by Susan Hatler
She hadn’t even hung up the receiver entirely, when I asked, “What do you mean, Adam’s gone? Gone where?”
She looked at my face, which had to be tense, and a knowing smile crossed her face. “He’s gone back to the city, but fear not, fair maiden, your prince will return tomorrow.”
I gave her a look. “Oh.”
“He didn’t tell you?” she asked, waiting for me to shake my head before speaking again. “Men. They’re such excellent communicators. Not.”
“Dave in the doghouse again?” I asked.
“Apparently it’s too much effort to send a text letting me know there’s a game on TV and he wouldn’t be coming over as planned last night.” She rolled her eyes, and stapled a couple of papers together. “I heard about the job offer from Bernice. You going to take it?”
I paused. “I’m not ready to give up on Silver Bells just yet. Maybe the new buyer will want to keep everything as is,” I said, the words “day spa” flashing through my head in neon lights.
“I’m sensing we need snacks.” Harmony opened a desk drawer and took out a bag of cookies, taking one herself before handing the packet to me and settling back in her chair.
I laughed. “I’m surprised you haven’t got popcorn in there!”
Her eyes widened. “Moi?”
I adored Harmony, but she did love gossip, although she was never malicious. “There’s really nothing to tell. I think Adam will sell, but I’m hoping the new buyer will run it the way it’s always been run.”
“Oh, Faith. Do you really think that’s a possibility?” Harmony asked, just as the front door opened and a woman strode in like she owned the place. She wore a long white fur coat, high heels, and her straight red hair didn’t have one strand out of place. She looked ferocious.
I held out my hand to the woman. “Welcome to Silver Bells Luxury Tours.”
“Looking for the manager.” She thrust her coat into my outstretched hand and stamped her very expensive looking shoes on the lobby floor, instead of the rug, the snow melting into a small puddle. She looked expectantly at me, and then snapped her fingers. “Hello?”
I blinked, shocked at her rudeness. “I’m the manager of Silver Bells. May I help you?”
She took a step back and looked me up and down. “Really? You’re Faith? Not at all what I was expecting.”
I was wondering who she was and what exactly she’d been expecting (and why she was expecting anything at all) when she handed me a business card: Tiffany Preston.
I handed the card to Harmony, who glanced at it before muttering under her breath. “Cruella De Vil, killer of puppies and sourer of milks.”
I stifled a giggle, turning it into a cough, and immediately Tiffany covered her mouth with her hand. Behind her stood another woman dressed in a sharp suit, which was totally unsuitable for the outdoor elements of Christmas Mountain.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand how I can help you.”
Tiffany sighed theatrically. “We’re here for Kline. Your boss?”
“Ah, I’m sorry, but Mr. Kline is out of town at the moment. If you would like to spe—”
“Yes, I know he’s out of town at the moment.” Tiffany held her hand up, and spoke as though to a child. “We left him in New York several hours ago before flying here on a private jet.”
The other woman stepped forward. “Hello, I’m Cass. We work with Adam, and he asked us to take a look around at the business to see where improvements can be made.” She smiled kindly, clearly still in possession of a soul, unlike Tiffany.
“Improvements? I don’t und—”
Tiffany sighed again. With any luck she’d hyperventilate and have to return to the city.
“You do know that Adam is selling this place?” she asked, as if wanting to bring me up to speed. “Well, he wants to get the best price he can, obviously, so we’re here to see where the business is failing and how we can improve it. We won’t be long. I can’t wait to get back to civilization. So, if you could show us where his office is, schedule a tour for us, and we’ll have four coffees.”
I showed them to the coffee bar and then to Adam’s office.
“We should have this wrapped up today, or tomorrow tops,” Tiffany said, sipping her espresso. “Adam is floating the idea to some of his corporate buddies in Manhattan, who are always looking for little projects to take on and invest in.”
I plastered a smile on my face. “A shame you can’t stay longer.”
Tiffany flicked her glossy red hair over her shoulder and sat down at Adam’s desk. “We need a quick sale so that Adam can be back for the Plaza Christmas Ball. We go together every year, and I prefer to have his undivided attention.”
