“I know, honey.” Kristin hugged Mindy with one arm and patted her on the head while she juggled the mug of hot chocolate in her other hand. “It seems like it’s been snowing for months and months, doesn’t it? But it’s only January.”
“The new year,” Mindy said. She pushed away from Kristin and faced him. Her eyes were spaced far apart, and she had a distinctive look to her features.
Ah. He understood. She was...what did they call it? Special Needs.
“Hello,” Mindy said to him.
“Er...hello.” He crossed his arms and nodded curtly. No hugs for him today, please, he thought.
“This is George,” Kristin said to Mindy. “He’s visiting us for the day.”
Inside, Malcolm cringed. He did not want to bond with anyone here, did not want to risk getting to know them or, God forbid, liking them.
“What did you do for New Year’s Eve?” Mindy asked him.
“Er...” He gazed to Kristin for help. She smiled and shook her head as if to say, “You’re on your own.”
Involuntarily, he swallowed.
“What did you do for New Year’s Eve?” Mindy asked him again, louder this time.
He risked glancing at Kristin. She was watching him as if his response was of utmost importance.
“I...er...went home.”
“Where is that?” Mindy demanded.
He felt a muscle in his jaw tick. He looked to Kristin, but she didn’t say a word.
“I saw my family,” he said quietly. And it killed him to think of it. His life was so out of sync with theirs. He’d stayed two weeks, for Christmas and for Hogmanay—what the Scots called New Year’s Eve—but then after the “first-footing” tradition, he’d been right back on the road again.
He really was getting tired of the road.
“Who is in your family?” Mindy asked him.
“Come,” Kristin interrupted, taking pity on him at last. “We need to get back to the packing room. How are Jeff and Arlene doing?”
“Good.” Mindy stopped to take a drink of her hot chocolate. She downed half the mug in one long gulp, before Kristin gently took it from her.
“Let me carry that for you, Mindy,” Kristin said. Mindy allowed Kristin to put her arm around her and lead her down the hallway.
And just like that, his interrogation was forgotten.
He paused, catching his breath. Even though it was cool enough to nearly see his breath in the below-room-temperature factory, he was sweating beneath his shirt. A cold perspiration, running in a thin trickle from his armpit down along his bare skin. He was in hell. Women and special needs workers. What was he doing?
Kristin poked her head around the corner. “Are you coming, George?”
It was like a dagger to his core. “I... Yes.” But he gripped his notebook and made sure he had his phone in his pocket; he’d need the camera app to take photos of the factory floor.
He followed Kristin and Mindy. Slowly, he was turning himself numb inside again. Not fighting anymore. He would go with the flow, whatever the day brought. Let Kristin show him the way, but at the same time, stay safely wary.
But it turned out he didn’t need to be; nobody challenged him. Kristin introduced him to Jeff and Arlene. Jeff was mellow and quiet. He had a thick white beard, wire-rimmed glasses and a habit of saying very little. Arlene was around the same age, but warm and nurturing. She babbled on about a trip to “the British Isles” she was planning to take, and it was only by the grace of God that Kristin didn’t raise a brow at him or otherwise give him away as a possible inhabitant of the Commonwealth.
She was a blessing to him. And, as she’d promised, Kristin led him on a tour of the plant. It was a light, airy space with high ceilings and tall windows that overlooked a back parking lot and a pine forest that was picturesque—pure New England.
Malcolm knew the region well; he’d spent his childhood and teen years in two New Hampshire boarding schools, and then, his undergraduate terms in a college not too far from the location of this plant.
The snow falling on the pine trees outside made him feel sad. It was so quiet and peaceful. He and Kristin were the only two people on the factory floor, with all the empty, ghostlike machines. She led him from station to station, his footsteps echoing against the ancient wooden boards, warped and uneven with age. The space was small and cramped with devices—mixers, conveyor belts, bottlers and a label maker that Kristin said was broken, hence, the applying of labels by hand today. But no matter...all the other machines were dormant, too. On a Saturday.
Incredibly wasteful. His head had been buried in the levels of financials for this small, privately held company for weeks, and it was apparent to him that the business was mismanaged.
Malcolm took photos with his camera phone. He listened while Kristin explained each part of the production process, and how the layout was configured depending on the product to be manufactured that day.
“I thought you worked with the computer system,” he remarked to her.
“I do. But I also schedule the machines. That’s the benefit of a small company—I get to do lots of things.” She smiled. “I like variety, so it’s perfect for me. I don’t think any other company would fit my personality. It’s why I won’t ever leave here.”
He kept his careful poker face and just felt sadder. It was not good that he was getting to know his hostess. Not wise at all to let himself sympathize with these people at Aura. It was his job to stay emotionally aloof and separate from the actions he was required to take. He needed to remain neutral and businesslike. It was safer for everyone that way.
He went back to the computer in her office and studied the range of reports to choose from.
“George?” Mindy asked from the doorway.
It took Malcolm a moment to realize that Mindy was referring to him. Damn it. “Yes, Mindy?”
“Kristin says to ask you what you want for lunch. She’s going to call in a sandwich order, and I get to pick it up by myself.” Her chest expanded with pride.
