by Nancy Fraser
Rick and his father both sat on the floor, with Millie between them. An antique train, complete with inter-connected track hummed loudly, waiting for engineer Millie to press the red button.
“Momma, I’m going to drive the train myself. Mr. Bob said I could.”
“Is that so?” she responded, taking a seat on a nearby bench. “You don’t have a license to drive do you?”
Millie shook her head and released one of her overly-dramatic sighs. “It’s only a toy train, Momma, not a real one.” Meeting her mother’s gaze head on, Millie pushed the button with as much force as she could, sending the painted engine on its way.
The train chugged slowly around the forty feet of track.
Rick lifted himself from the floor and came to stand at her side. “Dad gave Millie the honor of adding this year’s new piece to the collection.” He nodded toward the brightly lit overpass. “We’ve named it Mill Crossing.”
“That’s almost my name,” Millie put in quickly before returning her attention her engineer duties.
Rick chuckled. “Yes, Millie, I guess it is.” He met Cassidy’s gaze and winked. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“Mr. Bob,” Millie said suddenly, turning to Rick’s father. “Is this the only place the train goes?”
“Yes, it is,” William Barrett confirmed. “This is Track’s Village, where our train Tommie Tracks spends all his time.”
Millie shook her head and shrugged. “Maybe Tommie wants to go somewhere else. I know I’d go crazy if I had to stay in my bedroom all the time.”
Cass supressed her urge to coax Millie into silence when both Barrett men exchanged glances.
“Millie, where would you send Tommie to visit if you could?” Rick asked.
Millie’s smile lit up. “I’d send him to Disneyworld. Or maybe to the zoo to see the monkeys.”
“Tommie Tracks goes to the zoo,” the elder Barrett commented. “I like it.”
RICK TOOK A SEAT ON the bench at Cassidy’s side, enjoying—as she seemed to be—the sight of Millie and his father taking turns sending Tommie Tracks around the village and under the new Mill Crossing overpass.
“He’s got a playmate,” Rick commented, his voice a mere whisper at Cassidy’s ear. “Like I said the other day, my dad’s a big kid at heart, and having Millie here is just what he needs.”
“The holiday must be rough with your mother gone,” Cass suggested. “I know it’s not been that long.”
“This is the first Christmas and one of the reasons, over and above Wil-Bar, that I felt the need to come home.”
Cassidy spared a quick glance in the direction of the party setup, and he realized the time was passing quickly. He still had one more area to show Millie and he’d saved the best for last.
“Millie,” he said, drawing her semi-undivided attention. “I’ve got something else to show you before we go to the party.” He held out his hand, and Millie laid her softer, smaller hand in his, and he pulled her to her feet. Rick’s heart clenched tightly in his chest; his reaction driven by a young girl’s absolute trust.
“Here’s your engine driver hat, Mr. B,” she said, handing the blue and white stripped cap to his dad.
“You keep it, Millie,” William instructed. “I’ve got another.”
Millie beamed a smile in his dad’s direction, and then asked Rick, “What’s next?”
“I thought we’d go look at some dolls,” Rick told her. “Assuming you like dolls, of course.”
“I love dolls,” Millie admitted. “I have a doll house, you know. It’s big. Momma says pretty soon I’ll have to sleep in a tent in the kitchen because my doll house is growing faster than me.” She leaned closer and whispered, “I don’t think so cause I’m getting taller every day.”
From behind them, Rick caught the muffled sound of Cassidy’s laughter.
He led the way into the Holiday Princess showroom, where all the dolls from the past twenty years were displayed in a glass case. The current year’s model sat centerstage on a golden pedestal.
“This is Rebecca,” he said, lifting the doll from its place of honor. “She’s this year’s Princess collectible.” He handed the doll to Millie.
She turned the doll over in her hands, inspecting it from all angles and then handed it back. “She’s nice,” Millie said, with far less enthusiasm than he was expecting.
“Just nice?” he asked.
