The two women were a mismatch, and Finley should give him a raise for the pain and suffering of having to listen to Kat throw wet blankets on top of Trish every time they talked.

“I’ll have to order two new doggy figurines for my nativity set,” Trish said. Though seated in front of her computer, she was doing zero work.

Kat, on the other hand, was typing so fast and hard that her keyboard trembled.

He glanced at the time. 10:40 a.m. Why wasn’t Finley back? At this time of day, she often went on a bike ride—like she had this morning—in order to exercise their four most athletic dogs. It was taking her longer than usual to return.

Clearly, riding a bike attached to the leashes of four big dogs seemed like a recipe for death. If Finley had any sense, this would have occurred to her.

Think about coding.

Under normal circumstances, he could concentrate fully when writing code. He could lose himself in it, which he liked. He also liked that, as the author of it, he could make a website or a piece of software or a program do exactly what he wanted it to do. In the real world, things sometimes didn’t add up or couldn’t be controlled. But in the world of coding, they did. And could.

“Luke, have I told you about my nativity set?” Trish asked.

“No.”

“It’s the most adorable thing ever. Several years ago, I found this website where you can order wooden pieces for your nativity set to represent your family members and pets. Then you paint them to personalize them even more. Right after I started working here, I began ordering dog figurines that look like each of Furry Tails’ dogs.” She laughed happily. “As you can imagine, it’s been a full-time job to keep my nativity set up-to-date. It’s also been a pure, pure joy. My set includes three hundred animals at this point.”

Luke grunted.

“I don’t own a nativity set,” Kat said.

“Oh, but they’re such a precious reminder of the reason for the season. Of little baby Jesus in the manger. Emmanuel, God with us.”

“I don’t need to be reminded of anything,” Kat stated. “I have an excellent memory. Plus, I refuse to be a victim of holiday commercialism. For Christmas, I put up my artificial tree, wrap it in white lights, and hang identical ornaments. It’s more than adequate.”

“But—” Trish tried to interject.

“I spent less than one hundred dollars on all of that seven years ago and haven’t spent a dime on Christmas decorations since.”