Do not get too close to these people. “No, thank you,” he said. “I’ll take care of my own lunch.”
“But, aren’t you hungry?” Mindy demanded. “I’m always hungry.”
His stomach was growling. He was thirsty, too, but for something cold. Andrew had shown him a Coke machine in the break room earlier, but Malcolm hadn’t brought any pocket change with him. He was still hoping Andrew would call him, even though Malcolm knew it was highly unlikely—less than a one percent chance, he figured.
“I’ll, er, walk someplace close by for lunch,” Malcolm said to the girl. A lie, because he didn’t have a wallet or credit cards, and his smallest bill was a hundred. He doubted a small-town diner would risk cashing it.
“I’m walking today,” Mindy said. “To Cookie’s Place. Kristin said I’m in charge.” She scrunched her face at him, showing him that she was peeved. It occurred to him that maybe he was taking her job away from her.
“Ah...is there a bigger place nearby? A chain restaurant?” Maybe he could call his driver to phone in an order with a credit card. “How about a pizza place I can walk to?” Vermont didn’t have fried pizza like in Scotland, but he would make do.
Mindy frowned harder. “If you are walking, there’s only Cookie’s Place.”
Of course. It was a small town. And it had been a crucial, logistical mistake not to have access to a car. His fault, because how could the fictional “George Smith” rent a car without a driver’s license?
Sighing wearily, he gave in. “Please order me whatever sandwich Kristin is ordering. And, er—” man, this was painful “—please ask her if I can pay her back later, once I have change. Okay?”
He would have to send an envelope with cash later, which gave him more logistical problems. The compounding of his torment to
day did not end....
“Kristin is paying for our lunches out of petty cash,” Mindy informed him.
Well. That solved everything. “Fine. You win.”
When the food came, he was grateful for it. Thick slices of deli turkey piled high on homemade white bread, also sliced thick, with crisp lettuce and Swiss cheese and a spread of fresh cranberry sauce as the main condiment. Absolutely delicious. He tried not to eat like a hungry wolf. They were all together sitting at a table by the big front windows, chewing happily, saying little. Malcolm downed his bottle of cool spring water, contented, no longer so dehydrated.
The snow outside was coming down in a thick blanket. At home, in Scotland, the roads would be at a standstill, he thought with amusement. When he’d been in Edinburgh over Hogmanay, the city had received just a few inches of snow, and the city government had literally called in the British Army to clear the streets. Scotland didn’t have snow-clearing equipment like Vermont did. People just didn’t drive in snow the way they did here.
But Malcolm was a great driver in snow. He’d had many years of long New England practice.
Then he realized that, without knowing it, Mindy had put a bug in his ear with all her questions. He suddenly felt homesick for his country. He unscrewed the cap on the bottle of Coke that Kristin had also ordered for him. If he were at home, he’d have asked for an Irn-Bru. Maybe Kristin would think it was nasty stuff—sweet, licorice-flavored, neon-orange-colored carbonated soda—but it was his Scottish nasty stuff, and that’s why he’d always liked it.
He was just tired from too much traveling. Maybe he needed a rest....
The others went back to work, and he observed Kristin and her motley crew from a distance. It fascinated him how Kristin made a game out of finishing their labeling chore. She and Mindy sang all the choruses of “Walking in a Winter Wonderland.” When they were through with that, they shared turns telling stories.
And then they lapsed into silence, quietly moving among the open boxes, filling them with jars, while Mindy closed her eyes and rested.
Outside, the snow covered the world in a peaceful white blanket. Malcolm got up by himself and wandered the facility, first completing his report-printing and diagram-photocopying, and then taking the last of his photos.
When he’d finished, he searched for Kristin. He found her sitting by herself at the table where they’d eaten lunch earlier. Her chin was in her hands and she was staring out the window, just watching the January snow come down. Hushed.
And it seemed to him that the delicious sandwich caught in his throat, because he’d known before he’d even started his day’s work, known before he’d seen the first bleeding financial statement and the first silent, still piece of machinery that he was going to shut all this down on her.
He was the man responsible.
And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
* * *
NOT EVEN MINDY could melt this glacial man’s heart, Kristin decided.
Thankfully, George had avoided them for most of the afternoon. Mindy had come back and reported to Kristin that George was “mean.”
“He frowns at me,” Mindy had said.
Yes, George was a frowner. Nothing cracked his reserve.
He was closed, disinterested, zipped-up tight. And she wouldn’t complain about it, because he had treated her with nothing but professionalism so far. During their tour of the plant, not once had he said a single inappropriate thing or even cracked a smile again.
If anything, as he followed her about the factory floor, listening silently to her explanation of the processes, cutting in only now and then to ask pertinent questions, he was insightful.
Her anxiety since she’d spoken to Dirk had slowly slipped away. She had relaxed enough to leave George to his own devices while she’d helped her crew box orders and perform quality control with the invoices and packing lists. The shipping company was due soon, and Aura was behind with their schedule. They were always behind with their schedule lately, it seemed. Whenever things went wrong at work, Andrew would be quick to criticize her, but Kristin was determined this would not be one of those times.