Millie toyed with her own long, chestnut curls, and admitted, “She’s pretty but she has yellow hair. I like dolls with brown hair, like mine.”
Rick hunkered down in front of her. “I can understand that. Perhaps next year, we can do something about it.”
“Where are her playmates?” Millie asked.
“Playmates?” he asked.
“She seems lonely. Does she have a sister? A mom or a dad?”
“No,” he admitted. “She’s a princess.”
Millie sighed. “Even a princess needs a family.” She spared a glance in her mother’s direction, and added, “Momma and me are a family, and we have Miss Frances.” She raised her head, her huge brown gaze meeting his. “And now we have you sometimes too. It’s like a family.”
For the first time in a long time, Rick fought back the threat of tears. To his right, Cassidy pursed her lips and appeared to be fighting the same battle.
“Family is definitely important,” he agreed. “Perhaps it’s time we change Wil-Bar’s long-standing tradition and give our princess a family.”
“And a prince,” Millie said quickly. “Every princess deserves her own Prince Charming.”
Rick glanced quickly in Cassidy’s direction and then turned back to Millie. “That she does, Millie, that she does.”
CASSIDY STOOD OFF TO the side, pleased with the results of the Wil-Bar holiday party. Over sixty employees filled the warehouse floor, exchanging stories, laughter, and marveling over the gift cards, ornaments, and door prizes. Her attention on where Trevor was refilling the chafing dishes on the buffet table, it was a moment or two before she realized she had company.
“Miss Kean,” the woman said. “I don’t know if you remember me or not. I’m Margaret, Mr. Barrett’s private secretary.”
Cassidy turned her attention to the older woman, an obvious throwback to a time before the term ‘administrative assistant’ became the politically correct title. “Yes, of course I remember you.”
“I’m sorry about dismissing you so easily the day you came to our office,” Margaret confessed.
“I’m not,” Cass admitted. “If you hadn’t, I might not have met Rick...Mr. Barrett...and all this wouldn’t have happened.”
Margaret’s gaze narrowed, and she nodded toward where Rick was helping Millie create the perfect ice cream concoction. “I’m thinking you got far more than a party booking from that first meeting.”
Cass wasn’t sure how to take the woman’s comment and thought perhaps she should clarify. “I...we—”
A wave of Margaret’s hand interrupted her. “No need to explain, my dear. I’ve never seen Richard so happy, so unlike himself. You’ve definitely brought light into his life.”
“Light?”
“I’ve known Richard since he was a young boy. He is his mother’s son, all serious and smart as a whip. He never really took to the family business the way his father did. I wasn’t the least bit surprised when he didn’t come back to Dickens after college.”
“He never came back at all?” Cass asked, eager to fill in her knowledge gap on Rick’s life.
“Oh, for a vacation, sure. He never stayed longer than a week or two before heading back to New York and his tech company.”
The idea of Rick returning to New York permanently made her heart ache. “I suppose he’ll be going back again when the holiday rush is over.”
Margaret shook her head. “I don’t think so, not this time.”
Cassidy’s heart did another little flip inside her chest. “I hope not,” she said honestly. “I know his father likes hav
ing him around. You can see it in the way they are together.”
“I know Mr. Barrett would love it if Richard took over the reins of the business full time, not just as the interim CEO. Ever since—”
Whatever Margaret had been about to say halted mid-sentence when Rick and Millie came to join them.
“Whatever Margaret is telling you about me is likely an exaggeration,” he claimed.
“Really?” Cass teased. “But she was saying such nice things. It’s a pity they might not—”
“In that case,” he came back quickly, “they were all true.”
“Look, Momma, Mr. Rick helped me make a banana split.”
Cass narrowed her gaze on Rick and gave him a mocking frown. “So, I see. Hopefully, he’ll also be the one to chase you around when the sugar kicks in.” She reached for the bowl overladen with ice cream and sticky sauce. “How about I divide this up and give just enough to satisfy your sweet tooth?”
