“Actually, we had almost twelve years. We were middle school sweethearts,” she added, in case that wasn’t obvious. She smiled at the photograph. “I did a lot of growing up in this house.”
“There you two are! Detroit’s almost done letting everyone down.” Belinda came strolling through the living room along with Todd Moreland, Fryberg’s general manager. “I promised Todd here some pie for the road.” When she saw he and Noelle were looking at her son’s photo, she smiled. “I always liked how happy he looked in that photo.”
“He was a real special kid,” Todd added. “The whole company liked him. We always figured we’d be working for him one day. No offense, Mr. Hammond.”
“None taken,” James replied stiffly. “Everyone has their preferences.” And it usually wasn’t him.
“Noelle was filling me in on some of the family history,” he said, turning to Belinda.
“You picked the right person for the job. She remembers more about the family history than I do at this point. In fact, she can tell you who those people in the portrait are. I forgot a long time ago.”
“Ned’s great-grandparents from Bamberg.”
“See what I mean?” The older woman tugged at her companion’s arm. “Come on, Todd. I’ll get you that pie.”
“So, keeper of the family history, huh?”
“Someone has to. Family’s important.”
“That, Mrs. Fryberg,” he said, shuffling back to the chairs, “depends upon the family.”
He shouldn’t have said the words out loud; they invited a conversation he didn’t want to have. Taking a seat, he steered the conversation back to her. “What about your family? Do you maintain your own history as diligently as your in-laws’?”
A shadow crossed her face. “Like you said,” she replied. “Depends upon the family.”
It appeared they had both dropped curious comments. In her case, she’d dropped two. Was it possible they had more in common than he’d thought?
Catching her gaze from across the space, he held it in his. Trying to tell her he understood. “What’s that old saying about families? You can’t live with them...you can’t take them out and bury them in the woods.”
“I don’t think those are the words.”
Her expression clouded again as she added, “Besides, you can’t bury something you don’t have.” The words came out low and hesitant. Her gaze broke from his and returned to the photographs on the mantel as though she was speaking more to them than James.
Normally when a woman made coy remarks, he ignored them, seeing how coy was nothing more than an attempt at attention. Something about Noelle’s remark, however, cut through him. There was weight to her words that spoke to a piece inside him.
Maybe that’s why he decided to ask. “You don’t have a family?”
Her sigh rattled signs in Chicago. “What the hell. Not like it’s a secret.
“I was raised by the state,” she said. “My mother left me in the town crèche on Christmas Eve and disappeared never to be heard of again.”
That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, he thought. Better that she disappear altogether than sell you a fantasy and then unceremoniously pop the bubble.
He stared at the crease in his new pants. No wonder her comment affected him the way it had.
The two of them had more in common than she realized.
“Anyway, I grew up in the foster system. The Frybergs were the first real family I ever had. If it weren’t for them, people would still be calling me the Manger Baby.”
“The what? Never mind.” He figured it out as soon as he asked. She said she’d been left in the crèche.
Something else dawned on him, as well. “Is that how you got your name? Because you were found at Christmas?”
Her cheeks turned crimson as she nodded. “Nothing like advertising your past, huh? I shudder to think what they’d have called me if I were a boy.”
“Trust me, I can imagine.”
They both chuckled. When they were finished, he sat back in his chair and took a fresh look at the woman he’d spent the last twenty-four hours with. “It suits you,” he said. “The name.”
He wasn’t surprised when she rolled her eyes. “So I’ve been told by half the town.”
“Half the town would be right.” There was a brightness about her that reminded him of a Christmas ornament. He could only imagine what she’d looked like as a kid. All eyes and luminosity.
No wonder Kevin Fryberg fell for her.
Knowing her story, a lot of things made sense now. Her loyalty. Her attachment to every tradition Ned Fryberg ever started.
He sat back in his chair. “You know, hearing all this, I’ve got to say I’m surprised Belinda sold to me when she had you around to take her place.”
The muscle on her jaw twitched. He’d clipped a nerve. “I said the same thing. I suggested she retire, and let Todd run the place while he groomed me to be his replacement, but she said this was the best move for the store. Hammond’s would give us the capital we needed to stay modern. Plus, she thought selling would give me more freedom to do other things. She didn’t want me to feel trapped in Fryberg because I was tied to the business.”
Interesting. Made sense. While Noelle professed loyalty now, she was also young, with a host of options in front of her. Better to sell the business while Belinda could control the deal. That’s what he would do. His father, as well. Hell, if James weren’t so good at making money, Jackson probably would have sold the store years ago—and not because he wanted his son to have freedom.
Still, he could hear the disappointment in Noelle’s answer. A part of her felt rejected. Cast aside. He knew that sting. It made him want to pull her into his arms for a hug, which was unsettling, since he didn’t do comfort. And even if he did, she would deny the feelings.
Meaning they shared another trait in common as well: neither liked to show weakness.
“Look on the bright side,” he said instead. “She could have fired you.”
“You don’t fire family.”
