Tidings of Love

by Alicia Hunter Pace

  Sadly, those pathetic examples of Christmas cheer she’d just vented about to Sarah were only the tip of the iceberg. She hadn’t even mentioned the shoplifters and credit-card scammers or the people who deliberately damaged merchandise to try and get a discount. Sure, they were around the rest of the year, but the holidays brought more of them out of the woodwork.

  Hannah had tried to tell herself that, as manager, she only had to deal with the customers who were difficult, and didn’t see the nice people who were there every day. Tried to believe that not everyone was a PITA. But the closer it got to Christmas, the more difficult it was to believe when all she ever saw was a long line of belligerent people like the teacup poodle woman. And all her staff gossiped about were people like the man who’d involved her store in his cheating ways.

  If this was what the holiday spirit was about, she wanted none of it.

  Which was sad because when she was younger, she’d loved Christmas—the food, the presents, the anticipation, the lights. She especially loved the lights. She’d grown up on Peacock Lane, a four-block-long street in southeast Portland known for its Christmas-light displays. Every house on the lane was a glowing celebration of the season. Trees, bushes, rooflines, doors—everything that could support lights was draped in them. When it was lit up for its annual celebration of the season, the street was visible from the international space station, her father used to tell her. She believed him until she was a lot older than she liked to admit.

  Hannah couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment her enjoyment of the season had begun to wane. It could have been the year her family’s beautiful light display, along with several others on the street, was damaged by vandals, leaving her wondering why anyone would attack something her family and their neighbors did as a holiday present for strangers.

  Maybe it was when one too many customers treated her badly on the sales floor, stressed out by the season, and disappointed not to find what they were looking for.

  Or perhaps it was because her first serious relationship had fallen apart just in time for the holidays. When she was twenty-six and had been promoted to buyer, she’d gotten involved with the manager of a sister store in a large regional mall outside Portland. He was a bit older than she was and had surprised her with his interest. After only a few months, she had hopes that the relationship would turn into something serious in the New Year.

  Then she discovered: (1) The man she thought was the love of her life had backstabbed her, blaming her selection of stock for his failure to reach his sales goals; (2) she was just the latest in a long line of buyers he’d romanced to get what he wanted for his store; and (3) he never, ever, kept a relationship going over the holidays, so he could be free to roam various boozy Christmas parties and take advantage of the ubiquitous mistletoe. He became, to her and to her friends, like Voldemort, he-whose-name-was-forbidden-to-be-spoken. She had vowed never again to get involved with a coworker. Running into the dipshit every few weeks had made recovering from the relationship difficult. It was only after he moved out of state that she could breathe easier during company-wide events.

  Whatever the reason—a relationship gone bad, the dissatisfied customers, the ruined Christmas display—by the time she was promoted to store manager, she was fed up with Christmas, and not about to have her opinion challenged by anyone.

  Between sips of wine, Hannah continued to vent to her housemate. “In addition to dealing with teacup poodles and philandering husbands, I got two new assignments today. Angie’s pregnancy isn’t going well, and she’ll have to go on medical leave for the next few months until the baby arrives. So, on top of worrying about her and not having any luck filling the two weekend staff slots we have, now I have to organize the Christmas party Angie always worked on, too.”

  She sighed. “And Mr. Austin has decided to involve the entire chain in a huge Christmas deal for some charity. He’s called a staff meeting for tomorrow before the store opens and I’ll find out then what our store will be responsible for.”

  “Sorry to hear about Angie. I hope it works out okay. But I’m sure you can handle the extra work.” Sarah raised her wineglass, but before she took another sip said, “You know, you could always convert. Being Jewish this time of year is kinda fun. I get to enjoy all the lights and songs without worrying about anything except eating too many latkes and gaining a couple pounds.”

  “What are you talking about? You have to buy presents for eight nights of celebrating.”

  “That’s only if you have kids. The adults just have eight nights of good food and candle lighting. At least in my family that’s how we do it.”

