MISTLETOE in the SNOW
BOOK ONE
A New Hope Sweet Christmas Romance
LACY ANDERSEN
MISTLETOE IN THE SNOW
Copyright 2017 by Lacy Andersen
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
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Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Excerpt from Caroling in the Snow
About the Author
Chapter One
The cell phone tucked away in his pants pocket screeched out Deck the Halls for the fifth time that morning, yanking Lance Barkley from a deep coma on the living room sofa. He turned over with a groan and cursed his assistant, Frankie, for changing his ring tone to a Christmas carol. Anyone who knew Lance knew that he didn’t do holiday cheers, or trees wrapped in lights, or carols. He didn’t do Christmas. At least, not since his father died five years ago this December.
He glanced up at the neon clock hanging on the wall. Sleep and the after effects of too much bourbon and beer blurred his vision, but even he could tell the morning was nearly gone. He’d slept through his alarm - again. Uncle Matthias and his loyal team of ads salesmen were waiting on him. They’d be livid.
Lance sprang from the couch, still dressed in a suit from yesterday’s evening out with an investor. He snagged a purple satin tie from his closet and with a quick dunk of his head under a streaming faucet of freezing water, he was out the door and sliding into the backseat of a taxi blaring a Mariah Carey version of I’ll Be Home for Christmas on its speakers. Barkley & Barkley advertising agency resided just a quick ten minute ride from his penthouse apartment in Minneapolis; eight minutes, on a good day. And right now, he needed a great day.
“Hey, boss, you’re late.” Those were the first words out of Frankie’s mouth as he came scrambling around the corner to his office.
Lance paused to catch a breath and roll his eyes. Frankie was sitting at his desk with a nicely starched white linen shirt and dress pants. He would’ve looked like any of the businessmen in this joint except for the burnt orange beanie nestled on top of his head. No matter how much Lance prodded, he just couldn’t get Frankie to burn that thing. It was as if it’d become permanently attached to his head, glued to the masses of uncombed dark curls that spilled out from the sides.
“Very helpful, thank you,” Lance finally managed to say with another roll of his blue eyes. “I don’t suppose you managed to stall them?”
“For three hours?” Frankie looked at his wrist where a large golden watch lay. “Not likely. Your uncle sees through my tricks. He’s furious you missed the meeting. He told me to call him the minute you got in.”
Lance swore under his breath and smoothed the wrinkles out of his shirt. He would’ve rather taken a few minutes to shave the five o’clock shadow on his chin and change his shirt, but Uncle Matthias seemed to have a second sense about when he was in the building. “Don’t bother. I’ll go see him now.”
“Good luck.” Frankie threw a mint at him. “You’re going to need it.”
Swearing again, Lance popped the mint in his mouth and made his way to his uncle’s office. He’d practically worn a path in the olive green carpet, he’d marched this way so many times with his head held low. The secretaries didn’t even bother to greet him anymore.
“You’re late.”
The same words seemed to echo from his uncle’s office as he pushed open the door. Lance ignored the nervous rumblings of his stomach and grinned. “How can I be late if I’m the boss?”
Uncle Matthias looked up from behind his giant oak desk. Permanent frown lines had etched their way into his face, making him appear much older than his age. His salt and pepper hair was combed meticulously to one side and framed the wearied lines across his forehead. If Lance caught his uncle in the right lighting, sometimes he could catch a glimpse of what his father would’ve looked like today. It was an eerie feeling that he didn’t like to dwell on.
“You’re not the boss yet,” Uncle Matthias grumbled. “And you’ll never be the boss if you don’t learn to grow up. What exactly were you doing last night?”
“Entertaining a future client,” Lance shot back, with an innocent shrug. “Just like you asked.”
“I don’t remember asking you to get the CEO of Blackjacks Gambling Services blazing drunk.”
He grinned. Last night had taken an interesting turn after dinner at the rooftop restaurant. A few drinks at a local bar had mutated into a tour of all the drinking establishments Minneapolis had to offer. He couldn’t remember much after the seventh round, but he knew it’d been a raucous time. “It’s not my fault Randy’s a lightweight. He turned out alright, though.”
“After the ER pumped out his stomach and gave him an IV drip,” Uncle Matthias countered. He glowered at Lance under thick black eyebrows. “Not exactly what I would call a great customer experience.”
“He had the time of his life,” Lance replied with another grin. “If I remember right, he ended up taking his hot nurse home. I think we’ll be hearing from him again. Very soon.”
Uncle Matthias pushed himself up from the desk and shook his head, pressing his lips into a tight line. He walked toward the window and looked down upon the street, his hands folded behind his back. A spark of nervous energy lit in Lance’s chest.
Usually, Uncle Matthias was a vocal man. If he could scream his anger, he would. Lance had been on the receiving end of many of his rants. They didn’t faze him. But this silence - this was bad. A silent Uncle Matthias was not a good one. It was the canary in the coalmine; the promise of worst things yet to come.
