Christmas with Her Millionaire Boss

by Barbara Wallace

  She kissed Noelle’s forehead. “You are my family. Got that?”

  Noelle tried to keep her jaw from trembling as she nodded. What a fool she was. So busy being grateful for Belinda and Ned’s affections, she couldn’t see that when it came to Belinda, family wasn’t an either-or proposition. Her heart was large enough to accommodate everyone. Take Thanksgiving and the mishmash of characters who joined every year. Todd, Jake from the mail room, Nadifa from sales. None of them blood related and yet all of them embraced like they were.

  When she thought about it, Belinda had pulled Noelle into that welcoming web the day Kevin brought her home. She didn’t inherit a family because she dated Kevin; dating Kevin was an added bonus. Chances are she would have been enfolded into the Thanksgiving Day group regardless. After all, the only qualification was being alone at the holidays.

  “Your family was—is—the greatest gift I could ever ask for,” she told Belinda. “Being a Fryberg was a dream come true. It was all I ever wanted.”

  By now Belinda’s eyes were shining too. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re my dream come true too. Don’t get me wrong, I loved Kevin, but I always wanted a daughter to keep the family traditions alive.”

  Offering a smile, the older woman bent down and kissed Noelle on the forehead. “I never imagined I’d end up with a daughter who’s more Fryberg than anyone with actual Fryberg blood.”

  They both laughed. “Does that mean I can still have Grandma Fryberg’s recipe book?” Noelle asked, wiping her eyes.

  “Absolutely. I’ll even laminate the pages so you can pass the book along to your daughter.

  “And you will have a daughter. Or daughter-in-law,” Belinda added. Her smile faded and once again, her expression grew serious. “There’s a whole world out there beyond this store and our family name. I fully expect you to build a happy life beyond Fryberg’s. You deserve one.”

  “But I wouldn’t have a life without Fryberg’s,” Noelle replied. Breaking out of her mother-in-law’s grasp, she reached for the box of tissues on her desk. Her eyes and nose were runny with tears. “I can’t imagine anything else.”

  “Really? Then why are you crying over James Hammond?”

  All right, maybe Noelle could imagine a little more. The other night, in James’s arms, she’d imagined all types of future. “Doesn’t matter whether I’m crying over him or not,” she said, blowing her nose. “He and I are finished.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “Man said so himself.”

  Forget it, Noelle. I already have.

  She blew her nose. “You should have heard his voice, Belinda.” Remembering sent a chill down her spine. “I called him to discuss his email, and I might as well have been talking to a stranger.”

  A feeling of hopelessness washed over her. “I thought... That is, the whole reason I freaked out was because I thought we had some kind of special connection. Now I wonder if maybe I wasn’t simply confusing good sex with affection and blew the weekend out of proportion.”

  Thankfully, Belinda chose to let the good sex comment slide. Hearing her thoughts out loud, however, made Noelle even more certain she was right, and had let the romanticism of Saturday night get the best of her. “Other than being angry with the way I took off, I wonder if James has even given me a second thought.”

  “I’m sure he has. He didn’t strike me as someone who took...those kinds of encounters...lightly.”

  “Me either,” Noelle replied. “He certainly sounded businesslike enough today though. Talking about the company’s new direction and all.”

  “New direction?”

  “Uh-huh. Based on the points in his email, I’d say he’s back to focusing on streamlining and internet sales.” She could see it now. Today Fryer. Tomorrow the Christmas Castle.

  “Hmm.”

  Noelle frowned. “What?”

  “I’m not sure,” Belinda replied. “Did you see today’s business headlines?”

  “No.”

  “I think you should. There’s something very interesting in it.” Her mother-in-law retrieved the newspaper she’d dropped on the desk during their talk. It was folded in thirds, to highlight the headline on the weekly marketing column. Noelle’s heart sank as she read.

  Hammond’s to Discontinue Iconic Window Displays.

  The article below quoted James as saying he wanted to take the chain in a “new direction” and build a store for the next generation.

  “‘It’s time Hammond’s let go of the past,’” she read. “‘We can’t bring the past back, no matter how badly we may want to.’” It was a harsh-sounding quote, one she imagined marketing hadn’t wanted to use.

  “When I read the article this morning, something didn’t hit me as right. Still doesn’t, although I can’t put my finger on what.”

  Noelle stared at the headline.

  All week she’d been downplaying Saturday night to ease the giant ache in her chest, but her efforts hadn’t worked. There were too many reminders in the Christmas music and lights. She wanted the holiday to go away so she could breathe again. She who held Christmas in her heart fifty-two weeks a year.

  But ending the window displays? They represented the one decent family memory he had. It was why he kept them going year after year, regardless of the cost. Because there was a part of him, the ghost of that little boy, that wanted to believe family meant something. That he meant something to his family. Before his mother’s midnight departure convinced him otherwise.

  No. Noelle’s heart seized. Dropping the newspaper, she stumbled toward a chair. The room had become a tunnel, a narrow dark tube with black all around.

