The Men Who Make Christmas
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“I’m sorry” was his automatic reply. Greenwood was a great vendor, but he was notorious for his chattiness. James made a point of avoiding direct conversations if he could.
Apparently, the daughter-in-law knew what he meant, because the corners of her mouth twitched. About as close to a smile as he’d seen out of her. “She said she’ll join you as soon as she can. In the meantime, she thought you’d like a tour of the retail store.”
“She did, did she?” More likely, she thought it would distract him while she was stuck on the phone.
Noelle shrugged. “She thought it would give you an idea of the foot traffic we handle on a day-to-day basis.”
He’d seen the sales reports; he knew what kind of traffic they handled. Still, it couldn’t hurt to check out the store. Hammond’s was always on the lookout for new ways to engage their customers. “Are you going to be my guide?” he asked, reaching across to hit the elevator button.
“Yes, I am.” If she thought he missed the soft sigh she let out before speaking, she was mistaken.
All the more reason to take the tour.
The doors opened, and James motioned for her to step in first. Partly to be a gentleman, but mostly because holding back gave him an opportunity to steal a surreptitious look at her figure. The woman might be tiny, but she was perfectly proportioned. Make that normally proportioned, he amended. Too many of the women he met had try-hard figures. Worked out and enhanced to artificial perfection. Noelle looked fit, but she still carried a little more below than she did on top, which he appreciated.
“We bill ourselves as the country’s largest toy store,” Noelle said once the elevator doors shut. “The claim is based on square footage. We are the largest retail space in the continental US. This weekend alone we’ll attract thousands of customers.”
“Black Friday weekend. The retailers’ best friend,” he replied. Then, because he couldn’t resist poking the bee’s nest a little, he added, “That is, until Cyber Monday came along. These days we move almost as much inventory online. Pretty soon people won’t come out for Black Friday at all. They’ll do their shopping Thanksgiving afternoon while watching TV.”
“Hammond’s customers might, but you can’t visit a Christmas wonderland via a computer.”
That again. He turned to look at her. “Do you really think kids five or six years from now are going to care about visiting Santa Claus?”
“Of course they are. It’s Santa.”
“I hate to break it to you, but kids are a little more realistic these days. They grow fast. Our greeting card fantasy holiday is going to get harder and harder to sell.”
“Especially if you insist on calling it a fantasy.”
What should he call it? Fact? “Belinda wasn’t kidding when she said you were loyal, was she?”
“The Frybergs are family. Of course I would be loyal.”
Not necessarily, but James didn’t feel like arguing the point.
“Even if I weren’t—related that is—I’d respect what Ned and Belinda created.” She crossed her arms. Again. “They understood that retail is about more than moving inventory.”
Her implication was clear: she considered him a corporate autocrat who was concerned solely with the bottom line. While she might be correct, he didn’t intend to let her get away with the comment unchallenged.
Mirroring her posture, he tilted his head and looked straight at her. “Is that so? What exactly is it about then?”
“People, of course.”
“Of course.” She was not only loyal, but naive. Retail was all about moving product. All the fancy window dressing she specialized in was to convince people to buy the latest and greatest, and then to buy the next latest and greatest the following year. And so on and so forth.
At that moment, the elevator opened and before them lay Fryberg’s Toys in all its glory. Aisle upon aisle of toys, spread out like a multicolored promised land. There were giant stuffed animals arranged by environment, lions and tigers in the jungle, cows and horses by the farm. Construction toys were spread around a jobsite, around which cars zipped on a multilevel racetrack. There was even a wall of televisions blasting the latest video games. A special display for every interest, each one overflowing with products for sale.
“Oh, yeah,” he murmured, “it’s totally about the people.”
A remote-control drone zipped past their heads as they walked toward the center aisle. A giant teddy bear made of plastic building bricks marked the entrance like the Colossus of Rhodes.
“It’s like Christmas morning on steroids,” he remarked as they passed under the bear’s legs.
“This is the Christmas Castle, after all. Everything should look larger-than-life and magical. To stir the imagination.”
Not to mention the desire for plastic bricks and stuffed animals, thought James.
