by penny watson
Andi cringed as his big, beefy hand reached out to stroke her hair. She tilted her head away and leveled him with a glare. “No touchy, touchy, Harry. I spent hours getting ready for this shindig. I don’t want you messing me up.”
Harry’s eyebrows shot up. “You wanna get together afterward? Maybe have a beer or something?”
“Aren’t you forgetting something, Harry?”
“What’s that?”
“Your wife.”
He sighed, a long drawn-out affair that only men married for twenty plus-years could do. “Oh yeah, Glenda. Forgot.”
Andi placed the tracker in her handbag. If all went well, she’d be able to sneak it into Sven Klaus’s belongings tonight. One way or another, she would discover where the toy workshop was located. Her antennae were way up concerning Klaus Enterprises.
There were too many unanswered questions about the family business. Every lead she’d followed had turned into a dead-end. No one knew where the factories were located, who they employed, or what kind of delivery system they utilized. Maybe they were using illegal child labor or were violating EPA regulations? Perhaps Klaus Enterprises was a money-laundering front for a drug cartel? Something was definitely going on, and she was determined to be the reporter who broke the story.
Andi De Luca wasn’t talented at girlie stuff like decorating or how to style her hair. But she excelled at sniffing out a story. She could tell when the politicians were lying (most of the time), ferret out the white-collar cheats, and zero in on celebrity cover-ups. Sure, The Scoop was a rag. She’d never win a Pulitzer for her work. But her articles kept the tabloid selling like hotcakes. Folks just had to know if Bigfoot was real and whom the latest starlet was boinking to get the plum roles. Most importantly, her job paid the bills. She had a whole family counting on her.
She glanced over her shoulder at Harry who was back to gawking at her ass. “And five kids. Don’t forget about them.”
Harry’s eyes snapped up, but he was completely unembarrassed about ogling her. “You should really dress up more often. Wear skirts. You have great gams, a fabulous tush, and your face looks terrific with all that stuff on it, too.” He nodded at her in approval.
“It’s called make-up, Harry.” The Clinique girl at Bloomie’s had expertly applied her “face” earlier in the evening.
“Yeah, well, whatever. You look hot. I sort of feel sorry for Sven Klaus.”
Andi shot him an incredulous look. “Why in the world would you say that? He is obviously hiding something. I’m just doing my job, getting the story.”
Harry chuckled. “I feel sorry for the poor bastard, because he’s gonna feel like he got hit over the head with a cast iron skillet once he gets a load of you.” He licked his lips. “You look like sex on a stick, baby. Believe me, Sven Klaus is toast tonight.’
Andi rolled her eyes and went back to organizing her purse. “He had every opportunity to schedule a legit interview with me, and he passed.”
Harry shrugged. “When’s your sis showing up?”
“Any minute now. You gotta get lost. She doesn’t know about this investigation, and I know she’ll be pissed if she finds out.” She grabbed Harry by the arm and led him to the front door.
He frowned. “You shouldn’t keep secrets from your sister.”
She froze, and then pushed the momentary stab of guilt right out the window. No time for that tonight. “Thanks for the tracker and the profound advice, Dear Abby. I’ll call if I have any trouble.”
Harry lifted his hands. “Okay. I’ll back off, but if you call me, make sure you’re wearing that dress.” He waggled his eyebrows.
Andi barked out a laugh. “Gotta give you points for perseverance.” She shooed him out the door. “Phew.”
She loaded her purse with lipstick and cash to cover up the tracker. Just in case her nosy sister decided to rummage through her stuff. Hannah was going to be extremely suspicious when she saw Andi’s outfit.She felt sort of badly about using her sister this way, but at least it was getting her out of the house to socialize—something Hannah had been avoiding since her husband died.
Feminine, sweet, and sympathetic to every needy being in the five boroughs of New York, Hannah was the opposite of Andi in every way. Ever since David had succumbed to cancer, she’d gotten even worse. Her rambunctious twin boys ran her ragged. But tonight, she’d be immersed in a glamorous event and hopefully too engaged to notice Andi slinking off to follow her story.
