Christmas Wishes and Mistletoe Kisses: A feel good Christmas romance novel (7 page)

“Forgive me. You have the artistic eye. I trust your vision. Please. Eat. I’d hate to be a host who serves cold food.”

“Does everyone always do what you say?” It was a bold question, but his eyes had given her the courage to ask.

“Everyone who works for me, yes.”

“But I want your approval on my ideas. I want to know that I’ve met your expectations.”

“Believe me,” he said, a slight smile playing at his lips. “You’ve exceeded my expectations.”

She wanted to do a good job, finish the deal. This money would give her enough to have a real Christmas for Max, one where she could get him everything on his list and make it the best Christmas ever.

Max had asked her once why some kids in his class got such big things from Santa, but he didn’t. He’d worried that he’d been bad somehow, and he didn’t know it. Her heart ached when he’d said that. Under the pressure of that moment, she’d said that Santa did his best to get everyone what they wanted, but he didn’t have enough room in his sleigh to do that for everyone. She promised Max his year would come, but as he was getting older, and the items on his list were more specific and more expensive, she feared it wouldn’t happen. She was running out of years. Pretty soon, he wouldn’t believe in Santa anymore, and she wouldn’t have the chance to prove her statement true.

Abbey cut a piece of chicken. They ate quietly for a while before Nick finally spoke. “Something is troubling you. I can tell by your face.”

She shook her head a little too quickly, heat burning her cheeks, and she knew he saw through it. He was quietly watching her with those beautiful blue eyes, waiting for her to come clean. She chewed on her lip as she tried to find something to say. She didn’t want to tell him that she needed the money. She was too proud for that.

“You’re paying me to decorate your home, yet you don’t want any input in it. It just worries me a little,” she said, offering him half the truth.

His gaze was unstill as he searched for an explanation or an answer—something in response—but she spoke again before he could say anything.

“Would it be okay if I ask you some things to try to get a feeling for who you are? It sounds silly to you, I’m sure, but it would be so helpful as I’m putting things together. Nothing too personal or anything,” she smiled shyly. “Just to get to know you.”

“Of course.”

Abbey took a moment to collect herself. She was sitting opposite a millionaire in his home, and she was able to ask him anything she wanted. Who got this kind of opportunity? Questions were coming to her in rapid fire, and she didn’t want to waste the chance by asking the wrong questions.

“What were you like as a kid?” she asked, immediately worrying that she’d just asked him too personal a question after she’d said she wouldn’t. But these were the kinds of things she needed to know if she wanted to do a good job for him.

“Quiet.” He smiled at her, and it twisted her stomach so much that she looked down at her plate and cut a piece of chicken.

“You just have one sister?” She looked back up at him.

“Yes.”

“Who’s the oldest?”

“Robin. She is four years older than I.”

This idea warmed her. Second children had very independent personalities, she once learned in her psychology class at the community college. But they did their own thing, they were often the quiet leaders, they could manage people well because of their empathy for others and their easy-going nature. She thought about the pies he’d sent over.

“I think four years apart is good. Perfectly spaced. I think about these kinds of things and I only have one child.” She smiled.

“You’d get along with my mother,” he chuckled.

“Where is she?”

“Colorado. She moved away after my father died.”

Had that been why he’d gotten quiet on the phone before when she’d talked about her father and how he’d passed away? They had that in common, and now she wanted to know his story. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

She waited to see if she should delve into that any further, but his expression seemed to be anticipating her next question, so she pressed ahead. “Are you more like your mother or your father?”

His face was thoughtful, but it was clear the answer was already on his lips. “My father.”

“Why?”

“How is this helping you decorate my house?” His expression made her feel as though she could be playful a little with him. She liked that.

“I’m getting to know you. It helps me pick things out that I think you might like. How are you and your father alike?”

“We both have relatively even temperaments. We believe in fairness.” He stopped and cleared his throat. “If you stay with traditional décor and don’t do anything too over the top, I’ll be happy with what you choose,” he added, obviously trying to put an end to this questioning.

“What was your dad like?” she asked anyway.

He took in a deep breath and let it out. She was pushing him. The complete exhilaration she got talking to him and learning about him made it all worth it. She smiled at his slight frustration with having to answer yet another question. He caught it, his features softening slightly.

“Busy.” He looked down at the table, blinking his eyes a little more than usual. He was clearly uncomfortable sharing this bit of information. Then he looked up at her. “He worked most of my childhood. I barely saw him. Most of the time it was just my sister and my mother around.”

“I can understand what that’s like,” she said. “Remember, I grew up most of my life without my father.”

He nodded.