  “Are you all right?” she heard Belinda ask from far away. “Is something wrong? What is it?”

  No. Yes. Everything. The answers flew through her head as her realization became clear.

  She’d disappeared in the middle of the night without a word just like his mother. He’d spent the day revealing himself, at her urging, and she’d let her cowardice trample that vulnerability. In doing so, she solidified all of James’s fears.

  That was why he was closing the window displays. Not because he wanted to take the chain in a new direction—though he would and do so brilliantly—but because that little boy no longer believed in his own memory. James had retreated, quit, waved the white flag in defeat.

  He had given up hope, and it was her fault.

  It wasn’t right. Someone needed to tell him he had too much sweetness and light inside him to hide behind profits and modern retail. Someone had to show him he was special.

  Lovable.

  Not someone. Her. Noelle needed to fix the horrible wrong she had done to him. And not by text or by phone either. In person.

  “I need to go to Boston,” she told Belinda. “As soon as possible.”

  She may have thrown away her chance to be with him, but Noelle would be damned if she cost him Christmas.

  * * *

  “Why are you still wearing your coat?” Jackson asked, as he slipped into his seat. As usual, he was dressed impeccably in a suit from his London tailor.

  “I’m cold,” James replied. “This table picks up a draft from the front door.”

  He and his father were meeting for a business lunch in the bistro across from Hammond’s. Outside, Copley Square bustled with Christmas shoppers, many of who stopped to watch the Hammond’s displays. In fact, there was a crowd of preschoolers clumped in front of them that very moment, watching the elves make mischief in Santa’s kitchen. Why they were standing out in such blasted cold was beyond him. A shiver passed through him, and he looked away.

  “If you’re uncomfortable, we can move,” Jackson said.

  “That won’t be necessary. I’ll warm up soon enough.” He hoped. He’d been chilled to the bone for days. At home, he’d cranked both
his gas fireplace and the thermostat, and slept with an extra comforter. It was going to be a long winter, at this rate.

  Maybe if he found someone to warm him up? He dismissed the idea as quickly as it appeared. Female company didn’t appeal to him right now.

  Meanwhile, for some reason, his father refused to let the subject drop. After the waiter took their orders, he laid his napkin on his lap and leaned forward. “Are you sure it’s temperature related and not something to do with the ‘issue’ you had in Fryberg?”

  “I’m sure.” Other than a minor case of temporary insanity, his “issue” had been side-effect-free. “A cup of hot coffee and I’ll be fine.”

  Jackson stared at him for a beat or two. “If you say so,” he said finally, before reaching for his water glass. “I saw the article in the Business Journal today about the window displays. I have to say I didn’t think you would ever agree to eliminate them.”

  “What can I say? Even I couldn’t ignore the numbers.”

  “I’m glad you finally came around. Although it would have been nice if you’d alerted me to your decision. I realize you handle these kinds of day-to-day operations, but...”

  “You were in Copenhagen,” James interrupted. “And I wanted to make the announcement early enough to take advantage of the entire Christmas season. I didn’t mean to blindside you.”

  “Surprise is a better word.”

  James returned his father’s flat smile and sipped his coffee. “Marketing tells me we’re getting quite a bit of local press attention from the announcement. This could turn into a public relations bonus for us.”

  “That reminds me,” Jackson said, “you need to talk to whoever wrote the press release. They should have drafted a less caustic quote.”

  James had written the quote himself. Molly, their communications assistant, had clearly wanted something else, but she hadn’t argued.

  Noelle would have. He suppressed a shiver. “Actually, I thought the quote went straight to the point.”

  “‘We can’t bring the past back, no matter how badly we may want to’?” Jackson quoted. “I would have preferred something a little less cynical.”

  “Why? It’s true, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, but we’re not in the business of selling truth, James—we sell toys.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve no intention of letting sales slide.” Amazing how unaffected he was about the whole thing. Not too long ago, he would have argued the window displays brought in customers. But when he’d visited the store on Sunday afternoon and saw this year’s intricate displays, he’d suddenly thought, Why bother? All that money spent and what did it matter?

  “The rest of the chain does quite well without window displays,” James said, reaching for his coffee again. “Boston will too. A month from now, people won’t remember what the display looked like.”

  “I could have told you that,” Jackson replied.

  The waiter arrived with their food. While he waited for the man to serve his soup, James let his eyes travel back to the crowd across the street. The preschoolers had been joined by several mothers with strollers. For a moment, he thought he saw a red-and-white knit hat mixed in the crowd and his pulse stuttered. His eyes were playing tricks on him. He hadn’t thought about Noelle since he left New York—prolonged thought anyway—and he wasn’t about to start.

  Although yesterday’s phone call nearly killed him. When the receptionist said her name, a tearing sensation had gripped his chest. The first intense feeling he’d had in days, it nearly knocked him to his knees. Then there was the way she’d lowered her voice to apologize. It took all his reserves, but thankfully he kept himself from breaking and asking why she left. No need to hear her excuse. He already knew.