“Speak for yourself, sweetheart. Not everyone is as family oriented as you are. There are as many people on the other side of the line who value profits over DNA.”
She tilted her head. “I’m curious? Which side do you fall on?”
James didn’t even have to pause and think. His answer was that reflexive. “The side that doesn’t believe in family period.”
* * *
Noelle stared at him. Unbelievable. No sooner did she catch a spark of warmth, then his inner Grinch came along to snuff out the flame.
“You do know how ironic that statement sounds, coming from the heir of Hammond’s, right?”
Ask anyone in the industry and they’d tell you, Hammond’s Toy Stores was the epitome of old-fashioned family values. Their history put Fryberg’s hundred-year-old tradition to shame.
James’s lashes cast shadows on his cheeks as he studied the palm of his hand. “Things aren’t always what they seem,” he said.
“They aren’t? ’Cause I’ve studied Hammond’s.” And the last time she checked, Hammond’s sure looked like a fifteen-decades-old success story. The Boston store dwelled in the same building where Benjamin Hammond originally opened it. Over the decades, the store had become a touchstone for people looking to recapture childhood innocence. Their window displays and decor was like walking into a magical piece of frozen history. And at Christmastime...
Noelle had seen the photos. It was the Christmas Castle, Santa’s workshop and Rockefeller Center all rolled into one. “There’s too much heart in your branding for it to have been pulled from a hat.”
His reply was somewhere between a cough and a snort. “I’ll let the marketing department know you appreciate their efforts. They put a great deal of effort into creating that �
��heart.’”
She could feel the air quotations. There were exclamation points on the sarcasm.
“I hate to break it to you,” he said, “but my family has made a small fortune selling a fantasy.”
“For one hundred and fifty years? I don’t think any company can fake their corporate culture for that long.”
“Maybe once, a long time ago, someone believed in it,” he said in a softer voice. “My grandfather or someone like that.”
His fingers traced the plaid pattern on the chair arm. “Who knows? Maybe back then, life was different. But holidays are all manufactured now. There’s no such thing as a ‘family Christmas’ except on TV. Divorce, dysfunction... Most of the world’s just trying to get through the day without killing each other.”
Noelle didn’t know what to say. She couldn’t call him on his sarcasm, because he wasn’t being sarcastic. He delivered his words in a flat, distant voice tinged with hopelessness. It took squeezing her fists by her sides to keep from hugging him. What was it he had said about glass tumblers?
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“For what?”
Good question. She wasn’t sure herself. “That you don’t like Christmas.”
Hammond shrugged before returning to his pattern tracing. “Don’t have to like it to make money off it,” he said.
“No,” she said, “I don’t suppose you do.” And Hammond did make money. Lots of money. So, he was right. Who cared if he liked Christmas or not?
Except that the notion left her incredibly sad. Noelle didn’t know if it was the cynicism of his words or something else, but this entire conversation left a pang in her stomach. She couldn’t look at Hammond without wanting to perch on his chair and press him close.
To chase away his sadness. Talk about silly. Twenty-four hours ago she disliked the man and now here she was thinking about hugging him? As though a hug from her would solve the problem anyway. She didn’t even know if he was sad, for crying out loud. Imagine what he would think if she suddenly nestled up against that hard torso.
That she was crazy, no doubt.
Still, possible personal demons aside, she wondered how long it would take before Hammond’s cynicism bit him in the behind? She didn’t care how good a marketing team he had, a store that didn’t believe in its own brand couldn’t last. Sooner or later the phoniness, as he put it, would seep through.
You can only bury the truth of your feelings for so long before the truth wins out.
The corner of her gaze caught the photo on the edge of the mantel. Noelle turned her head.
And thought of Fryberg’s. Without sincerity at the helm, the castle would truly become a cheesy tourist destination. Wouldn’t take long after that for Hammond to close the store down, in favor of his giant shipping warehouse. The store was on borrowed time as it was. His cynicism shortened the timetable.
“Bet if you spent time here, you wouldn’t be so negative.”
“Excuse me?”
Oh, jeez. She’d spoken out loud, hadn’t she? The point had merit though. “The magic of the place has a way of growing on you,” she said.
“Is that so?”
Interesting that he hadn’t said no. “Yeah, it’s so. Do you think this cottage industry of a town sprang up because people wanted to live in Bavaria again?”
Her question made Hammond chuckle. “The thought crossed my mind.”
It crossed a lot of people’s. “The people here love the holidays. You want to see the Christmas spirit you need to see tomorrow’s Christmas season kickoff. It’ll convert the most frozen of hearts into holiday fans.”
A light flickered in his eyes, along with an emotion Noelle couldn’t quite recognize, but made her pulse quicken nonetheless. “Are you asking me to stick around, Mrs. Fryberg?”
“No. I mean, yes. Sort of.” Articulating herself would be easier if he weren’t chuckling. “So you could see how we do Christmas, is all.”
“I’ve seen how you do Christmas. Part of the celebration struck me in the head yesterday, remember?”
“I meant how the town did Christmas. I thought, if you spent time with people who enjoy celebrating Christmas, it might make you less cynical.”
