"Esther, I left a packing box on your desk, along with a cup of my spectacular eggnog."

My heart skips the usual beat as Tom’s voice filters through the office wall. Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. The radio has been tuned to 106.7 since the day after Thanksgiving, and plays Christmas music, non-stop. Tom loves the holiday season. And his enthusiasm is always contagious. But this year I’m not feeling the least bit festive. In fact, I’m downright depressed. My boss, the eligible Dr. Tomas J. Kendall, is about to retire. In just a few hours, we’ll go our separate ways.

Swiping a tear, I wrap the picture of my grandchildren in newspaper and place it in the box. I give the waiting room a wistful glance. Garland and bows decorate the windows and doors. An evergreen, decked out in twinkle lights and ornaments, stands in the corner. Just weeks ago, Tom and I had shared cookies and cider, all the while elbowing each other for decorating space. For me, the event had been bittersweet. It was, I knew, the last time we’d share that experience.

I've been Tom's assistant for more than ten years, a job I'd begun on the heels of an ugly divorce. I loved the work from the very first day. And somewhere along the way, I'd fallen in love with Tom, as well. Of course, he didn't know it. No fool like an old fool, I remind myself. Oh, I know that I’m more than just an employee to Tom. We’ve become good friends over the years. When had I begun to want more than friendship?

"Ettie?" Suddenly, Tom is behind me. At some point during our years together, he nicknamed me Ettie. "Do you need another box?"

Forcing a smile, I turn and reach out. "Thanks." My pulse races as his hand brushes mine.

"Why Ettie, you haven’t even touched your eggnog!" He feigns outrage at my indiscretion. "Do I need to write you a prescription?"

Forcing a smile, I slowly sip. "This is spiked," I accuse playfully. "Spiked eggnog in the workplace. Fine thing!"

"That, my darling, Ettie, is why it’s so spectacular. Besides, as of five minutes ago, I’m officially retired." Tom gestures at the clock.

Had Tom just called me, darling?

I glance at the single box at his feet. "Is that all you're taking?"

Tom shrugs. "You know I travel light. Besides, when I sold my practice to Dr. Ashanti, she bought the office, lock, stock, and barrel. She thinks the transition will be easier for the patients in a familiar environment. She was disappointed that she couldn't persuade you to stay on, as well."

Dr. Ashanti had made me a good offer. But every time I imagined the office without Tom, I found myself swiping at tears. There is just no way I could face each day here without him. Unlike the patients, for me, this familiar environment would not make for an easy transition.

"But surely you have more than one box of personal items?"

"I've been taking things out a little at a time," Tom explains.

I nod, swallowing over the lump in my throat. That would have been the practical thing to do, but I’ve left my packing to the very last minute. I've been hiding behind a wall of denial.

"When do you sail?" I continue to fill the box while Amy Grant softly croons about her grown-up Christmas wish. The first thing on Tom's new agenda is to sail away on an extended cruise. And unbeknownst to him, my heart will be sailing away with him.

"I sail on Christmas Day. Hard to believe that I'll be in Alaska by New Year’s Eve."

"Why Alaska?" I ask, struggling to keep my tone casual as I tape up the box.

Tom lifts it off the desk and places it on the floor. "Truth is, I had a heck of a time deciding where to go, first. And for once, I have to say that you were no help, Ettie," he waves his finger at me.

I offer a weak smile, recalling that conversation. Tom brought up the subject one evening after the office closed. He waved brochures and sounded like a kid contemplating the purchase of a high-tech game system. "What do you think, Ettie? Where would you go, first?" And that’s when it hit me. Not only was I about to lose my best friend, I was soon to lose the man I’d come to love. So I feigned a headache, ending the discussion before it even began. How could I possibly help Tom with travel plans that would put an ocean between us?

Merry Christmas, My Darling Ettie -2 (Continue)