“Santa’s workshop and the Candy Cane Forest are located at the rear of the building,” she said pointing to an archway bedecked with painted holly and poinsettia. “That’s also where Ned’s model train layout is located. It used to be a much larger section, but now it’s limited to one room-size museum.”
Yet something else lost to the march of time, James refrained from saying. The atmosphere was chilly enough. Looking around he noticed their aisle led straight toward the archway, and that the only way to avoid Santa was to go to the end, turn and head back up a different aisle.
He nodded at the arch. “What’s on the other side?” he asked.
“Other side of what?”
“Santa’s woods or whatever it is.”
“Santa’s workshop and Candy Cane Forest,” she corrected. “There’s a door that leads back into the store, or they can continue on to see the reindeer.”
“Meaning they go home to purchase their child’s wish item online from who-knows-what site.”
“Or come back another day. Most people don’t do their Christmas shopping with the kids in tow.”
“How about in April, when they aren’t Christmas shopping? They walk outside to see the reindeer and poof! There goes your potential sale.”
That wouldn’t do at all. “After the kids visit Santa, the traffic should be rerouted back into the store so the parents can buy whatever it is Little Susie or Johnny wished for.”
“You want to close off access to the reindeer?”
She needn’t look so horrified. It wasn’t as though he’d suggested euthanizing the creatures. “I want customers to buy toys. And they aren’t going to if they are busy looking at reindeer. What’s that?”
He pointed to a giant moose-like creature wearing a Santa’s hat and wreath and standing to the right of the archway. It took up most of the wall space, forcing the crowd to congregate toward the middle. As a result, customers looking to walk past the archway to another aisle had to battle a throng of children.
“Oh, that’s Fryer Elk, the store mascot,” Noelle replied. “Ned created him when he opened the store. Back in the day, he appeared in the ads. They retired him in the eighties and he’s been here ever since.”
“He’s blocking the flow of traffic. He should be somewhere else.”
For a third time, James got the folded arm treatment. “He’s an institution,” she replied, as if that was reason enough for his existence.
He could be Ned Fryberg standing there stuffed himself, and he would still be hindering traffic. Letting out a long breath, James reached into his breast pocket for his notebook. Once the sale was finalized, he would send his operations manager out here to evaluate the layout.
“You really don’t have any respect for tradition, do you?” Noelle asked.
He peered over his pen at her. Just figuring this out, was she? That’s what happened when you spent a fortune crafting a corporate image. People started believing the image was real.
“No,” he replied. “I don’t. In fact…” He put his notebook away. “We might as well get something straight right now. As far as I’m concerned, the only thing that matters is making sure Hammond’s stays profitable for the next fifty years. Everything else can go to blazes.”
“Everything,” she repeated. Her eyes narrowed.
“Everything, and that includes elks, tradition and especially Chris—”
He never got a chance to finish.
CHAPTER TWO
FOUR STITCHES AND a concussion. That’s what the emergency room doctor told Noelle. “He’s fortunate. Those props can do far worse,” she added. “Your associates really shouldn’t be flying remote-control drones inside.”
“So they’ve been told,” Noelle replied. In no uncertain terms by James Hammond once he could speak.
The drone had slammed into the back of his head, knocking him face-first into a pile of model racecar kits. The sight of the man sprawled on the floor might have been funny if not for the blood running down the back of his skull. Until that minute, she’d been annoyed as hell at the man for his obvious lack of respect toward Fryberg tradition. Seeing the blood darkening his hair quickly checked her annoyance. As blood was wont to do.
That was until she turned him over and he started snarling about careless associates and customer safety. Then she went back to being annoyed. Only this time, it was because the man had a point. What if the drone had struck a customer—a child? Things could have been even worse. As it was, half of Miss Speroni’s first grade class was probably going to have nightmares from witnessing the accident.
Then there was the damage to James Hammond himself. Much as she disliked the man, stitches and a concussion were nothing to sneeze at.
“How long before he’s ready for discharge?” she asked.
“My nurse is bandaging the stitches right now,” the doctor replied. “Soon as I get his paperwork written up, he’ll be all yours.”
Oh, goodie. Noelle didn’t realize she’d gotten custody. She went back to the waiting room where Belinda was finishing up a phone call.
