked the list in her head. Slippers for Mom, another tie for Dad, that beautiful scarf for Eileen... Oh, why do I always put this off until Christmas Eve?

      Shoppers squeezed in front of her to get through the line to the rest of the store. Oh, please. You people are all procrastinators, just like me. Let’s see now… A scarf for Eileen, a pair of gloves for Aunt Louise, a Thighmaster for Larry. Ha! That’s my best gag gift. He will hate it, but that’s what he gets for teasing me all the time about being so skinny, not to mention all the “short” jokes. It’s the least a girl could do for her big brother.

      For crying out loud, it’s Christmas Eve. I’m so not ready. Uncle Peter gets the Broncos key chain. She checked the cart for wrapping paper and ribbons. The line shrank until she could see the cash register. Only four to go. Did I get the tape? Oh, there it is, under the Legos and darts for Larry’s kids. My sweet nephews will love those, along with the drum set.

      Come on, people—get this line moving, it’s almost four o’clock. I have gifts to wrap!

      Mary Lou felt the phone in her pocket vibrate. She dug it out to find a text message from the scrooge who owned the company she worked for. Get to the office. Meeting at 5:00. DO NOT BE LATE!

      Her heart dropped to her toes. What could possibly be wrong? What am I going to do? It’s an hour to the office on a good day. I can’t possibly check out and get through the parking lot in less than half an hour. I have to leave now. I have to leave my cart.

      She stepped out of line.

      Later the same day

      Denver, Colorado

      Mary Lou Stots steamed across the International Enterprises lobby. “I swear, I am going to kill Walt Pederson.”

      The two security guards gave her a look.

      “Oh.” Mary Lou reddened. “Did I say that out loud?”

      Both men studied security screens in front of them.

      She kept her pace and commented over her shoulder, “I’m sure you know what I mean. Merry Christmas.”

      Neither man responded.

      Joe Gillespie caught up to her. “That was some text I got. Do you know what’s up?”

      She quickened her pace. “You’re my boss. How would I know?”

      “I haven’t a clue. It looks like I’ll be late for our traditional Christmas Eve fried fish feast. Problem is… I’m the cook. “

      “I left my shopping cart full of gifts to get here on time. I don’t how I’m going to get my Christmas shopping done. And I have a date with Bobby tonight.”

      They entered the glass-enclosed conference room.

      Walt Pederson, owner and CEO of International Enterprises, sat at the head of a long conference table. He glanced up from reading what looked like a legal document. Six other employees sat on one side of the table.

      He growled. “It’s about time you got here.”

      Mary Lou bit her lip to keep from lashing out at him.

      Joe pulled out a chair.

      Walt stared daggers through Mary Lou. “Well, sit down. We have work to do.”

      Joe leaned forward. “I got here as soon as I could. What’s the emergency?”

      Walt shouted, “We’re short. If we don’t get this contract in here by the end of the year, our numbers will be less than the previous year. I can’t allow that to happen.”

      Joe raised his hand to stop the drama. “Walt, I’m here to do whatever it takes. Just tell me what you want me to do. The sales team is here. We can figure it out. Now, what’s the problem?”

      Walt stood. “It’s not what. It’s who. It’s Feldman. Feldman in Zedlav didn’t close on his rotten contract. If he had signed the contract, I’d be sitting pretty. But he didn’t, and now I’m not going to make the projected numbers. I need that contract, and I need it by the end of the year. One of you is flying out of here to Zedlav, Alaska, tomorrow morning. I’ve set up a meeting with Feldman on Wednesday morning, and you’re going to get that contract signed. Now, who is it going to be?”