The intercom buzzed loudly, and Andi breathed a sigh of relief that Harry had already left.
“Who is it?”
“Hi, Andi! It’s me. Are you ready?”
“Yep, come on up. Tell the limo to wait.”
“I’ll be there in a second.”
Nice that David’s old law firm had sprung for limo service. Andi was adjusting her hose when she heard the rap on her door. She peeked through the peephole and swung open the door when she saw Hannah waving.
“Hi, hon. Let me grab my purse and we can head out.”
“Andi!” Hannah stepped into the entryway. “Oh…My…God. You look incredible!” She shook her head. “I’ve never seen you so dressed up.”
Andi shrugged. “It’s a black-tie event. I could hardly show up in my overalls, could I?”
Hannah laughed. “No, but even on prom night you didn’t look this good. Even at my wedding, you didn’t look this good. Even—”
“I get it. I never looked this good. Thanks for reminding me that I look like a hobo most of the time.”
Hannah grabbed Andi’s hand and forced her to do a full twist for inspection. “Holy Moly! That dress fits you like a glove. And those heels are hot!” She leaned in close to Andi’s neck and sniffed. “Yum! You’re wearing your lily of the valley perfume, too. Very nice.”
Andi blushed. “Enough already. This is embarrassing.”
Her sister smoothed a hand over Andi’s long, loose hair. She usually wore it in a messy clip on top of her head. Tonight she had it down for a purpose. To seduce Sven Klaus into spilling his guts.
“Your hair looks like silk. Why do you always hide it in that dumb bun?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, darling sister. Let’s go. We don’t want to be late.” She paused and surveyed Hannah’s dress. “For the record, I think one of the De Luca sisters is sparkling tonight. And it’s not me. It’s you. I love that emerald dress. You look like a princess. I’m glad you’re finally escaping the apartment for a night. It will do you good to get out and socialize.”
Hannah looked down at her satin-tipped toes. “It’s hard. All the things I used to do, all the people we used to see… They were part of my life with David. Now that he’s gone, it hardly seems worth it.”
Andi slid an arm around Hannah’s waist and gave her a reassuring squeeze. “You deserve to have some fun. David wouldn’t want you to hole up in that house and never see the light of day.” She kissed her softly on the cheek. “Tonight we’ll have a great time, I promise. Champagne, dancing, hobnobbing with a bunch of spoiled rich folks…”
Hannah giggled. “I’m actually looking forward to this.” She glanced at their reflections in the mirror. “We both look like royalty this evening, don’t we? Not bad for thirty-something gals. Remember when we used to dream about becoming princesses? With castles and turrets and knights in shining armor?”
Andi tensed. “Yeah. I remember. Foolish fantasies for foolish little girls. Life didn’t turn out like a fairy tale, did it?”
Hannah cupped her sister’s cheek. “Try to table the cynicism for tonight, Andi. Just for one night. Let yourself get carried away by the champagne and the beautiful gowns and the sparkling lights.”
“I promise. I’ll be on my very best behavior, okay?”
Hannah narrowed her eyes. “You’re not planning on doing anything crazy with the Klaus family, are you? You gave up that big investigation, right?”
Andi didn’t even blink. “Yeah, that didn’t pan out. I thought maybe I was
onto something, but Klaus Enterprises seems to be a pretty upstanding organization.”
Hannah blew out a breath. “Thank goodness. You don’t want to cross the Klaus brothers. Gregor is a formidable presence in the finance industry. Their family is powerful, and I don’t think they would take too kindly to a tabloid reporter trying to dig up dirt—”
Andi interrupted her. “No worries. Tonight is just about two sisters out on the town, having fun.” She forced a smile.
Hannah glanced at the newspaper article framed in the hallway and pursed her lips. “I sure hope so.”
As her sister opened the door, Andi discreetly tapped the article for good luck. A blown-up edition of her most popular column, YETI WILL MAKE YOU DEADY! beamed down on her as they left the apartment. There was no such thing as Yeti. The photo was fake. The article was fake. And when you got right down to it, any journalistic integrity Andi may have possessed was most certainly fake. But she paid the rent, took care of her family, and she entertained folks. Extremely gullible folks.