“Bob is working on a statement for the press,” her mother-in-law told her. “And we’re pulling the product off the shelves per advice from the lawyers. Thankfully, the incident didn’t get caught on camera so we won’t have to deal with that. I doubt Mr. Hammond would like being a social media sensation.”
“I’m not sure Mr. Hammond likes much of anything,” Noelle replied. She was thinking of the remark he made right before the drone struck him. “Did you know, he actually said he doesn’t like Christmas? How can the man think that and run a store like Hammond’s?” Or Fryberg’s.
“Obviously, his disdain hasn’t stopped him from doubling Hammond’s profits over the past two years,” Belinda replied. “What matters isn’t that he like Christmas, but that he keeps the people in Fryberg employed, which he will.”
“Hope they like working for Mr. Frosty. Did you know he wants to get rid of Fryer?”
“Well, some change is bound to happen,” Belinda said.
“I know,” Noelle grumbled. She bowed her head. She really did. Same way she understood that the retail industry was changing. She also knew she was acting irrational and childish about the entire situation. Ever since Belinda announced the sale, however, she’d been unable to catch her breath. It felt like there were fingers clawing inside her looking for purchase. A continual churning sensation. Like she was about to lose her grip.
James Hammond’s arrival only made the feeling worse.
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it though,” she said referring to the prospect of change.
Belinda nudged her shoulder. “Sweetheart, you wouldn’t be you if you did. Cheer up. Mr. Hammond will be out of your hair soon.”
“Not soon enough,” she replied.
“What wouldn’t be soon enough?” Hammond’s voice caused her to start in her chair. Turning, she saw a nurse pushing him toward her. He was slouched down in a wheelchair, a hand propping his head. Noelle caught a glimpse of a white bandage on the back of his scalp.
“The bandage can come off tomorrow,” the nurse told them.
“How are you feeling, Mr. Hammond?” Belinda asked.
“Like someone split my head open. Who knew such a little device could pack such a wallop?”
“Lots of things pack a wallop when they’re going thirty miles an hour. We pulled the toy from the shelves. Though I doubt it would have been popular anyway, once parents heard what happened.”
“Don’t blame them. Thing could slice an ear off.” Groaning, he leaned forward and buried his face in both hands as though one was suddenly not enough to hold it up. “I’m going to have Hammond’s pull them too as soon as I get back to Boston,” he spoke through his fingers.
“That won’t be anytime soon, I’m afraid. You heard what Dr. Nelson said,” the nurse warned.
“What did she say?” Noelle asked. She didn’t like the sound of the nurse’s comment.
Hammond waved a hand before cradling his head again. “Nothing.”
“Mr. Hammond has a slight concussion. He’s been advised to rest for the next couple of days. That includes no air travel.”
“You mean you’re staying here?” No, no, no. Noelle’s stomach started to twist. He was supposed to go away, not stick around for the weekend.
“The doctor merely recommended I rest,” James replied. “No one said it was mandatory.”
“Perhaps not, but it’s generally a good idea to take doctors’ advice,” Belinda said.
“We’re talking about a handful of stitches. Nothing I haven’t had before. I’ll be fine. Why don’t we go have our lunch as planned and finish our conversation? I could use some food in my stomach. What kind of soup did you say they made?”
“Gingerbread,” Noelle replied.
“The only place you should be going is to bed,” the nurse said.
Much as Noelle hated to admit it, the nurse was right. He was looking paler by the minute. She remembered how unsteady he’d been right after the accident; he could barely sit up.
Funny, but he still looked formidable despite the pallor. A virile invalid. Noelle didn’t think it possible. Must be the combination of square jaw and broad shoulders, she decided. And the dark suit. Black made everyone look intimidating.
Again, he waved off the nurse’s advice. “Nonsense. I rested while waiting for the doctor. Why don’t we go have our lunch as planned and finish our conversation? I could use some food in my stomach. What kind of soup did you say they made?”
“I just told you.”
A crease deepened between his eyes. “You did?”
“Uh-huh. Two seconds ago.”
“That only proves I’m hungry. I’m having trouble listening.” He pushed himself to a standing position, squaring his shoulders proudly when he reached his feet. His upper body swayed back and forth unsteadily. “See?” he said. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Noelle looked over her shoulder at Belinda who shook her head in return. “I’m not going to negotiate anything while you’re unsteady on your feet,” her mother-in-law said. “I won’t be accused of taking advantage when you’re not thinking straight.”