  Hannah cocked her head, a small smile appearing for the first time since she’d come home from work. “It has its appeal, believe me. Although changing religions wouldn’t get me out from under the responsibility of planning the store’s Christmas party. And it wouldn’t make the crabby customers go away.” She finished her glass of wine. “But thanks for listening. I feel better. Let me help you get dinner on the table.”

  “Nope. My night to cook and serve. Yours to clean up. Pour us each another glass of wine while I dish up. I made your favorite lasagna.”

  “The longer I live with you, the more I wonder why I’d ever want to consider marrying some guy who can’t cook, doesn’t pick up after himself, and never learned to do the laundry.”

  Sarah looked back over her shoulder with a smirk on her face. “You have to admit there are some services I don’t provide that make up for the rest.” She ducked when Hannah threw a pillow at her.

  “I’m willing to settle for cooking these days. It’s been so long since I’ve enjoyed any of the kind of ‘services’ you’re talking about I’ve forgotten why I enjoyed them in the first place.”

  “Ask Santa. I hear he delivers for good girls. Although maybe that’s just a rumor to make little Jewish girls jealous.” Sarah was yelling from the kitchen by this time, well out of range of Hannah’s pillow-throwing skills.

  “Right. Santa bringing me a hot guy. With my luck I’d end up with one of his elves. Or a reindeer.”

  • • •

  David Shay loved everything about the holiday season—the candles, the music, the decorations, even the crowds out on the rainy streets of Portland. He loved that he got to celebrate two winter holidays—he was Jewish and his family made a big deal out of Hanukkah. But his non-Jewish grandmother always made sure he enjoyed the Christmas season, too.

  When he was a kid and people asked him what he wanted from Santa, David always said he was Jewish and Santa didn’t come to his house. But before anyone could be embarrassed or feel sorry for him, he added, “Santa leaves my presents at Gramma’s house,” as if every Jewish kid had a non-Jewish relative who provided a place for Santa to leave his largesse.

  As the head of the largest children’s nonprofit program in Portland, David was happy to share his love for the season with the kids in the program. Usually it was a struggle to raise enough money so every one of the kids they served got something they needed, something they wanted, and something to read—the gift-giving mantra his grandmother had instilled in him. But not this year. The biggest independent bookstore in the city was donating books, and Simon Austin, owner of the only remaining locally owned retail operation, was underwriting the rest of the program.

  Austin had promised David he and the employees of his eight women’s stores would take care of the other two categories. Austin himself would make up the difference between what his employees collected and donated and what the program needed. In addition, there would be a generous cash donation by year’s end to put the program’s building campaign over the top. And Austin had volunteered to sponsor a holiday party for the program, at his expense and organized by the staff of his flagship store.

  Simon Austin had visited the offices of SafePlace For Children and Parents the previous summer as part of a City Club of Portland committee studying the needs of children and young families in the city. David and Austin had hit it of
f immediately, and Austin’s interest in David’s program—which provided a range of services, from day care and medical help for low-income families to counseling and shelter for abused women and children—only grew with his work on the committee.

  Thanks to Austin’s interest, it was going to be a great holiday for SafePlace. That meant it would be a great holiday for David, who cared deeply about the program. Not just because it was his job to care, but also because the clients mattered to him. He poured his heart and soul into his work every day. Apparently that passion had convinced Simon Austin to care about SafePlace, too.

  With two social workers as parents, it was unsurprising that David had ended up running a social services program. Growing up, he’d resisted the idea for a while—he couldn’t see himself as an academic like his mother or a therapist like his father. But then he discovered an interest in nonprofit management. A degree in the subject and an internship with a program for victims of domestic abuse led him to SafePlace. After taking his first job there, he knew what he was meant to do with his life.

  And now he was about to end a year of exciting growth and new opportunities with a bang. There would not only be enough money to make sure no kid was forgotten, but also a contribution for the building expansion, and a party to look forward to. What more could a guy want?