That had to count for something. Right?
Sven Klaus trailed his fingers over the birch inlay on the stool. As silky smooth as a woman’s skin. He ran the sander over the surface one more time, until he was satisfied with the result. A complex design made with maple, birch, Western red cedar, and American black walnut twisted over the seat, around the legs, and down to the claw feet on the floor. All of the hard work and exhausting attention to detail had been worth it. His customers would be thrilled.
A long strand of hair hung in front of his face, and he pushed it over his shoulder. Then cringed. It probably hadn’t been such a hot idea to sneak into the woodworking studio while dressed in a tuxedo. Gregor was going to kill him. But Sven couldn’t help himself. Once he got immersed in a design project, he lost track of time, he lost track of other commitments, he blocked out noise and conversation and all diversions. The laid-back hippie toymaker—without a care in the world—was transformed into an intense, highly focused designer.
He was in the “zone,” as Gregor liked to call it.
Too bad he didn’t feel a fraction of this creative passion for the tried-and-true Klaus toys.
It had been a hell of long time since toy-making rocked his boat. He went through the motions, building the same items his family had crafted for generations. The toys were simple and they made kids happy. It was all good. But he craved the challenge of creating beautiful furniture—mixing form and function, pleasing aesthetics with practical application. Finally, with the help of financial genius Gregor, he was on the cusp of opening Klaus Studios in Manhattan. A showroom for his furniture design.
Just one problem.
Santa had no idea.
Sven had kept both his father and his other brothers in the dark about this new endeavor. He wasn’t sure how they would feel about him branching out of the family business to satisfy a personal need for creative freedom. Greg—who had been an astounding source of support, financial and otherwise—assured him that the whole family would rally for his cause. But Sven wasn’t so sure. Especially with his father.
Especially with the impending Überholen.
“Please tell me you’re not sanding in Armani.”
Sven’s head snapped up as Gregor approached his worktable.
“I’m not sanding in Armani?”
“Really? Then what’s this?” Greg dusted some wood dust off Sven’s shoulder.
“The latest fashion accessory?” Sven laughed at his brother’s irritated expression. As usual, Gregor was immaculate in his high-end tux, tailored shirt, and well-groomed goatee.
“For hipster lumberjacks, maybe.” Greg inspected the stool Sven was working on and whistled. “This looks incredible. What’s the inlay?”
Sven ran a chamois over the top. “Birch, from Vermont.”
“You’ve outdone yourself. Your furniture design is really impressive, Sven. Incredible attention to detail, a fresh look at classic shapes. Klaus Studios will be a huge success.”
Sven chuckled. “You just officially became the president of my fan club. You don’t mind having a hippie for a roommate while I get my business off the ground?”
Gregor brushed the dust from a bench and sat down. He’d been supremely understanding about turning the pantry in his luxury apartment into a temporary woodworking space for Sven.
“You don’t look much like a hippie anymore. Did you finally retire your tie-dyed shirts and Birkies?” He pressed his hands together in mock prayer and looked heavenward.
“I figured folks would be less inclined to dish out thousands of dollars for a piece of furniture if the designer looked like a Deadhead. If I’m running a business, I need to polish up my image.”
“Music to my ears.”
“And not reggae, I presume.”
The two brothers laughed.
“No,” Greg agreed, “definitely not reggae. Although I notice you still have the long hair and beard.”
Sven grinned. “I need to keep up the appearance of woodsy carpenter. Just updated my wardrobe to Carhartts and boots.”
“Fair enough,” Gregor said. “And is your intense, serious expression part of this image overhaul? I thought you were supposed to be the laid-back brother.”
Sven sighed. “Not exactly.”
“So what is it? The opening? Christmas orders? Dad?”
Sven groaned and sat down next to his brother. “All of it, I guess.”
Gregor shook his head. “I think you’re wrong about Dad. He’ll be proud of you. It’s not like you’re letting the Klaus Enterprise business slide. You’re still filling the toy orders.”