“I see. Worried my cynicism will kill the Christmas Castle sooner rather than later?”
In a word? “Yes,” she replied. Wasn’t he already turning things upside down in the name of efficiency?
Damn if he didn’t chuckle again. A throaty rumble that slid under a person’s skin and brushed across her nerve endings. The sound left goose bumps on Noelle’s skin. “No offense to your Christmas magic,” he said, “but I highly doubt a few gingerbread cookies and a tree lighting will make me less cynical.”
He had a point. She probably was giving the magic too much credit. “Once a Grinch, always a Grinch. Is that what you’re saying?”
“Precisely. I always thought he was misunderstood.”
“As misunderstood as a man with a tiny heart could be,” Noelle replied.
This time, instead of chuckling, Hammond let out a full-on laugh. “I wasn’t trying to be funny,” she said when he finished.
“I know. I was laughing at how easily you’re abrupt with me. It’s so damn refreshing.”
So he’d said this morning. “I’m not trying to be,” she told him. “The words keep popping out before I have a chance to mentally edit.”
“Making it all the more refreshing, knowing it’s organic.” He settled back in his chair and assessed her with, based on the tingling running up her arm, what had to be the longest look in the world.
“You know, I have half a mind to bring you along when I fly out of here so you could follow me around and make snarky comments.”
“Excu—”
“Don’t worry, I’m kidding.” He wiped the words away with a wave of his hand. “I have no desire to move you from Fryberg. Yet.”
Noelle let out her breath.
“What’s this about flying to Boston?” Todd asked. He and Belinda came around the corner from the kitchen. The general manager had on his coat and carried a plastic bag filled with Tupperware.
“You’re not planning to fly back tonight are you, Jim? They showed Foxborough on TV and the rain looks miserable there.”
Partially hidden behind the chair wings, Hammond winced at the nickname, leaving Noelle to fight back a smirk. If there was anyone who looked more unlike a Jim...
“I’ve flown in rain before,” he said. “I doubt it’ll be a problem.”
“If you say so. All I can say is better you than me. That wind was blowing so strong the rain was sideways. Won’t be much of a passing game, that’s for sure.”
“How strong is this wind?” Hammond asked, swiveling around to face the man. Noelle noticed he already had his phone in his hand. Checking the forecast, probably.
“No clue. They didn’t say.”
“Maybe you should stay like you planned,” Belinda replied. “I would hate for you to be bounced around during a storm and hit your head again.”
“I’m sure I’ll be fine. We fly above the weather.”
“What about you?” he asked Noelle, once the others had departed. “You want to ask me to stay again too?”
The sparkle in his eye caused a rash of awareness to break out along her skin. “I didn’t ask you to stay. I suggested staying for tomorrow’s Christmas Kickoff might change your mind about the holiday. There’s a difference.” One of semantics maybe, but she clung to the argument anyway. “Besides, you made it quite clear this morning that you make your own decisions. If you want to risk flying in the wind, that’s your business.”
She fought back a frown. That last sentence sounded a little passive-aggressive. It was his business and she didn’t care—not that much anyway.
“You’re right. It is my business,” he replied.
Noelle watched as he tapped the keys on his phone and pulled up the Boston weather. An odd feeling had gripped her stomach. A cross between nervousness and disappointment. Something about Hammond had her emotions skittering all over the place. One minute she detested him, the next she felt a kinship. The man had turned her into a collection of extremes. It wasn’t like her, being this mass of shifting energy.
Rather than continue staring, she turned to the pictures on the mantel. Kevin smiled at her from the Humvee and her insides settled a little. Good old Kevin who she’d loved for nearly fifteen years.
Loved like a brother.
No sooner did the thought rise than she stuffed it back down. How she felt about Kevin was her secret and hers alone. No one need ever know the truth.
Besides, she had loved him. He was her best friend. Her shoulder. Her rock. He’d given her so much. A home. A family. When she became his girl, her world went from being cold to one full of love and meaning. Kevin turned her into someone special. Wasn’t his fault she couldn’t feel the passion toward him that he deserved.
“Looks like you got your wish.” Hammond’s voice sounded above her ear. Startled, Noelle stepped back only to have her shoulders bump against his muscled chest, causing her to start again.
“What wish?” she managed to say as she turned around.
“Todd was right. There’s a high-wind warning up and down the New England coast. Logan’s backed up until the nor’easter moves on.”
“What does that mean?” she asked. Focused on putting distance between their bodies, the significance of his words failed to register.
“It means...” He reached out and cupped a hand on the curve of her neck. His thumb brushed the underside of her jaw, forcing her to look him in the eye. The sparkle she saw in his left her with goose bumps.
“It means,” he repeated, “that you’re stuck with me another day.”
It was the perfect time for a sarcastic remark. Unfortunately, Noelle was too distracted by the fluttering in her stomach to think of one. The idea of his continuing to stay around didn’t upset her nearly as much as it had yesterday.
Christmas with Her Millionaire Boss Page 6