As she turned her undivided attention to the paperwork on Adam’s desk, I heard the phone ringing in my office. I hurried along the corridor and sank down into my chair, my head spinning. We go together every year.
“Hello?” I asked, forgetting my usual greeting—that’s how flummoxed I was about Tiffany’s appearance.
“Faith? It’s Adam.”
My belly fluttered at his voice. “Hi, Adam.”
“I’m sorry for running out on you without a heads-up, but I had a call in the middle of the night and I didn’t want to wake you.”
I interrupted him. “It’s fine. Harmony explained.”
There was silence for a moment. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Um, no.
“Look, a couple of members of my team will be arriving today. They shouldn’t get in your way, they’re just there to—”
“Yes, Tiffany and company. Not the jewelry, of course. I’ve already had the pleasure.”
Silence again. “I meant to warn you but it’s just been one thing after another here. How’s it going?”
“All good,” I said, except that he was going to the Plaza Christmas Ball with that obnoxious woman when he was supposedly interested in me. “I should go and check if they need anything.”
“Okay,” he said. I heard Adam call to someone that he’d be right there. “Another crisis. I’ll be back tomorrow. Faith . . . I miss you.”
My eyes watered. “I miss you, too.”
Silence filled my ear, and I wished I had a rewind button so I could hear that last part again. I smiled. Things couldn’t be that serious with Tiffany if he was telling me he missed me.
I returned to Adam’s office, having stopped by Harmony’s desk to develop a plan for operation “no day spa” so that Adam’s crew could report back that business was picking up here. Right on cue, Adam’s phone rang and I answered, putting it on speakerphone.
“Hello?” Morgan’s voice came through the line. “I booked a tour at Silver Bells Luxury Tours and I’m so excited about it. But we’ve just arrived at the airport and there are no rides available. I don’t know how we’re going to get there in time for the tour.”
I stifled a grin. “Mrs. Simmons? Yes, we’ve been expecting you. That’s no problem at all. Leave it with me and I’ll get a car to you right away.”
I dialed Ruby’s cell phone number, and kept it on speaker. “Christmas Mountain Rental Cars, how may I assist your every need?”
“Hello, it’s Faith from Silver Bells,” I said, wanting to roll my eyes at Ruby’s overkill. “I need a car sent to the airport right away to pick up a couple of guests, a Mr. and Mrs. Simmons? That’s perfect, thank you.”
Over the course of the next hour, one disaster after another occurred, courtesy of Morgan, Ruby, Morgan’s brother Connor, and even Harmony herself, who hid in the bathroom while making the call, each one dealt with professionally and swiftly by yours truly.
Cass shook her head. “I didn’t realize how busy the business was here, Faith. I’m impressed. You’re clearly the glue that holds this place together.”
I smiled gratefully at her, feeling glad she could pass on to a prospective buyer that I was indispensable. If I could be kept on as manager of Silver Bells, then I could safeguard everyone’s jobs, and hopefully keep thin
gs more or less the way they were.
“Faith, you seem to be the driving force here,” Cass said. “Tell us how you think we can improve things.”
Tiffany shot her a look. “I don’t think we need Faith’s input. The figures are all here and our tours later are all we need.”
Cass shook her head. “Adam was very clear that he wanted Faith’s input.”
“Well, when Adam gets back, then he can ask for Faith’s input. But in the meantime we have two days to sort this mess out before he comes back.”
“Adam will be back tomorrow,” I said.
Tiffany’s face wrinkled. “And when exactly did he tell you this?”
“When he called this afternoon,” I said, annoyed that she clearly had it in for me.
I spent the afternoon with Tiffany and Cass pointing out areas, which I thought could be enhanced to bring in more visitors, and Cass nodded, taking notes, and asking questions. Tiffany followed in stony silence.
By the end of the day, business was all wrapped up and Tiffany stalked past me while Cass was thanking me and saying goodbye.