James laughed. “You’re a smart businesswoman, Belinda, but I can assure you, no one ever takes advantage of me.”
“That I can believe,” Noelle murmured.
He looked at her and smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Mrs. Fryberg. Now how about we go get that lunch we missed…”
It took two steps for him to lose his balance. His eyes started to roll back in his head, and his knees started to buckle.
Noelle reached him first. “Okay, that’s enough,” she said, reaching around his waist. Thanks to the size difference, it took a minute to maneuver him, but eventually she managed to lower him into the wheelchair. Unfortunately, the downward momentum pulled her along, as well. She landed with one hand pressed against his torso and knee wedged between his thighs. Man, but he was solid. A tall, lean block of granite.
She looked up to find herself nose to nose with him. Up close, his eyes were far more dappled than she realized, the green more of an accent color than true eye shade.
He had freckles too. A smattering across the bridge of his nose.
Cold-blooded businessmen weren’t supposed to have freckles.
“Think you might listen to the nurse now?” she asked.
“I was light-headed for a moment, that’s all.”
“Light-headed, huh?” She pushed herself to her feet. To her embarrassment, the move required splaying her hand wider, so that the palm of her hand pressed over his heart. Fortunately, he was too dizzy or distracted to comment.
“Any more light-headed and you would have hit the floor,” she told him. “Are you trying to get more stitches?”
“I’m not…”
“Face it, Mr. Hammond, you’re in no condition to do anything but rest,” Belinda said. “We’ll talk when you’re feeling better. Monday.”
“Monday?” He’d started to rest his head in his hands again, but when Belinda spoke, he jerked his head upward. The pain crossing his face made Noelle wince. “Why wait until then? I won’t need that many days to recover.”
“Maybe not, but that is the next time I’ll be able to see you. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. The only business I’ll be discussing is whether the stuffing is too dry.”
“What about Friday?”
Noelle answered for her. “Black Friday, remember? Around these parts, it’s the kickoff for the annual Christmas festival, the biggest weekend of our year.”
“I’ll be much too busy to give you the proper time,” Belinda added.
Noelle watched the muscle twitching in Hammond’s jaw. Clearly, he preferred being the one who dictated the schedule, and not the other way around.
“Let me get this straight.” Whether his voice was low by design or discomfort, Noelle couldn’t guess. His tension came though nevertheless. “I’m not allowed to fly home for the next twenty-four hours…”
“At least,” the nurse said.
The muscle twitched again. “At least twenty-four hours,” he corrected. “Nor will you meet with me for the next five days?”
“That’s correct,” Belinda replied. “We can meet first thing Monday morning, and conclude our preliminary negotiations.”
“I see.” He nodded. Slowly. Anyone with two eyes could tell he didn’t appreciate this change in plans at all. Noelle would be lying if she didn’t say it gave her a tiny trill of satisfaction. Payback for his wanting to toss Fryer.
“Fine,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “We’ll talk Monday. Only because my head hurts too much to argue.” Noelle had a feeling he wasn’t kidding. “What was the name of that hotel?”
“The Nutcracker Inn,” she replied.
“Right, that one. I’m going to need a room, and something to eat. What did you say that soup was?”
“Gingerbread.” It was the third time he’d asked. She looked at the nurse who nodded.
“Temporary short-term memory loss can happen with concussions. It should recede soon enough. However, I think you might have a more pressing problem.”
“I do?”
“He does?”
The two of them spoke at the same time. “I’m not sure the Nutcracker has any rooms,” the nurse replied. “You know how booked it gets during the holidays.”
“Wait a second.” James tried to look up at the nurse, only to wince and close his eyes. “Please don’t tell me there’s no room at the inn.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” the nurse replied. “Did you know that once we even had a baby born—”
“I doubt Mr. Hammond will have to do anything quite as dramatic,” Noelle interjected. No need for the conversation to head down that particular road.
The nurse offered a tight-lipped smile. Apparently, she didn’t appreciate being cut off. “Either way, you’re going to need someone to look in on you. Doctor’s orders.”