“I know. But my heart isn’t in it anymore. I’ve been bored with the toys for a while. I want to tackle that table made with reclaimed wood from the nineteenth century barn, and the rocking chair order made with burled walnut, and the—”
“A toymaker who doesn’t like toys? Are you kidding me? If it weren’t so tragic, the irony would be hilarious.” Greg shot his brother a pained look.
“Tell me about it. The only part of toy design I still enjoy is the custom orders. Like the multi-sensory project I’ve been working on. The rest of it—the standard Klaus favorites—are boring the hell out of me.” He cringed. “And with the Überholen coming up…”
“What about the Überholen? I thought we decided everyone would pitch in when Dad decides to retire.”
Sven barked out a laugh. “Come on, Greg. Someone still has to do the midnight run on December twenty-fourth. Someone has to be the face of Klaus Enterprises. And we’re a toy company. And I’m the toy-builder.”
“Damn. I didn’t realize you were so worried about Dad’s retirement. Is that why you’re not telling him and the rest of the family about your studio? You shouldn’t be shouldering all the responsibility for this. And I promise you, everyone will be understanding about your new business.”
“I don’t want to disappoint Mom or Dad.”
“Well, they’ll both be at the fundraiser. So you’d better put on your happy face and fake it. This is Wolf’s big event. And tonight is Nick and Lucy’s first public appearance since Noelle was born. They’re both nervous wrecks.”
Sven chuckled. “How’s the little honigbienchen doing? I heard she was finally sleeping through the night.”
“The honey bee looks adorable. The parents look like they’ve been through a war.” Gregor stroked his goatee. “I’m giving them a full fifteen minutes at the party before they freak out and leave.”
“Wolfgang will be happy to have the whole family together. Including the next generation.”
“This has been quite the year, hasn’t it?”
“You’re not kidding. Our family expanded exponentially.”
“Including a Bändiger elfin girl.”
“And a snowman. Don’t forget Mr. Frosty.”
The two brothers fist-bumped at that last comment. Oskar’s newest addition to the family was a magical snowman who lived on his porch and devoured root
beer-flavored popsicles.
Sven sighed. “All right. Let’s get this over with.” He glanced down at his tux. “All I want to do is change into my Carhartts and get to work. But I know tonight’s important. And I won’t mind having a few drinks. Not only am I juggling a new business, Christmas orders, and the impending wrath of Santa, I also had to shake off that tenacious reporter. I thought she would never leave me alone. Can you imagine how pissed Dad would be if a reporter exposed Klaus Enterprises’s secrets? I’m already worried about being in the shit-house when he finds out about the new studio. The last thing I need is a tabloid breaking the story of the century. Santa Is Alive And Well And Pumping Iron.”
“And Running Marathons.”
“And Curling With Elves In The North Pole.”
“Ugh. I don’t even want to imagine that scenario.” Sven rubbed his forehead as a tension headache began to pound.
Gregor laughed and clapped him on the back. “Don’t worry about her. There is no way for a Sudlander to find Glasdorf. She’ll be wasting her time if she pursues the story.”
Sven frowned. “I hope you’re right.”
So why couldn’t he shake the feeling he hadn’t seen the last of Andrea De Luca?
Sven had attended quite a few fundraising events sponsored by Klaus Enterprises, but this one was turning into a favorite. The vaulted ceilings of the New York Public Library, the gleaming marble, dark wood panels, and stunning murals were the perfect backdrop for this gala. His entire family had gathered to support Wolf.
Running Klaus Enterprises was a family affair. It took input and dedication from all the brothers (and elves) in Glasdorf to make sure that Christmas was a success each year. Nicholas Jr. and his wife, Lucy, operated Klaus Küche, the bakery responsible for decadent holiday treats. Gregor was the financial guru, protecting the assets of their huge business that provided plenty of cash for Wolfgang’s philanthropic projects. Oskar and his new wife, Kiana, managed the elves. It required patience, thoughtfulness, and sometimes copious amounts of eggnog (spiked). And of course Sven supervised the toyshop, where only the highest quality handcrafted wooden toys were produced. The best part of their family operation was spending time together. Luckily, he and his brothers genuinely enjoyed each other’s company. And did a pretty bang-up job on Christmas Eve, too.