Their similarities seemed to hit home with him, and Nick fell quiet. They ate for a moment before he said, “My dad died before I could really know him as well. That’s why I’m determined to make his business successful.”

“How does making his business successful help you to know him?”

“It doesn’t.” He took a sip of his tea and set the glass down slowly. “But, I know he loved us, and I feel as though his work was so important to him that it kept him from us—the people he loved—so to honor his memory, I feel like I need to do this for him, to show him how much I loved him. Even when he worked all the time.”

“But what if working all the time wasn’t necessarily the best choice on his part, and now you’re following in his footsteps?”

“The difference was that he had a family and I don’t. I did, but I don’t now so it all worked out.”

“It all worked out?”

“I’m not meant to have a family. It’s not who I am. It took a misstep before I realized it.”

“Your marriage was a
misstep
?”

“My ex-wife, Sarah, was the ‘right’ girl for me on paper. She was raised in a similar family. I dated her long enough that when she began hinting around for marriage, I proposed. It was a logical step. I figured the least I could do for her was give her the big ring and decadent wedding. But once we were under the same roof, her insecurities were overwhelming. She was always trying to keep up with everyone else. She wanted more and more from me—a family that I wasn’t ready for, this house in Richmond…”

Abbey’s own experience with Vince paralleled Nick’s in a way. Vince hadn’t wanted a family either; he hadn’t been ready, and it had happened anyway. She couldn’t help but find a comparison to Nick. The difference was that Sarah hadn’t gotten pregnant. “So you left her?” she asked.

“I had to work quite a bit to bring in enough money to keep her happy. I didn’t mind that because I wanted the business to be successful for my father, and it kept me away. I knew that if I spent too much time with her, she’d want a baby and it wasn’t what I wanted. My life wasn’t in a place where a baby would be a good idea. I’d grown up missing my father, and I didn’t want that for my child. So, one night I came home to find her on the sofa. She’d been crying. She told me that she wanted me to stop working so much and to build a family with her, and if I didn’t, she’d leave me. I struggled with it, but in the end, I couldn’t give it to her. She left the Thursday of that week.”

“I didn’t plan on having my son, Max, and I wasn’t necessarily ready myself for a family, but now, I can’t imagine life without him.”

“We’re all different, aren’t we?” he said with a melancholy smile.

What Abbey had learned from Vince was that she couldn’t convince someone who didn’t want children to want them, so she decided that she’d better leave this conversation now. If she couldn’t persuade the father of her child that family was a blessing, she certainly wouldn’t sway Nick tonight over dinner. So she decided to lighten the mood.

“What do you do for fun?” she asked, resuming her questioning to change the subject.

“I collect cars,” he said.

“I need to understand your motivation for this,” she said. “You have a ton of cars that you don’t drive. You just look at them?”

“Yes. But it isn’t a
ton
. I have about ten.”

“Oh, only ten,” she teased.

“I have a Ferrari I’m donating to charity. You would probably like that, right?” He said it as if that would make everything else make sense.

He threw that word around—charity. “Do you have a passion for whatever cause it is?” she asked. Or did he just give things away to justify the rest of his spending habits?

“I have a friend whose son has multiple sclerosis. So, I donate to that charity.”

She liked his answer. “I’m sorry to hear about your friend’s son. Do you know him well?”

“Yes. His name is Michael.”

“And you’re donating a car to his foundation?”

“Yes.” He was smiling, proud.

“Have you ever been to see Michael?”

“Not recently. Since he was diagnosed the family has been pretty preoccupied, but we used to get together quite a bit before.”

“I’m sure the family is very thankful for your donation,” she said carefully, “but do you think that he might like a visit from you instead?”

She could see the defensiveness swell up in his face, covering it like the gray clouds covered the sky outside. It was clear that he didn’t like it when someone questioned what he did.

“I didn’t mean to pry. It was just a thought. I’m sorry,” she said, and she meant it. “Let’s change the subject. What else do you like to do?”

“I attend other charity events or play polo…”

She’d never known anyone who actually played polo before. Did they even have a team in Richmond? She’d never heard of one. The idea of it seemed so ludicrous that she couldn’t fathom it. It reminded her again how different their worlds really were. Her discomfort came out as a laugh, and she quickly tried to squelch it, worried she’d offended him.

“What in the world could be funny about that?” His brows were pulled downward, his face set in a curious frown.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “It just surprised me, that’s all.”

“In what way?”

“The closest I’ve come to a charity event is bagging up old clothes to donate to the second-hand shop in town. And, when it comes to sports, I generally stick with something like softball,” she answered honestly.

He nodded, thoughtful.