  The sound of his father clearing his throat drew back his attention.

  “Are you certain you feel all right?” Jackson asked. “Perhaps you should see a specialist.”

  “I’m fine,” he insisted.

  “You say you’re all right, but you’re clearly not acting like yourself. You’re difficult to reach. You’re making sudden changes in company policy.”

  James let out a long sigh. “So this is about my not discussing the announcement with you beforehand.” He knew this sudden interest in his health had to mean something.

  “This has nothing to do with the announcement,” Jackson said, killing that theory immediately. “I’m simply concerned about you.”

  “Why? You’ve never been before.” The words came flying out before James realized what he was saying. They landed between them, causing his father to sit back, his features frozen in shock.

  “You don’t think I care?” Jackson said. He actually sounded stung.

  What did he do now?

  Aww, heck. Might as well put this bit of the past to rest too. “I’m not making an accusation,” James said, holding up a hand. “I understand that you were stuck with me when Mom left and that put you in an awkward position.”

  His father stared at him. A long look similar to the ones he’d given James as a teenager. And like then, James had to fight the urge to tug at his collar.

  Finally, Jackson put down his fork. “Are you suggesting that I was unhappy when your mother left you behind?”

  Wasn’t he? “I remember the look on your face when I came downstairs that morning and you definitely weren’t expecting to see me. If anything,” he added, looking down at his chowder, “you looked disappointed.”

  “That’s because I was,” Jackson replied. “For you.” He let out a sigh. “Your mother was a very unpredictable woman. Doing one thing one day, and something else the next. She insisted that I encouraged your analytical side to spite her, and that I didn’t understand what it took to raise a child. I had no idea she’d left you behind until you came downstairs that morning.

  “She was right,” he said, smoothing a wrinkle from the tablecloth. “I was completely unprepared.”

  Silence filled the table while his father paused to sip his water and James struggled for what to say next. It was true; his mother had been high-strung. Hence the flying crystal. He remembered preferring the quiet of his father’s study to being around her whirling dervish personality.

  “I’m not...” Jackson took another drink. “I’m not a naturally affectionate person. Your mother complained all the time that I was too detached. Too stiff. It’s how I am. Looking back, I can see how an impressionable teenager might misconstrue my behavior.

  “I can assure you, though,” he added, “that at no time did I ever consider myself ‘stuck’ with you.”

  Slowly stirring his soup, James digested his father’s confession. So he had been wanted after all. As far as family reconciliations went, the moment wouldn’t win any prizes, but he got a tightness in his chest nonetheless. “Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate you telling me.”

  For the first time in James’s life, Jackson Hammond looked bashful. “You’re welcome. Son.”

  By unspoken agreement, they spent the rest of the luncheon discussing business, a far more comfortable subject. When they were finished, Jackson suggested they meet for lunch again the next week. “Or you could come by for dinner,” he offered.

  “Sure,” James replied. If his father could try, then so could he. “Dinner would be great.”

  Jackson responded with the most awkward shoulder pat in history. Still it was a start.

  * * *

  Not that he would ever say so, but his father had terrible timing. Short as it was, their heart-to-heart killed the numbness he’d so carefully cultivated when Noelle left. Granted, he’d been cold, but with one or two exceptions, he’d been able to function without thinking about what a fool he’d been.

  But then, Jackson decided to pat his shoulder, and the first thought that popped into his head was Noelle was right. Suddenly, the enti
re weekend was replaying in his head.

  Telling his father he had an errand, James hung back on the sidewalk as Jackson entered the building. He needed to clear his head of the frustration his father’s apology had unleashed. It felt like a giant fist shoving upward in his chest. If he didn’t push it back down, he was liable to scream out loud.

  Why was he letting one tiny woman get to him so badly?

  Dammit! He’d had one-night stands before. Some of them even told him to go to hell after they discovered they were nothing more than one-night stands. None of those experiences had ever turned into an existential crisis. His weekend with Noelle shouldn’t have either, late-night escape or otherwise. Yet here he was, making long overdue peace with his father and wishing it was Noelle reaching out to him instead.

  He never should have let her past his defenses. From the start, he knew nothing real could happen between them. Relationships didn’t happen on his end of the bell curve. But then she’d hugged him, shifting around his insides and allowing things like hope and longing to rise to the surface. She’d made him believe their night together went deeper than sex. He hadn’t just taken her in his arms; he’d shared his soul with her. Every touch, every kiss was his way of expressing the feelings she unlocked in him. Fool that he was, he’d actually started believing in Hammond’s marketing pitch.

  And now, thanks to his father’s apology, those feelings threatened to return, this time to mock him. He didn’t want to feel. He didn’t want to hope anymore.

  From here on in, it was about business. Profit and efficiency.

  “Ooh, look, Andre! There’s a monkey swinging in the lights. Do you see him?”

  Lost in his thoughts, James didn’t realize he’d joined the crowd in front of the window displays. Next to him, a young mother in a leather jacket stood holding a toddler. She had a second baby, bundled in pink bunting in a stroller beside her.