“Okay,” Millie said, a bit grudgingly, “just don’t take away any of the marshmallow sauce. That’s my new favorite.”
“The party’s starting to wind down. I should get back to the others,” Margaret said in an effort to excuse herself.
Rick nodded, his gaze scanning the width of the cavernous room. “Before he leaves for the holiday, could you tell Ted Gibson I’d like to speak to him for a few minutes?”
“Certainly. Shall I have him meet you here, or in your office?” Margaret asked.
“My office. And, please let my father know we’re meeting.” Turning to Cass, he said, “I’ll be done before your crew is packed and ready to go. Please don’t leave until I get back.”
“No worries,” she told him. “This is my last event until New Year’s Eve. I’m in no rush.”
Chapter 9
RICK PERCHED HIMSELF on the corner of the desk, huddled between his father and Wil-Bar’s head of toy production, Ted Gibson.
“What do you think, Ted?” William asked.
Ted, a sixty-three-year-old grandfather of seven nodded his head and grinned. “What I think is we wasted good money on that market research group last spring, and all their big advice about automating our toys. We should have just brought the kindergarten class from Dickens’ Elementary through here on a tour.”
Rick nodded, matching Ted’s broad smile. “Out of the mouths of babes, gentlemen.”
“We’ll need to retool the machines of course,” Ted continued. “And choose some new color pallets but there’s no reason we can’t get the first phase up and running in time for Easter, and then add on throughout the year.”
“Tommy Tracks helps the Easter Bunny,” William said, a long, satisfied sigh escaping him as he sat back in the leather side chair.
“And my other, more pressing request?” Rick asked.
“Given the very generous holiday bonus I received earlier today,” Ted said, “I’d be hard pressed to refuse a couple of hours of extra time here in the shop.” He pushed himself to his feet, no doubt eager to get to work. “Besides, the daughter, son-in-law, and four grandkids arrived last night. That’s twelve people in our three-bedroom bungalow. I’m more than happy to give them some space.”
“Thank you,” Rick repeated, for the third or fourth time since they came into the office.
“No worries,” Ted said, his hand already on the doorknob on his way out. “You know, this is going to turn that one special item into a valuable collectible.”
Rick’s grin spread across his face. “Not nearly as valuable as the little princess who’s receiving it.”
After Ted left to alter a single holiday doll, Rick turned back to his dad. “I’ve got a good feeling about these ideas for the future of Wil-Bar Toys.”
“Good enough to make you stick around? Or, has a certain young woman and her adorable child already taken care of that?”
“It’s certainly a possibility,” Rick confirmed. “Now, on to the next part of my holiday plan. Let’s take a trip down to the vault.”
William withdrew the keychain from his vest pocket, and asked, “Are you sure you want me to be the one who gives these away? Why not you?”
“Oh, if my plan goes the way I want it, my gifts will be even better.”
His dad’s eyebrows arched in surprise. “Really? Now I’m truly intrigued.”
By the time he made it back to the main warehouse, Cassidy and her efficient crew of high school students had everything packed up and ready to go.
“I could have our delivery truck take this for you,” he said, wondering how everything was going to fit in Cassidy’s car.
“It’s okay. We got everything here. We’ll get it all back home.”
“I could help you unpack at your place,” he suggested.
“I’d like that,” she admitted.
The three teens started off with the two foldable dollies while Cassidy gave the empty space the once over.
“Can we go now, Momma?” Millie asked.
“Yes, we can. Rick is going to follow us home to help unpack the car.”
“We can show him our tree, and he can see my dollhouse and meet Bennie?” Millie’s words poured out at lightning speed.
“That sounds great!” Rick confirmed. “Let me go give your crew a hand while you get Millie into her coat and boots.”
Not waiting for her agreement, he slid into his jacket and jogged out the door, catching up with Kenzie and the two boys just as they were attempting to close Cassidy’s trunk.