“When your father and I started this company twenty-eight years ago, you were just a babe, barely off your mother’s breast,” he began. Lance winced. He didn’t ever want to think about being on his mother’s breasts. “Your father always intended for you to take over his partnership. He spoke of it often. Before he died, he asked me to groom you into the co-CEO he knew you could be. I promised him that I would see it through.”
Lance nodded. He knew this story by heart. Uncle Matthias liked to pull it out for very strict lectures. “And you did, Uncle. I’ve earned my MBA, I’ve shadowed you for the past two years, and now I’ve begun building business for the company. I’ve done everything you’ve asked.”
“And yet, somehow you’ve failed.” Uncle Matthias gazed mournfully at his nephew. “We both have. I’ve never broken a promise in my life, but I’m afraid
I broke my promise to your father. You will never be ready to take on this role.”
Lance stood frozen in place, his pulse racing. Shame and betrayal coursed through his body, leaving his hands ice cold. “That’s not true, I’ll be ready. I want this.”
“You’re a loose cannon, my boy.” Matthias strolled back to his desk. His voice was calm and steady. “There was a time when I thought it was just a phase, but you’re a grown man now. The time for tom-foolery has long past. And yet, here you stand in my office, wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday and reeking of booze. I’ve no time for Playboys and wastes of space. Get out of my office.”
Anger began to replace the shame in Lance’s head. He gripped the back of a leather chair, his knuckles bone white. “I have done everything you’ve asked, Uncle.”
And he had. Ivy league school at eighteen. Internships with international businesses of prestige. An MBA from Stanford. Everything he’d done had been leading up to the moment he was to take his dad’s vacant roll at the business his family had built.
“But you’re still acting like a child,” Uncle Matthias shot back with a growl. “You’re not a man. A man knows his duties and his responsibilities. You are a boy.”
Lance bit into the side of his cheek until the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. As much as he hated to admit it, his uncle wasn’t totally off base. He’d pushed the line as far as he could and created some wild times because of it. But learning how to run a business didn’t mean he couldn’t have some fun once in a while. He didn’t want to end up stuck in the mud like his boring uncle. Still, he needed Uncle Matthias on his side. This position meant everything to him. It was only with his uncle’s approval that he could take up that role.
“What do I have to do?” Lance asked, his voice low and serious. It was the closest he’d ever come to begging. “Tell me what I have to do to convince you I’m ready.”
Uncle Matthias shook his head. “I’m not sure that’s possible.”
“Tell me. I’ll prove it to you.”
There was a long moment of silence in which Lance held his breath. Outside the large office windows, a flurry of snow began to twirl and fall to the streets below. The twin cities hadn’t received a substantial snow yet this season, and most of the office was hoping for a white Christmas. With two weeks left until the big day, every snowflake was a cause for celebration.
The only think Lance was hoping for were the infamous holiday parties his neighbors liked to throw. Nothing like getting buzzed on expensive liquors and peeing your name in the snow off the balcony of their third story apartment. That was the kind of holiday he preferred.
“I’ll tell you what.” Uncle Matthias leaned back in his ergonomic brown leather chair, resting his arms on the armrests. “I’ve got a family issue down state. Your grandmother, Pearl, started a foundation in her little hometown of New Hope about fifty years ago. This company has been supporting it since her trust fund ran out, but I’m thinking it’s time to close it down. I want you to go handle the dirty work of getting to know their finances, report back to me over the next two weeks, and when the time is right - shut her down. Think you can handle that?”
Lance swallowed hard. Two weeks in a tiny southeastern Minnesota town in the dead of winter? Might as well be stuck on a deserted island. He’d rather eat his own leg than spend a night in one of those cheery little highway motels with the nosy receptionist and the stale donut breakfasts. But he didn’t have a choice.
“Sure,” he said through gritted teeth. “I’ll do it.”
“Good.” Uncle Matthias looked pleased with himself, as if he’d just found the cure to cancer. “You handle this job with some class and restraint, I think we might just have a new CEO on the team.”
Lance thanked his uncle and then retreated, before he could change his mind. He had a trip to plan with Frankie, immediately. The sooner he left, the sooner he’d get back.
And with any luck, he wouldn’t die of complete boredom in New Hope, Minnesota.
Chapter Two
The harsh noise of the tape splitting from the roll across a box of her ex-boyfriend’s stuff caused Gemma Rink to pause. This was the last of it; an assorted collection of a year’s worth of memories and trinkets. Tickets to a jazz festival. A few CDs. The t-shirt he’d left at her place last week after falling asleep on her couch. His Red Sox sweatshirt. And three books she’d borrowed, but never read.
Placed on top of the pile was the bright blue box she’d dropped in, sealed shut. She’d refused to even look at it last night at the restaurant. The moment he’d dropped to his knee in front of her, with the little blue box in hand, she’d known it wasn’t right. She’d been feeling that way for the past four months. This wasn’t the man she was meant to spend the rest of her life with - that much was clear. Everything else was still fuzzy.