“The concierge will love that request,” Hammond muttered.
“We could arrange for a private duty nurse.”
“Good grief,” Belinda said. “That doesn’t sound pleasant at all.”
“Pleasant isn’t exactly on the table right now.” Hammond’s eyes had grown heavy lidded and his words were slurred. It was obvious the entire conversation was exhausting him, and Noelle couldn’t help but feel bad.
Although she doubted he’d appreciate the compassion. A man like Hammond, with his disregard for sentiment and tradition, would despise showing any hint of vulnerability.
“Of course pleasant is on the table,” Belinda said. “This is Fryberg.” The meaning behind her emphasis was obvious.
Hammond let out a low groan. Still feeling compassionate, Noelle decided the noise was coincidental.
Her mother-in-law continued as if the noise never happened. “We’re not going to let you spend your weekend in some hotel room, eating room service and being attended to by a stranger. You’ll spend the weekend with me. That way you can recuperate, and enjoy a proper Thanksgiving, as well.”
The strangest look crossed Hammond’s face. Part surprise, part darkness as though her mother-in-law’s suggestion unnerved him. Noelle didn’t picture him as a man who got unnerved. Ever.
“I don’t want to put you out,” he said.
“You won’t. I have plenty of room. I’ll even make you some…oh, shoot.” A look crossed her features, not nearly as dark as Hammond’s, but definitely distressed.
“What is it?” Noelle asked.
“The Orion House Dinner is this evening. I completely forgot.”
In all the craziness, so had Noelle. Fryberg’s was being honored for its fund-raising efforts on behalf of homeless veterans. “Would you mind?” her mother-in-law asked. “I don’t want Orion House to think I don’t appreciate the honor. The project meant so much to Ned.”
“I know,” replied Noelle. After Kevin’s death, her father-in-law had channeled his grief into helping as many veteran programs as possible. Orion House had topped the list. “He was very passionate about wanting to help.”
“That he was,” Belinda said, getting the faraway look she always got when they discussed Ned. The family had been through a lot these past years, and yet they continued to channel their energy into the community. Their dedication in the face of grief made her proud to bear the Fryberg name.
“Would you mind stepping in instead?”
“Not at all,” she told her. “I’d love to.” It’d be an honor to accept an award for them.
“Thank goodness.” The older woman let out a long sigh. “I was afraid that because of our words earlier… Never mind.” Whatever her mother-in-law had been about to say she waved away. “Let me pull my car around. I’ll help you get Mr. Hammond settled, and then go home to change.”
Help her…? Wait… What exactly had she agreed to do?
Noelle opened her mouth, closed it, then opened it again. Nothing came out though. That’s because she knew what she’d agreed to. As surely as the sickening feeling growing in her stomach.
Somehow, James Hammond had become her responsibility. She looked over to her mother-in-law, but Belinda was busy fishing through her purse. And here she thought she would be free of the man. Talk about your sick karmic jokes. If only she’d been the one hit in the head.
“Do you need an extra copy of the discharge instructions?” the nurse asked her.
“No,” Noelle replied with a sigh. “I know what to expect.”
There was only one consolation, if you could call it that. Hammond looked about as thrilled over this change of events as she was.
Goodie. They could be miserable together.
A few minutes later, James found himself being wheeled outside behind a tiny bundle of annoyance, who marched toward the waiting sedan with her arms yet again wrapped tightly across her chest. A voice behind his headache wondered if they were permanently attached to her body that way.
“Why don’t you take the front seat?” Belinda opened the passenger door. “I’ve pulled it all the way back so you’ll have plenty of leg room.”
Front seat, back seat. Didn’t make much difference. Neither were the cockpit of his private plane. His head felt split in two, the world was tipping on its axis and he wanted nothing more than to be in his bed back in Boston. Damn drone.
He pushed himself to his feet only to have the world rock back and forth like a seesaw. A second later, an arm wrapped around his biceps, steadying him, and he smelled the sweet scent of orange blossoms. The elf. He recognized the perfume from the confines of the elevator. Funny, but he expected her to smell Christmassy, not like Florida sunshine. Maybe they were out of sugar cookie perfume this week.