Chapter 4 #2
“I still can’t get behind a billionaire,” she says, wrinkling her nose.
“They’re all a little bit evil.” Her tone grows more pointed as she adds, “And they all have people willing to do whatever it takes to make their problems disappear. He’s probably plotting to have you kidnapped and shipped to a turnip farm in the far reaches of Uzbekistan as we speak.
” I laugh, but she doubles down, “I’m serious.
You will be forced to work for pennies until you learn enough Uzbek to explain what happened and beg them to take you to a town with a phone so you can call the U.S. embassy.”
“All the towns in Uzbekistan have phones,” I counter, though I’m honestly not one-hundred percent sure.
I wasn’t aware “Uzbek” was a language until five seconds ago.
Candy concedes, “True, but still. This is bad! You can’t blackmail people like Luke Ratcliffe.
He’s going to sue you into oblivion. By the time he’s done with you, you won’t be able to afford gas, let alone updated camera equipment.
I’ll have to wait for your dad to deliver the goat cheese, along with tales of woe about his daughter’s tragic downfall. ”
“He’s not going to sue me,” I say, dismissing her concerns with a swish of my hand. “He was caught red-handed attempting to commit a crime. I have it all on video, which I’ve already downloaded to my computer for safekeeping. Just in case.”
Candy hums low in her throat, clearly still far from impressed. “You should set up a dead man’s switch.”
“A what?”
“A dead man’s switch,” she says. “A mechanism that ensures all the evidence is forwarded to the police in the event of your untimely demise. Or sudden disappearance.”
“I don’t need a—” My phone buzzes in my coat pocket, making my heart leap.
It’s Luke. My grumpy elf recruit.
Somehow, I just know it’s him, even before I open the message to see two words from an unfamiliar number—I’m in.
I let out a “huzzah” loud enough to startle the older man napping in the wingback chair by the fire.
“Sorry,” I hiss, waving an apology his way before I turn to slide my phone across the counter to Candy. “It’s him. He’s in! I’ve locked down a volunteer with muscle to help manage the Silver Bell Falls holiday chaos and ensured a grieving man has a happy Christmas. I’m totally winning!”
Candy picks up the phone like it’s a bomb, glancing down at the message with a shake of her head, before handing it back to me.
“Wow. Congratulations, I guess. You’ve got a grumpy billionaire on a Christmas leash for the season.
I can’t say I envy you. But then, I’ve spent a lot more time catering to the whims of the insanely wealthy than you have. ”
“I won’t be catering to his whims. He’ll be catering to mine,” I insist, sounding more confident than I actually feel.
He was awfully cranky last night.
And “I’m in” isn’t exactly a rousing endorsement of enthusiasm.
Or an apology.
I was hoping he’d be more inclined to make amends once he’d sobered up in the cold light of day, but…apparently not.
Candy sighs, the long-suffering sound of a friend who loves you, but also thinks you’re the tiniest bit delusional. “Okay. I hope it all works out, I really do. Your bright-side-seeing superpowers have surprised me before.”
I grin. “That’s the spirit. Okay, I should head out.
I have to pick up prints for a client in Manchester and then swing by the sports supply store to pick up Mom’s skis.
She’s determined to get back on the slopes this season.
Her vertigo is so much better after she started that hormone replacement stuff. ”
Candy winces. “Ugh. Being a woman. It never gets better, does it?”
“Of course, it does! My mom is thriving in her fifties,” I assure her. “And she and Dad have more fun than ever. They’re going to a swing dancing class before the tree lighting tonight. Oh, and speaking of, are you coming?”
She shakes her head, her brow furrowing. “Sorry, no, I can’t. Kayla’s still at that hotel conference. I’m working doubles until she’s back. But I’ll be with you in spirit. Drink a hot toddy for me.”
“I will,” I promise, wiggling my fingers as I back away from the desk. “I’ll text you soon with updates.”
“You’d better,” she says, eyes widening meaningfully as I push through the door.
Outside, I practically float down the inn’s porch steps and into the cold, crystal clear morning. The sun is shining, the fresh snow is glistening, the sleet has already melted on the road, and Luke said yes.
I climb into my ancient Honda and head over the mountains, feeling better about things with every passing mile.
Luke needs this, I know he does, far more than I need a strong pair of arms to lift, carry, and clean up after the holiday fun around town is through.
And three Fridays is more than enough time to turn his Grinch arc into a tale of holiday redemption. It might even be enough for us to become friends again, the way we were when we were kids.
Or maybe even something more than friends…
I push the thought away, dismissing it as quickly as it arrives, but I can’t deny the fact that he looked awfully good last night. Even three sheets to the wind and glaring at me like a lump of coal he wasn’t expecting to discover in his stocking, he’s a magnetic man.
Possibly too magnetic…
This is going to be harder than you think, woman. You’d better buckle up and prepare for some serious turbulence on the flight from Crankyville to Happy Holiday Town.
The voice in my head sounds like Candy’s, but the fear is all my own.
I’m an optimistic person—some might say naively so—but I’m no fool. Luke will be a hard nut, possibly too hard for even the most determined agent of good cheer, to crack.
But as I weave my way down the mountain into Manchester, I can’t help feeling hopeful. There’s something about this time of year, after all.
Something that makes even the hardest hearts soften and start to grow.