Well this one wasn’t meant to happen at all lol. I’d subbed Dark Streets, then lockdown 1 happened. I was standing in a supermarket queue, the sixth one of the day, just trying to get the basics. And my muse wanted to know what a lockdown Christmas would look like. So I wrote this… and now it’s starting to look horribly prophetic 😦
It Started With A Typo…
While working from home, accountant Carlyle Stevenson is told by his boss to contact a client ASAP by video call, and berate her for not filing her accounts for the last several months—long before social distancing began. Since the request is urgent, Carlyle fires off the email, and sits and waits for her to answer. Only thing is he’s sent the invite to the wrong person.
Being stuck at home is nothing new for candle maker Kristen Lawson, as she usually works out of her garage or kitchen. She’s in the middle of making a new batch of candles for her online business, when she receives the email marked urgent. Even though it’s not her accountancy firms she clicks the link and begins the call.
What begins as an honest mistake blossoms into something more, but can a socially distanced relationship ever really get off the ground?
A second or two later, the call connected. An empty room greeted her. The red office chair stood in front of a tall bookcase. What she could see of the brown desk was cluttered with files and a steaming cup. So much for this being urgent. “Hello?”
No reply seemed forthcoming, so she turned away from the laptop and gave attention to her melting pot of wax. It smelled divine. She double checked she’d written things down correctly. There’d be no point in crafting this new scent, or putting it on the website, if she couldn’t recreate it.
“Hello. Sorry about that. The dog wanted to go out.”
She smiled at the pot of wax and answered the man’s voice coming from behind her. “I know how that goes. Give me a couple of minutes. I’m in the middle of something.”
“I don’t have time.”
Biting back a rude response about how he’d been the one not there when she’d called, Kristen held up a hand. “I need to pour this into the moulds. Can we talk at the same time? Your email did say urgent. I’m assuming you need to talk to me about my accounts?”
“That would be why I set up the meeting, but I’m afraid I’ll need your full attention. I’m Carlyle Stevenson.”
Kristen turned around. The bloke on the screen in front of her was…fit. Short, spiky dark hair, five o’clock shadow, baby blue eyes, and obviously dressing down as he was in a shirt and jumper, rather than a suit. “Kristen Lawson. I’m assuming Viceroys’ passed on my details to you. I’ve been with them up until now, but Mr. Viceroy is retiring and as he handles everything himself, the firm is closing. But then of course you know that, else you wouldn’t be calling me.”
“Ummm… No, there is nothing anywhere here from Viceroys’.” The man frowned and checked the folder in front of him. “I’m after a Kirsten Lawson. Overdue accounts for the last five months.”
Kristen shook her head. “Not me. I’m Kristen Lawson.”
The cheeks of the handsome hunk on the other side of the screen turned a delicious shade of pink, and tapping echoed from the speakers. “Can I ask your email?”
“How about you tell me which email you thought you’d sent the invite to?” Kristen hadn’t come down in the last shower. She wasn’t about to give her email out to any Tom, Dick, or Carlyle who asked. Even if he was the most exciting thing to have happened to her all week.
“It’s not protocol. I can’t give out confidential client information like that.”
“Surely you have the email in front of you or a copy of it in your sent folder, but OK, fine. Kristen Lawson at…” She broke off as he held up a finely manicured hand. Wow. That she wasn’t expecting. And he wasn’t married, either. Unless he was one of these modern males who didn’t do wedding rings.
“Can you spell that?”
“T-h-a-t,” she shot back. Then quirking a brow, she continued. “Kristen, spelled K-r-i-s-t-e-n.”
His cheeks turned even rosier. “Then I apologise, Miss Lawson. I typed the name wrong and put K-r-i rather than K-i-r. It wasn’t you I needed to get ahold of at all. If you wish to make a complaint you can email the firm directly or call them. All the details will be on the email I sent you as I used my work account. Once again, my apologies for disturbing you. Have a good day.”
The call ended abruptly.
Kristen didn’t know whether to laugh or let the irritation build within her. A twenty-first century wrong number. But who would have imagined two similar names at the same email server?