“I played softball because that’s what girls did, but I prefer to play baseball with the guys. I always felt like I could hit an overhand pitch more easily. It’s probably all in my head. Have you ever played baseball before?”

His eyes found hers and stayed there as he shook his head.

“Never?”

“No. I’ve never even been to a baseball game.”

Abbey thought about the old white jeep she’d had as a teenager, the battered sides that unzipped, allowing the wind to blow her hair around as she pulled up to the baseball fields to watch the game, the smell of roasting peanuts, popcorn, and burgers assaulting her when she parked the car, the red dust from the fields rising into the air under the heat of the sun. She remembered sitting in the folding metal seats, slipping out of her flip-flops, and propping her feet on the bottom of the seat in front of her as she tried unsuccessfully to keep the ketchup and mustard from sliding off her hotdog and onto her hand. The cheer of the crowd, the blinding white lights as the sun went down, and the quiet calm that happened between plays was a fond memory for her, and she couldn’t imagine not having that experience to keep her warm during months like these.

“You’ll have to go to a game sometime,” she said, wondering if he would enjoy himself somewhere like that.

He smiled, but it was that pleasant smile that she was learning he offered when he was just trying to be polite. He probably wouldn’t like it at all, she thought. She swung her feet back and forth a little under the table to try to keep them warm, wishing she could be in front of the fire in the ballroom like they had been the other night. Clearly, he was more comfortable in the dining room. When she focused on him, he was studying her, his eyes following her hands, her face, her lips, and he was still watching her now.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asked.

Her question caught him off guard and he quickly looked down at his food, and stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork.

“I don’t mind,” she said, leaning into his view. “I just wondered, that’s all.”

“You are…” he paused. “Different than anyone I’ve ever met.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she said with a smile.

“
I
’m cold
, Mama,” Max said, shivering under his blanket, beads of sweat on his forehead.

He’d been like this all day yesterday and the day before. Abbey had been able to stay with him the first day since it had been Sunday. She’d called Nick to tell him she wouldn’t be there like she’d originally planned, and the burden of missing a day to decorate had bothered her. Then she’d missed Monday. She hadn’t seen Caroline or done any decorating. When she’d called, Nick had understood, but she knew she didn’t have much time.

Today was December second, and she had only twenty-two days left to get it all done. Now it was Tuesday, and Max wasn’t any better. She knew he couldn’t go to school with a lingering fever and she dared not leave him at her mother’s house to get everyone else sick—especially Gramps. She wanted to be there for Max, take care of her little guy, and make him feel better. He needed her, and she didn’t need anything else getting in the way of caring for him.

“Can you eat anything?” She pushed a small Spider-Man plate toward him on his dresser. The crackers had been there all morning and he hadn’t eaten yesterday.

He shook his head.

“I’ll be right back. Call me if you need me,” she said, getting up.

She was going to have to let Nick know that yet again she wouldn’t be there. She rubbed her forehead as she looked down at the timings sheets she’d made to ensure that every detail was complete before Christmas. Her to-do list was mounting. She picked up her phone. When she dialed Nick’s number, her hands were shaking as the phone began to ring.

“Nick Sinclair.”

She sat up straight, repositioning the phone on her ear. “Hi. It’s Abbey.”

“Ah, Abbey. I’m glad you called. A ton of boxes arrived yesterday. I had Richard put them in the upstairs hallway for now. Some of the furniture is in place, but you may need to tell him if it isn’t in the correct room. He tried to match what you’d ordered. I’ve also had a call that one of the bedroom suites you’ve ordered is being delivered today. Apparently, they weren’t sure if they could do the delivery that quickly, but they had an overstock at the warehouse…”

She bit her lip. This job not only meant a lot of money for her family, but she felt good doing it. Just hearing the lift in his voice as Nick told her about the items that had been delivered made her want to do this right. He said he didn’t care much about it, but she wondered if the changes were growing on him.

“Max is still sick,” she said into the silence. She struggled with even saying it. She knew that Nick would probably understand, but she didn’t want to miss another day. “Would there be a way I could bring him?” she heard herself ask. Guilt swelled in her stomach as she thought about dragging poor Max across town to this job. She knew she shouldn’t, but she didn’t have any other ideas.

“I’m sorry that he’s still ill,” Nick said.

The buzz of silence that followed was absolute torture. It was unprofessional to bring a sick kid to work, but she had no other options if she wanted to be finished in time for Christmas. She needed to see Nick’s expression, to read those blue eyes of his. What was he thinking? She waited, blindly, for his answer.

“Do you feel you’d be able to work and tend to him at the same time? Would that be too much on you?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Then bring him.”

“Thank you,” she said, her voice giving away her relief.

“You’re welcome.”