“Don’t worry about Tiffany. She’s jealous of you, you know.”
I was astonished. “Of me? Why?”
Cass smiled. “Because Adam speaks highly of you. He and Tiffany dated a couple of years ago.”
“I was under the impression that they still were,” I said, remembering what Tiffany had said about the Plaza Christmas Ball. “She said they go to the same ball together every year.”
Cass laughed. “Ha, she wishes. Well, they both go to the Christmas ball every year, but definitely not together. Their dating was short lived. Tiff is very high maintenance. I shouldn’t be saying this, but Tiffany has had her sights set on Adam since he broke up with her. Now that she knows he’s interested in you—”
“In me?” I asked, my heart beating faster.
“We know Adam well enough to hear it in his voice,” Cass said, smiling at me. “But when Tiffany sets her sights on something or someone, she usually gets it. Nothing stands in her way. Just be prepared.”
“It’s been a pleasure having you here,” I said, feeling like Cass was a new friend.
“We’ve got all your ideas here, Faith. You build a strong case. I’ll make sure your ideas get presented, I promise. Take care.”
We shook hands and I stared after Cass, thinking back over what she had said and feeling more than a bit worried. Tiffany was the kind of woman who got what she wanted, whatever the cost. I couldn’t help but worry that I was about to lose Adam, even before I officially had him.
Chapter Sixteen
As much as I loved Christmas, losing Ms. King and Mr. Kline brought on a new tinge of sadness. Both of them had been the epitome of Christmas spirit—Ms. King with her Christmas concerts, and Mr. Kline? Well, Mr. Kline was Christmas. Knowing how much they had both reveled in this special time of year, I wanted to allow myself one special day of remembrance, which was why I planned to hang ornaments on The Sharing Tree.
The Sharing Tree sat beside Christmas Falls—the sixty-foot waterfall that fed Christmas River—and hanging an ornament on the Douglas fir tree had long been a tradition in Christmas Mountain, so I didn’t need to explain it to Adam when I asked him to come along Thursday afternoon after he returned. The Sharing Tree had been here since I could remember, and had been a huge part of the town’s Christmas preparations. Everyone came to remember loved ones and hang an ornament on one of the hundreds of branches, and there was a bench close by called Kissing Bench where you could sit and talk above the roar of The Falls.
“Of course I’ll come with you,” Adam said when I suggested it upon his return from New York. “But I’d understand if you prefer to go alone. I don’t want to intrude on your grief.”
I shook my head, remembering how he’d avoided anything to do with The Sharing Tree when we’d come with the tour group a couple of weeks ago. But this time he seemed interested in the idea and open with me.
“The Sharing Tree can be a happy place, Adam,” I said, feeling glad he was back. “A place where you sit and talk to the people you loved, and remember Christmases past.”
“I’m afraid there aren’t many past Christmases for me. I rarely celebrated it in New York.”
“Wow, even Ebenezer Scrooge had Christmases past,” I said, nudging him lightly in the ribs.
“Bah humbug,” he replied, with a grin, before slipping his arm around me as we walked.
There had been fresh snow during the night, and the climb up the steps to The Sharing Tree felt magical. Clouds dotted the endless blue sky looking so white and perfect in contrast to the previous gray days. The sun shined brightly, lighting up the snow with a brilliant display of iridescent sparkles like nature’s fairy lights.
Adam slipped his hand around mine, making it easy to forget the things which were troubling me. We reached Kissing Bench and I wiped away the thin layer of snow with my glove before sitting down and taking a small package out of my pocket. I pulled my gloves off with my teeth and then unwrapped the red and white striped tissue paper before taking out a Christmas tree ornament.
“I chose this one for Ms. King.” I held it up in the air and let it spin on the gold thread attached to a gold hook. “As soon as I saw it I thought of her.”
“A choir girl.” He pressed a kiss to my temple and pulled me closer. “I’m sure Ms. King would’ve loved that.”