“Wait up a minute,” he called out. “I know Cassidy’s told you time and again how much she appreciates all your hard work over the past few months. I wanted to give you kids an extra Christmas bonus.” He glanced back over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t overheard. “Just between us. Okay?” Rick handed them each an envelope.
“Are you sure?” Trevor asked. “I mean, Miss K pays us really well.”
“I’m sure. Now, get out of here and have a great Christmas.”
The three had just pulled out of the parking lot when Cassidy and Millie appeared at his side. “They’re gone already?” she asked.
“Yeah, I hope you don’t mind. I told them to go ahead, that I was going to do your unloading. I figured they could get an early start on their holiday.”
“Thank you. I know they probably appreciate not having to lug boxes up my apartment stairs.”
Rick rolled his eyes and pulled an exaggerated grimace. “I totally forgot about the stairs.”
Millie tugged on his hand, dragging him away from the trunk. “It’s okay, Mr. Rick, I’ll help too.”
CASS HELD THE DOOR for Rick while he brought the final storage bin into the building. “That’s the last of it,” he confirmed. “I still don’t know where you’ll put everything in your small apartment.”
“I have a surprisingly large storage room. As a matter of fact, I’m pretty sure it’s bigger than my bedroom.” She led the way down the hall, opened the storeroom door, and motioned him inside. “See. Huge, and it has shelves.”
He set the box down and then spun around to face her. “Having never seen your bedroom, I’ve nothing for comparison.”
She gave a quick lift of her shoulders. “If you play your cards right...” Her words stalled when Rick took a light hold on her wrist and drew her back into the room and into his arms.
Reaching out behind her, he flicked off the light switch, leaving them bathed in the subdued light coming for the narrow hallway. When he lowered his head, and fit his mouth to hers, she melted into his embrace and eagerly returned his kiss.
“That,” he whispered against her lips, “was long overdue.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
He pressed a kiss to her cheek and dusted her throat with his fingertips. “I think we should do that again.”
Cass was about to agree when they were interrupted by Millie’s call from the living room. “Did you two get lost or something? I want to show Mr. Rick our tree.”
Cass let out a sigh of frustration. �
�Yes, dear. We’re coming.”
Rick slid his jacket off and hung it on the back of the kitchen chair. “Be right there, Millie,” he called out.
They’d just taken their seats when Millie began, “See all the ornaments. Momma gets a new one every year. Not this year though.”
“No?” he asked. “Why not?”
“Because I was so busy with work, I never made it back to Trim-A-Tree.”
Millie nodded in confirmation. “That means this year it’s my turn to put something on the tree. My beautiful fairy will be our special ornament.”
IT WAS NEARLY MIDNIGHT when Rick raised his head from another perfect kiss, and told Cass, “I’ve got to go.”
She pressed her lips to the side of his throat and whispered, “Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure. If I stay, we may end up taking those measurements of your bedroom. I’m not ready for Millie to find me in bed with her mother.”
“I’m not sure I can wait another day to see you again,” she admitted. “I know you said you have family commitments tomorrow, but I was hoping we could do something together on Christmas Eve.”
“It’s been a Barrett family tradition for over thirty years,” he explained. “My grandparents started it years ago, then my parents took over, and I began chipping in when mom got sick.”
Rick pushed himself off the couch and held out his hand, drawing her to his side.
“I’m still a bit fuzzy on what this tradition is, exactly,” she pointed out.
“My dad and I spend the day cooking, cleaning, and basically waiting on our house staff and their families, beginning with a breakfast of my Eggs Benedict and ending with an early dinner including my father’s roast goose.”
“Somehow I can’t imagine you washing dishes,” she said, her smothered laugh coming through.
“I’ll have you know I can load a dishwasher just as well as anyone.” He paused, adding. “And I think I have adding the soap and turning it on figured out, too. Maybe.”
“Will you be doing the cooking and cleaning on Christmas as well, or will that be mine and Frances’ job?”