Feeling the stress of the situation lift off her shoulders, she ended the call and headed back to Max’s room. He was sitting up in bed, nibbling a cracker. She smiled. “Hi, sweet pea. Your tummy doing okay?”

He nodded.

She climbed into the bed with him and pulled the covers around his waist as he sat beside her. “Want to know something?”

He nodded again, a few cracker crumbs falling into his lap.

“You are going to get to see a real mansion today. And, the floors are so shiny that you can ice skate in your socks if you want to. Do you think you’re up for going?”

His face showed about as much excitement as a sick child could muster. “That sounds like fun!”

“Well, let’s get all packed up, then! I’ll grab your sleeping bag in case you get tired.” She rummaged around in his closet and pulled out the bedding, neatly rolled and secured with a handle. “Do you want to bring a few toys?” She handed him a bag. “You choose what you want to bring and I’ll get some clothes for you.”

“
W
hoa
, how many people live here?” Max said, perking up more than he had in the last few days. They rounded the great drive that took them past the James River and up to the house.

Abbey looked over at her son. “One,” she said, glad to see how excited he was. Perhaps getting out would be good for him.

“One person lives here? Why?” He looked back at the house.

With her free hand, she reached over to smooth Max’s hair, which had popped back up despite her many attempts to comb it down this morning. “The man who lives here doesn’t have a whole lot of family close by and he lives by himself. His name is Mr. Sinclair, but I call him Nick.” She realized only then that she didn’t know if she should call him Nick, and she couldn’t remember if she’d ever addressed him as such, but in her mind, that’s what she’d called him.

“What should I call him?”

“Maybe Mr. Sinclair.” She stopped the car and turned off the engine. “Ready?”

When Richard answered the door, Max did a deep, dramatic bow and said, “Hello, Mr. Sinclair.” Richard clearly attempted to keep a straight face, and Abbey shook her head infinitesimally while tugging on the shoulder of Max’s shirt to make him stand up.

“That’s not him,” she whispered. “And you can just greet Mr. Sinclair like you greet everyone. This is Richard.”

“But that’s what they do in movies.”

Richard bowed. “Hello, Mr. Fuller,” he said. He took a step back to let them enter. Abbey smiled at his gesture. “I hope I’ve put all the furniture in the right rooms,” he said to Abbey. “I think I’ve got it, based on the size of it all. Just call me if you need to move anything. Don’t try to do it yourself. The boxes of decorations are all in the hallway still.”

“Thank you, Richard.”

Max took his shoes off and lined them up at the front door. He peered up at Abbey with an unsure look. The color was coming back into his face a little. He’d held down the crackers she’d given him earlier, and he’d even had some juice before they’d gotten there. She smiled and left her shoes beside his. “Before we go upstairs, do you want to see a giant piano?”

“Yes!”

Abbey took him into the ballroom. She figured she’d check for those hidden outlets while she was in there. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she said, clicking on the lights for each of the Christmas trees.

Max was standing in front of the piano, his gaze moving from one side of it to the other.

“It’s so shiny.”

“I know.”

Max moved over to the bench and sat down in front of the gleaming keys.

“Don’t touch them,” she whispered gently. “You might get your germs on them. We don’t know if you’re still contagious or not.”

“It’s all right,” Nick said from the doorway, and Abbey turned around. “Hello,” he said, walking toward them. “You must be Max,” he said, producing that generic smile. He stood at just enough distance to make Abbey worry that he thought Max might get him sick. She wished that she hadn’t had to bring him.

“This is Mr. Sinclair,” Abbey introduced him. “He’s
very
good at playing the piano.”

Nick smiled.

“Would you like to try to play?” Nick asked Max.

Max nodded.

“Go ahead then.”

Max scooted the bench closer, creating a hollow screech throughout the room, and Abbey cringed at the thought of what it might have done to the floors. She hoped he hadn’t scratched them. She looked over at Nick, but he didn’t seem fazed. He seemed to be thinking about something else. Max tinkled out a few notes, the sounds getting deeper as he made his way down the keys, and Nick focused on him again.

“Lovely,” Nick said, but his thoughts still seemed a little preoccupied. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Max.” He turned to Abbey. “Is there anything that you’ll need from me to help you get started?”

“I think Richard has everything under control.”

“Okay.” Without another word, he left the room.

Abbey stood there a moment as Max continued to play on the piano. Nick had always been somewhat reserved, and he wasn’t forthcoming with his daily goings-on, but today, he’d been less focused, his mind clearly somewhere else. Something about his features just now made her feel like he was worried about something—maybe it was the crease between his eyes that hadn’t been there before, the smile that wasn’t his real smile… Something wasn’t right. If she hadn’t had Max with her, she might have tried to find out what was wrong, but she didn’t want to get into anything that might not be appropriate for little ears. Plus, to judge by the way he left, it was clear that Nick was quite busy. She found the outlets and jotted their locations on her sketchpad.