  Well, maybe someone to share the season with. But even if David’s grandmother hadn’t been gone for the better part of a decade, he was pretty sure not even she could make that happen.

  Chapter 2

  “What do you mean, that’s not enough food for two hundred people? I only have fifty employees. Even if everyone shows up and brings a date, that’s still only one hundred people, max. Where did the other hundred come from?” Hannah was trying to get a few of the party details ironed out before she dug into the spreadsheets for the monthly report she was trying to get off her desk by day’s end.

  “And why are you worried about food for kids? You must have misunderstood. This is a party for adults. We don’t include—”

  “Look, I don’t know what you think I was hired to do, but Angie said I needed to prepare menus for her to look at for a party of two hundred, maybe two hundred fifty people,” the man at the other end of the phone call said. “And she was very clear about the need to make sure the food was kid-friendly. Not to mention allergy-free, healthful, and with a few gluten-free platters. Are you saying there’s been some change in the plans?”

  Hannah was too stunned to respond.

  “Hey, are you still with me?” the man asked.

  She shook herself out of her silence and said, “Yeah, I’m still here. I guess I need to talk to corporate and get this straightened out. I’ll get back to you as soon as I do.”

  Without waiting for a response, she hung up the phone and yelled, “Mandy, what the hell is going on here?”

  Mandy Miller, her administrative assistant, stuck her head around the edge of the doorframe. “You bellowed, my liege?”

  “I just talked to the caterer Angie’s been working with, and the guy said we were arranging a party for two hundred people. What’s he talking about?”

  “Didn’t Angie tell you about the event before she left?”

  “What Angie told me, between violent retching and running for the ladies’ room, was I should contact Ted Reese, who turns out to be a caterer, to get the details. When I called Mr. Reese, he told me we were doing some event for two hundred or more people, including a bunch of kids.” She ran her fingers through her hair hard, pulling out a few strands in frustration. “I repeat, what is he talking about?”

  “Well, you’ll hear the details at the meeting in an hour, but Mr. Austin has adopted a local nonprofit agency for kids as the company’s Christmas charity.”

  “We always adopt a nonprofit at Christmas. What does that have to do with the company party?”

  “I don’t know that we’re having the usual company Christmas party. After Mr. Austin talked to Angie a while back, she started working on a party for the charity. That’s what the caterer was probably talking about. I assumed she told you. Guess you need to talk to him.” Mandy looked at the clock on Hannah’s desk. “Which you can do in about five minutes because he’ll be here to check in with you before the meeting.”

  “And when did that little change of plans happen?”

  “While you were on the phone. Check your email and text messages.”

  Hannah clicked on the icon on her computer and saw the message she’d ignored when she was talking to the caterer. “Crap. Just what I didn’t need this morning.”

  “I hope you don’t mean me,” an older male voice said. A white-haired man in a dark business suit was standing in the door of her office.

  Hannah stood so quickly she almost lost her balance. “Mr. Austin. No, of course I didn’t mean you. I was just—” She couldn’t come up with anything to finish the sentence, so she let it drift off. Gesturing to a chair, she said, “Please, come in. Have a seat.”

  When he moved to take it, she saw her boss wasn’t alone. A younger man followed him into the office—a younger, quite deliciously good-looking man. He was a good four or five inches taller than Hannah’s five foot five, with shoulders Michael Phelps would envy, big blue eyes, a scrumptious scruff of beard, and a mouth that looked like it was made to be kissed.

  Which was so not what she should be thinking about. If he was there with Mr. Austin, he was work-related and off-limits. An image of the dipshit from her past flashed through her mind, and she squared her shoulders, hoping to project nothing but professional interest.

  Her boss waved in the man’s general direction. “Hannah, this is David Shay. He’s the director of a very special program we’ll be helping out this Christmas season.”