I laid my head on his shoulder and stared at the little choir girl dressed in a baby blue gown, the skirt beautifully sculpted to resemble the folds of fabric. Her angelic face had long lashes gracing her rosy cheeks and her sweet mouth opened in song. Dark hair fell about her shoulders in ringlets, and she held an open book with the words to “Silent Night” etched onto the pages, the text so tiny I had to squint to read the words.
The sunlight picked up the fine glitter on the ornament, reminding me of the ever-present glint in my old mentor’s eyes. I smiled. From my other pocket I pulled out another box and handed it to Adam. “I got you something,” I said.
“For me?” he asked, sounding touched. He looked at me a moment before taking the small package, wrapped in the same candy cane striped paper. “What is it?”
I laughed. “Open it and find out.”
He unwrapped the tissue and took out another Christmas tree ornament, turning it over in his hands. He was so engrossed in looking at it that he didn’t even notice me taking the tissue paper from him and putting it in my pocket.
“Do you like it?” I asked.
“Nobody has ever given me a gift like this before . . .” He looked at me with a stunned expression a moment, before turning his attention back to the ornament—a porcelain book painted with intricate detail. The front cover showed a house with a fire burning brightly in one of the windows and a Christmas wreath on the front door. Snow lay on the ground and on the roof and chimney, and across the big full moon, Santa’s sleigh flew into the night with nine tiny reindeer pulling it. The title of the book read: ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas. “My favorite poem from when I was a kid,” he whispered, as his eyes watered.
“I thought you might like to hang it on The Sharing Tree,” I said, my throat tightening as I gestured behind us. “For your dad.”
He breathed out slowly, before turning to me. “I can’t believe you remembered the poem I used to read with my mom and dad every year.”
I nodded. “You told me in your office.”
“I love it, Faith. Thank you,” he said, the corner of his mouth curving upward in a sad smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “But I don’t think I should hang it on the tree.”
My eyebrows came together. “Why not?”
He gave me a sideways glance. “I’m allergic to Douglas fir trees.”
“Wait, what?” I asked, but then the corner of his mouth hitched up further. “No you’re not!”
“I am.” He nodded, squeezing my shoulder. “I break out in big ugly hives and have to stay indoors for the whole of t
he winter. Do you want that on your conscience?”
I lifted an eyebrow. “Adam Kline, you’re telling me fibs.”
“Okay, I’m not allergic to Douglas fir trees,” he said, giving a small chuckle before his expression sobered. “But I don’t think my dad would want me hanging an ornament in his honor.”
“Why not?” I asked, taking Adam’s face in my hands. “Adam, your dad adored you. Not a day went by that he didn’t talk about you. Whatever you think he might’ve been holding against you, I can promise you . . . he wasn’t.”
“You don’t know about when I ate the last sugar cookie in fifth grade,” he said, his eyes widening as if he’d robbed a bank or something. “He’d been looking forward to a cookie after sorting out the Christmas lights but I ate every last one on the plate anyway.”
“Seriously? Adam, he’d have given them to you anyway. That’s what parents do.”
He paused for a moment. “One time, I took his brand new boots to dress up my snowman for a photograph. I forgot to bring them back inside and when he got up for work the next day they were full of snow and chewed up by raccoons. He had to wear his old boots with a hole in them and caught a cold. He was blowing his nose all through Christmas dinner that year.”
“Oh, Adam . . .” I wanted to hug the little boy who had kept all these things inside, feeling guilty over normal kid behavior. “These are the things parents look back on and laugh about. Your dad was the most forgiving person I ever met. He loved you. You should hear some of the things I did as a kid. They’d blow your mind. But my parents love me, anyway,” I said, realizing how lucky I was and how I needed to stop letting the divorce come between my parents and me.
He dropped his forehead to mine. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Faith. No wonder Dad loved you.”
My chest warmed. “The feeling was mutual. Now, tell me. . . What’s this really about?”
“I let him down,” he said, closing his eyes. “I knew how much he loved me and how he’d started this business, Silver Bells Luxury Tours. But I stayed in New York every year. I put work above all else, and I can’t bear to think about how much pain I caused him.”