“Want to see the upstairs?” Abbey asked Max.

He slid off the bench and ran across the room to her. When he tried to come to a stop, his feet were not on the large rug, but on the slick floors surrounding it, and he slid across them until he bumped into his mother.

“See?” she giggled. “I told you that you could slide on the floors in your socks.”

As they walked through the entryway, Max continued to get a running start so that he could slide toward her, his laughter rising into the air all the way up to the second floor. It was good to see him feeling better. When he got close to her again, she felt his forehead. It was still a little warm, but it wasn’t nearly as hot as it had been.

When they got to the bedrooms, she checked that everything was there. It looked like most of the furniture had been delivered, but Richard had put one of the bedroom suites in the wrong room. She pulled out her cell and texted him using the number Nick had given her when she’d first arrived. It didn’t take Richard long to appear at the door to the bedroom.

“Everything looks great, Richard. Thank you so much for arranging to have it all assembled and put into the rooms.”

Max tugged on the hem of her shirt, and she put up her finger to ask him to wait his turn.

“Did I get it all right?” Richard asked.

“Nearly,” she smiled. “I’m going to need to switch this room with the one beside it. I’m so sorry, but is there any way I could get someone to help move it?”

“Mama, can I go downstairs and slide in the hallway again? I’ll come right back up.”

Abbey nodded, trying to keep her focus on Richard. It would be good for Max, give him something to do while she explained what needed to go where.

“No problem at all. With the snow coming down again, they’ll be able to help you right now. They’ve already shoveled the walk, and there isn’t a whole lot to do outside in these conditions.”

It didn’t take long before the men showed up, and they moved the furniture that she’d asked them to switch. As they’d disassembled the enormous beds and taken them piece by piece to the other rooms, Max had called up to her from downstairs, showing her how quickly he could slide. Whenever he wobbled, he’d bend his legs and slide on his knees. He was having so much fun, and it was working out because she could pull out the bags of things she’d bought for the rooms and begin to piece things together. The first bedroom was already the color she’d wanted, and she was keeping the crystal chandelier, so it was the easiest of the bedrooms. She spent all of her time arranging the furniture and putting the final touches on the room.

When everything was in place in the first room, she clicked on the lamp on the bedside table, giving the room a warm and cozy glow. The bottoms of both tables flanking the enormous bed were bookshelves that she’d filled with all her favorite books. She had candles lit on the dresser, the scent of vanilla filling the space, and a cozy throw across the bench at the foot of the bed. While she’d decorated for Nick, clearly this was a room suitable for a woman, and she wondered if his sister would like it. When Abbey had gotten the bedroom nearly decorated, she peeked over the railing to find Max.

“Max?” she called down quietly. He wasn’t down there. “Max?” she called again, padding down the steps, the enormous space completely silent. Had he gone looking for a bathroom or something? She walked into the ballroom, glancing from one end to the other. “Max?” No answer.

As she went in and out of rooms, she started to fear for him. Had he gotten himself lost in this big house? What if he’d gone outside and couldn’t get back in? Was he somewhere crying because she couldn’t hear him? How long had he been gone? Her heart pounded with every step she took. She checked the dining room—nothing. She went to the kitchen. No one there. Her hearing sharpened as she listened, willing herself to hear his voice. Then, she tipped her head to the side to try to make out the sound she heard. Was that Nick’s voice? She followed the faint sounds, listening, as her eyes darted in every room for Max. The talking got clearer until, to her mortification, she could hear Max’s voice. Was he in Nick’s office?

She bit her lip as the conversation became clear. Abbey stopped just outside the office, out of sight, and listened for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to apologize. She could hear the clicking of computer keys as Max talked.

“Is this where you do all your work?” Max asked.

“Mmm hmm.” More clicking of keys.

“What is your job?”

“I buy and sell companies.”

“What’s a company?”

More clicking. “It’s… a business.”

“Like those big buildings downtown?”

“Yep. Like those.”

“Did you know your floors are really good for sliding?”

Abbey heard a burst of laughter escape, and her heart did a leap. “Are they?” he said. The clicking continued, and she knew that she had to go in and relieve Nick. It was terribly unprofessional, and she had no idea how long Max had been there. Nick was probably getting nothing done. But she’d never heard Max talk to another man like he was talking to Nick. He seemed so interested, so chatty. He hadn’t been like that with any of the other men in her life, other than Gramps.