She just needed to accept that George Smith was enigmatic. He was a “Mr. Rochester” type. Once upon a time, Kristin would’ve found a fun challenge in bringing him out of his shell. What made this guy tick? Why was he so closed off and brooding?
Jeff dropped a box he was carrying, and George jumped. Literally jumped.
So he was nervous, too. Behind that angry, serious facade.
But, she really didn’t want to think too much about it or him. Things had changed with her since her younger more naive days. Now, she just wanted this handsome Scotsman bundled up and on his way so she could go back to her life as it was.
At the end of the afternoon, Kristin crossed the plant and found George standing in her office, sliding a folder into his briefcase. He glanced up when he saw her, and for a split second, his face brightened.
She hesitated. Maybe he was melting a bit.
“Did you find everything you needed today?” she asked cautiously.
He nodded, making a slight smile. “Yes, and I appreciate all your help.”
Well. That was...good. “Do you think you could tell Andrew that for me?” She started to smile, too, but then stopped herself, remembering. “Please, just give me a good report. It really would help me with him.”
“Yes, I’ll tell him,” George said warmly. “I’ll tell Jay Astley, as well. Maybe he can do something for you.”
Jay Astley? Her pulse elevated. “Thank you. That’s...” She paused, thinking of their gentle CEO. “Did I mention that his wife recently died?”
He nodded, slowly drawing on his coat. “Yes.”
“Laura...his wife...was the person who interviewed me for this job six years ago.” Kristin couldn’t help smiling at her memory. “We hit it off right away.”
“She made a good decision hiring you,” George said.
He thought so? She snapped her head up, but he had discreetly turned aside and was wrapping a winter scarf around his neck.
Kristin turned off the electric heater. Laura’s sudden illness and then death had upset everyone. She had been the heart and soul of their little factory community. She had also been the most perceptive person Kristin had ever met.
Anybody else would’ve thrown Kristin out of her office once she’d seen Kristin’s grades and college transcript. Kristin had not been top of her class, far from it. Back then, she’d been hopelessly disorganized. Even during her scheduled interview—so important to her—Kristin had accidentally dropped her purse, and to her mortification, two packaged tampons had rolled out onto the interview table.
But Laura had been gracious to her and had looked beyond the mistake. Maybe she had been able to tell that Kristin was bright and knew what she was talking about, despite the rough nerves. In any event, she’d simply smiled and put Kristin at ease. “It would be nice to have another woman besides me in the plant offices,” Laura had said. “Tell me, what about Aura Botanicals drew you to us?”
And Kristin had relaxed enough to just be herself for the rest of the interview. Something all too rare back in those days.
Kristin blinked, coming back to the present. She bit the inside of her cheek and glanced at George. He had cocked his head and was quietly studying her.
She smiled at him. “When Laura interviewed me for this job, she asked me why she should hire me. And I actually said to her, ‘Because I’m addicted to your Red Chestnut shampoo. It makes me happy every morning when I smell it.’”
Laughing, she shook her head. “What would you have said to such a candidate? You would have run away, wouldn’t you?”
“Actually,” George said slowly, “I like that answer. If said honestly, it shows that the employee understands the
company’s products. It shows a tendency to be loyal, and that’s the most important thing to me.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.
Something stirred in her heart. He looked so vulnerable and yet sexy at the same time. She pressed her palms to her sides and tried to stay calm.
“I definitely would’ve hired you,” he said quietly. The soft lilt of Scotland rolled over her. Her heart picked up and seemed to float.
“Really?” she breathed.
“Absolutely.” It was almost a whisper.
A spell hung in the air between them. Her knees weakened. She gazed at him, into his light, clear blue eyes, the color of the fading winter’s day, and she could not stop that bond that had seemed to spring up and suddenly intensify.
With a sharp intake of breath, George stared down at his watch. “Four o’clock,” he murmured. “My ride will be here soon.”
“Yes.” Flustered, she grabbed her coat. “I’ll walk you to the front door.”
He nodded to her. She wondered if he would reach for her hand. But, no, as always, he was careful not to touch her.
“Well, I guess this is goodbye, then,” he said. He kept his hands in his pockets.
“Yes. Of course,” she answered.
His phone rang, and he seemed relieved to turn away from her. “Hello, I’ll meet you out front,” he said into the phone.
She went back out to the packing area, trying not to think of him. She had wanted him to leave, after all. By now, the shipping guy had shown up and was loading the stack of boxes into his truck. Kristin signed time cards for Mindy, Jeff and Arlene, and was saying goodbye to them when George approached her, looking worried.
“I wonder if I might ask for your help,” he said.
So polite. But at least he hadn’t reverted back to scowling at her. She nodded. “Certainly, George.”
He seemed to flinch. “My, er, driver got into a small accident.” With a rueful expression, he gazed out the tall factory windows. In the light that fell over the parking lot, the snow swirled. Two inches accumulation, she judged. The fresh snowfall had amounted to more than the dusting she’d expected.
The Sweetest Hours (Harlequin Superromance) Page 3