  The man—David, that is, he of the great body and slightly shaggy brown hair that curled around his ears and neck so adorably—joined Austin on the opposite side of Hannah’s desk as the introduction continued. “David, this is Hannah Jenkins. She’s the manager of this store and one of the best in my whole chain. She’s on top of everything that goes on here, and probably everyplace else in the free world. I live in fear she’ll decide one of these days she wants my job. She’s taken over every position she’s set her mind to in the decade or so she’s been with us.”

  Hannah took the hand David Shay extended to her and used the introduction as an opportunity to look him over more intensely. The body she had already noticed filled a pair of jeans about as well as any man she’d ever seen. With them he wore a white shirt, a gold sweater, and a tan jacket. In spite of wearing no tie and what looked like hiking boots, somehow he made it all look very businesslike, even when compared to Simon Austin’s bespoke tailored suit and expensive-looking tie.

  “Hi, nice to meet you,” David said, a smile making his already attractive face positively irresistible. His hand was warm and solid, and he held onto her just a fraction of a minute longer than necessary.

  Hannah didn’t say anything for a heartbeat or three, maybe four. “Um, yeah, nice to meet you,” she finally got out. She had to get herself under control. Maybe if she moved away from him. She started for her small conference table to bring another chair over for him, but he seemed to read her mind and got there first.

  “Is it okay if I bring this over?” he asked.

  “Absolutely. Make yourself comfortable.” Well, that didn’t work. Coffee. Maybe coffee would help. She picked up the phone to summon her assistant, but she, too, seemed to be a mind reader and appeared in the doorway.

  “Can I get anyone coffee? A soft drink? Sparkling water? I have your favorite, San Pellegrino, Mr. Austin,” Mandy said.

  “Of course you do. Hannah always makes sure you do,” Austin said. “See what I mean, David? She has it all covered, down to the last detail.”

  David looked quite seriously at Hannah before saying, “I can believe just from looking at her that she’s good at whatever she does—in the office or outside it.”

  • • •<
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  David Shay was not inexperienced with beautiful women, in either business or social relationships. Usually he noted how attractive the woman looked and moved on. But Hannah Jenkins had stunned him into blurting out what was probably an inappropriate comment about the employee of the man he wanted to keep on his good side.

  He hoped Mr. Austin hadn’t noticed, although he wouldn’t have minded if Hannah had. The way she’d looked him up and down when they shook hands had surprised him. She liked what she saw when she looked at him—that was obvious. Not that he objected. He was quite happy she might be interested.

  Because he was certainly interested. The woman was seriously hot. She wasn’t like the usual tall, willowy blondes he had been going out with since college. In fact, she wasn’t tall at all—maybe five foot four—but she carried herself with a commanding presence that added at least a couple of inches to her actual height. Her not-blonde hair, pushed back from her face and tucked behind her ears, was some sort of reddish-brown color that looked like it might glow in the sunlight. As she turned her head, the silky mass of curly hair shifted across her shoulder. A few strands escaped confinement. He fought the urge to rub them between his fingers and inhale her clean, vanilla scent.

  Green eyes that looked intelligent, a body that looked killer, even in the very serious black suit she wore with a white shirt, and the endorsement of the smartest businessman David had ever met presented a picture of a woman who intrigued him and who he’d like to know better. Much, much better.

  And with that handshake they’d shared, he was sure she felt the connection he did. He’d expected to see sparks emanate from their hands when they touched, and was almost disappointed when it hadn’t happened.

  “I brought David in to meet you today, Hannah, because I expect you’ll be seeing a lot of him around here over the next few weeks. His program, SafePlace for Children and Parents, is this year’s charity for the company. There’ll be the usual gifts and donations, but this year, I’ve decided to make a change in the Christmas party we always have. Attendance has been falling off at our annual Christmas Eve staff get-together. On top of that, a number of people have said it would be nice to see where their donations went. So this year, we’ll be delivering the gifts to David’s kids in person at a party we’ll be hosting at his facility. Angie’s already started on it.” He turned to David. “Angie Colleto is the assistant manager here, David.” He smiled at Hannah. “I hope you don’t mind I went over your head and talked to her about it last month.”