Christmas Kisses: An Echo Ridge Anthology (Echo Ridge Romance Book 1)

by Lucy McConnell

  “If you’re not worried about cholesterol, their fried chicken is the best. On the fresher side, their club on homemade bread is fabulous.” Keira looked up to find him staring at her then quickly glance at the menu.

  A waitress with faded blonde hair and wearing hospital white sneakers came to take their order— two clubs and lemonades. After she left, Tayton cleared his throat.

  “I thought we could get on the same page personally, work the details of the promotion plan, that kind of thing. Timing will be tight so we need to get a jump on a few venues.”

  Keira had prepared herself on the drive down and pulled out her work folder and notepad. “Not to be rude, but in the interest of time, why don’t we just hit the basics— I’m Keira, you’re Tayton, we both want the store to succeed— and get down to the nuts and bolts. Is that alright?”

  He stared and then nodded. “You bet.”

  Keira glanced at her notes. “So Cecilia hired you for the Christmas season, and to do what exactly, if you don’t mind my asking?” She could hear a slight edge in her voice and told herself to settle down. Dad had always seen her as the Shirley Temple of the store, not necessarily capable of dealing with the financial issues or the backend. Not that the logistics had been a huge issue, only the trust. Keira had been happy to help out in various departments, finding a fit in marketing and promotion. That was until dad began making questionable store decisions, ones that didn’t involve her. Keira mentally cleared her mind. This wasn’t the time and it wasn’t Tayton’s fault.

  Tayton sat back in the seat without a worry. “First goal— save the store from bankruptcy. Second goal, get people in the store— money people. If my research is right, most of the money comes off the freeway, drives straight through town and onto Parley’s Way. We need to capture them now as they come in, something big and local, like a Martha Stewart at the Hamptons event. Something they can tweet about.”

  Keira refrained from shaking her head. Martha Stewart. In Echo Ridge?

  He sat forward. “Third goal, up the store’s immediate revenue by a hefty percentage with local reach then expand outside of Echo Ridge. That means social media. Entice them here. Make it worth the drive for Christmas shopping.”

  “Social media, in Echo Ridge? A third of the people don’t even know what that is.”

  “Here, but that’s not our focus. We need to think bigger.”

  Keira leaned forward. “I disagree. I think we need to think smaller. As in, connection. We need to connect people to the store. Regenerate the loyalty, and not just for the goods they can buy but for a meaningful purpose.”

  “Like the Hope Tree?”

  Keira stared. “That’s right. Each tag represents someone in our community in need, thanks to the Ladies League who run it. The Ice Money, the middle ground, the trailer park, everyone can contribute and connect. Then we can spotlight those acts of service and lead them back to the store so they know we’re here to help, to stay. They can count on us.”

  “And buy the gift at the store.” He shrugged. “I get what you’re saying. But that approach doesn’t get the bigger numbers. It’s reach. I’ve been hired to get results. Cecilia’s made a few suggestions that weren’t suggestions and I can’t argue with the analytics that it’s worked in bursts. She wants to duplicate it on a bigger scale.”

  “But things change. We’re poised to tap into that community desire and need to help each other, especially since the coal mine closed several years back. And another Buster Barn chain store went under.”

  The waitress arrived with their sandwiches, breaking the rising tension. Tayton frowned, careful in his words. “Look, I don’t make the decisions, I’m just the head on the platter that needs to carry them out. We’ve got a lot of work to do and in a short amount of time.”

  Keira watched him salt the fries next to his sandwich, having lost her appetite. How could he sit there, glib and unfeeling, when not just the store but the town was at a crossroads? How could she help him see what her words weren’t communicating? Words from her dad came to mind: when you’re at an impasse, find the compromise. There’s always one.

  She took a deep breath, surprised he hadn’t started eating yet. “What if we did an experiment this week? For example, we’ve already contracted with local channels to run ads. We could connect the Hope Tree with the town, highlighting the good we’re doing with giving gifts.”

  He nodded again then a light went on. “We could interview some of the recipients of Hope Tree gifts and get them on camera.”

  On camera? Gift-giving was to be private. “I don’t think—”

  “Actually, that’s a bit of genius there. The heartwarming stories are a big push this time of year. How soon are you delivering more gifts?”

  Keira sensed her snowball of an idea rolling headfirst down the snowy mountainside of disaster. “Tomorrow. But we’re going to Maple Haven Homes— the trailer park. I think that would feel exploitive.”

  He rubbed his jaw, a slight dark stubble starting around his firm jawline. “Not at all, it’s all in how we film and edit it, and I can edit. No worries. Those kinds of feeling-based spots can really draw. I think I get what you were saying now.”

  And there goes disaster picking up speed. No, he didn’t get what she said at all. He was going to put little kids and haggard drug moms on camera and try to make the community feel good about it.

  Stay. Calm.

  She smiled kindly. “Instead, I thought we could show you the town and meet some of the employees at Kenworth’s.”

  “Already toured the town and the store this afternoon.” Tayton picked up a fry, with a questioning glance to see if she minded. He almost seemed energized by the discussion. “I stopped at the Ladies League Community Center— they were pulling out crates and crafts for a bake sale thing?”