“You’re making a huge mistake.” Scott appeared behind the breakfast bar, his long-sleeved t-shirt rolled up to his elbows. He stood just over six-foot tall with short cropped blond hair. A walking Ken doll, her mother had called him. He’d agreed to show up early to pick up his stuff, but hadn’t been taking it well. A steaming hot mug of coffee in his hands told her he wasn’t ready to leave. “We’ve got a great thing going here, babe. You don’t want to do this.”
Gemma wearily pushed her blonde waves out of her face and dropped the final box on the counter in front of him. “I don’t want just a good thing. I want a great thing. You and I are settling. We both deserve better.”
He sneered and for the first time she noticed how crooked his bottom teeth were. “You can’t do better than this. We fit, babe. The minute I walk out that door, you’re going to regret this. It’s Christmas. Who breaks up before the holidays?”
She sighed and tried to ignore the insults, but the truth was, she did hate the thought of being alone on Christmas. But, she’d been over Scott a long time. It just took her until now to notice.
“Goodbye, Scott.” She led him to the door, took the mug from his hand and replaced it with the box. “Good luck to you.”
“Call me when you come to your senses,” he said over his shoulder.
“Not likely,” she mumbled as she closed the door.
All it took was two deep breaths with her back against the wall and Gemma was moving again, determined to get on with her day. There was less than two weeks until Christmas and a million things to accomplish at the New Hope Foundation. This was their busiest season. And as its Director, she didn’t have a minute to waste.
By the time she rolled into the office, her two employees were already there, standing watch at the front desk. Laurie Fink, her statuesque and stylish red-headed office manager, and Chloe Walker, her curvy and confident accountant with ebony skin. Together, the three of them made up the whole of New Hope’s foundation and had been inseparable since Gemma had hired them both almost three years ago.
“Spill,” Chloe demanded as Gemma handed each of them a piping hot styrofoam cup of coffee from Blue Stem Bistro, just down the block. “What happened last night?”
“Give her some time,” Laurie shushed Chloe, her red hair framing her face. “Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about it.” She turned to Gemma with a concerned frown on her perfectly coral lips. “You really don’t have to talk about it. It’s none of our business.”
“Oh, yes she does,” Chloe replied with a shake of her chunky purple earrings. “And it’s totally our business if our amazing boss is leaving us to move halfway across the country to join the big leagues. I’m thinking about firing up a union strike.”
Gemma smiled and tossed her empty cup in the trash. “You don’t belong to a union. Besides, no need to worry. I turned them down.”
A headhunter had been spending the better part of six weeks trying to get Gemma to apply for a position at a giant non-profit operating on the west coast. It’d be a huge step in terms of pay and experience, but it also meant working under somebody else and leaving her home town of New Hope. From the get-go
, Gemma had been very hesitant. Saying no to the headhunter had been a sort of relief.
“Why?” Chloe demanded, jumping up from Laurie’s chair. “You were perfect for the job.”
Gemma laughed, amused by her friend’s sudden change in attitude. “Just a second ago you were going to strike if I took the job and now you’re angry I turned it down?”
“So?” Chloe frowned and shrugged her shoulders. “I’m a complicated woman. But, that wasn’t a complicated offer. They would’ve paid you double what you’re earning here. I thought you wanted that trip to Europe with your mom.”
It was true, they would’ve paid her a lot more. But in Gemma’s mind, if something sounded too good to be true, it was better to avoid it. Besides, changing jobs and moving cross country meant time and money, something that she didn’t want to risk.
Her mother had just come off of her second battle with breast cancer and second round of chemo. So far, scans were clear, but that didn’t mean they were safe. Her mother deserved a happy distraction. Flying to Europe would be the trip of a lifetime for Gemma and her mom - something they’d always dreamed of. And Gemma was going to surprise her mother with the tickets come Christmas day.
“I’m so close to having enough,” Gemma said with a flurry of her hands. “With our Christmas bonuses coming up, I’ll finally have what I need to take us on that trip. I have to at least see this holiday season through.”
Chloe barked out a laugh and tugged on her thick black braids. “That’s what you said before your car broke down.”
“And your AC busted in your apartment,” Laurie offered.
“Or Scott needed to borrow money to pay his rent,” Chloe continued. “How is the old man, anyway?”
Gemma’s eyes grew wide and she shot them both a guilty look before retreating hastily to her office. They followed on her heels, not quick to give up a line of questioning. Her office was covered in framed black and white nature photography. Her favorite - a snapshot of a gnarled old tree bent from years in the cold and harsh Minnesota winters - hung above her desk. She dropped herself into her chair, avoiding her employees’ glares.
Mistletoe in the Snow: A New Hope Sweet Christmas Romance - Book 1 Page 1