  “The yearly bazaar. It’s kind of a big deal.” And it was. The community could count on a solid local turn out from the ritual event of baked goods, handmade clothing items, jewelry and more. The Ladies League prepared for months.

  “I see.” Again, he stared at her, or her hair it seemed. Then caught himself and grabbed another fry. “And I checked on possible for-hire help with media needs, which is a must. Not too many online experts here so far.”

  She gave a wry smile. “I think you’re right there. Except for maybe the high school kids, like Savvy Trav.”

  His eyebrows went up. “Who?”

  She smiled. “Travis Coleman. Best kid hacker in ten years. Changed all his friends grades for three semesters running before he was caught. He’s into social media, software, video gaming, anything that involves his fingers twitching over keys.”

  Tayton took her in, a smile at the corner of his nicely formed mouth. “He could be just the man I need at a price we can afford. Know how to get in touch with him?”

  “Sure.” She pulled out her phone— Travis’s mom was also heading up the bazaar committee. Writing the number on the napkin, she passed it to Tayton, grazing his fingers in the process. Nice hands. And surprisingly strong and masculine for a marketing guy. What did he do on the weekends?

  Keira flushed, realizing he spoke to her. “Excuse me, yes?”

  He hid a hint of a smile. “I said that you’ve got some great ideas already. I wasn’t sure, coming up here that you would be so forward thinking. Any other thoughts?”

  You mean, that you haven’t shot down, and that only resonate with what you’re thinking is the best plan? “Maybe. You mentioned events…what about some kind of new Christmas tradition, something that feels nostalgic but is purposeful and helping the community?”

  “Yes, but even bigger. Something to pull in the tourists.”

  “At Kenworth’s?”

  “We have to relate it back to the store. But we need something upscale, unique, something worth stopping for.”

  Keira sat back in despair. They were getting nowhere. He wasn’t hearing a word she said. Worth stopping for? To Ice Money, Echo Ridge hadn’t a single t
hing as far as they were concerned. And who was going to drive 30 minutes in snow from other cities to attend…what?

  “I don’t think that’s the best focus for money or energy.”

  “That’s what the analytics say, and facts don’t lie.”

  “People don’t fit in analytics. And people matter.” She leaned forward. “And they are the ones who pay for the product.”

  “You’re right, that’s why I think we need to beef up online ordering.” He went to speak then shook his head. “Look, there’s a lot of work to be done.” He glanced at his meal and hers again, waiting. “I know your time tonight is limited but maybe we could talk tomorrow on the way to deliver gifts. I want to make a few phone calls on some of these ideas…aren’t you hungry?”

  “I’m sorry, not really.” Keira could see that her help wasn’t really needed. He had a plan in his mind and wasn’t going to hear hers. She would have to come up with a more creative approach to be heard. Again. Well, she had a few days. If he was going to come with her to deliver gifts, maybe he would see the connection she was talking about.

  She reached for her purse to pay for dinner but Tayton held out his hand in a stop motion. “I’ve got the tab.” She raised her eyebrows. “It’s on a business account, don’t worry.”

  Cecilia gave him a business account but couldn’t give her $200 for a newspaper ad? She smiled courteously as she exited the booth. “Thank you for meeting, it’s been…enlightening. I really do need to run to Kenworth’s before the lighting ceremony.”

  He stood when she stood. That was unexpected. And mannerly.

  “Thanks, Keira. I’m sure this is hard in a lot of ways, with your personal ties to the store. I appreciate your ideas. My entire focus is helping Kenworth’s get back on its feet. No worries.”

  Uh huh, no worries. She was starting to hate that phrase. “Talk to you later.” Walking out of the diner, Chip saluted her with a spatula, and a wriggle of the eyebrows with a glance at Tayton suggesting something may be up.

  Keira rolled her eyes, away from Tayton’s view but enough to tell Chip, not a chance. Less than a chance. For all purposes, he was a Cecilia minion. She had a job to do and that was to show Tayton the heart of Christmas, right here in town, and then create an event that would capture the feeling, not exploit it. Whatever it was, she had about 12 hours to figure it out.

  The dark evening sky set off the roaring bonfire near the city center plaza. About a hundred or more people mingled, sat on wooden benches, or sang impromptu Christmas carols with the junior high choir group. In the center stood the twenty-foot tall Christmas tree, the town’s signature monument during December.

  After the mayor’s welcome and a few quick items, Keira made an impassioned speech for the Hope Tree and encouraged their donations at Kenworth’s. She shared some of the meaningful outcomes already, including at the Life House, a domestic violence and crisis center on the edge of town. The local tavern owner of Shenanigans shook hands and provided a check, an ironic but helpful gesture.

  After she cut the red ribbon, the lights of the towering tree turned on, shining like a flashlight in the inky dark. By tradition, the tree remained with only lights and a star at the top. During the coming weeks, ornaments and decorations were donated by townspeople, the school kids, and local stores to make it a community effort.

  After the applause, Keira directed the crowd to the banquet tables set up for hot cocoa and Martha Jean’s apple cider donuts. A deep voice from behind startled her.

  “Hungry now?” Tayton stood close to her, very close. As she whirled to face him she hit the cocoa cup in his hand. Brown frothy cocoa ran down his Kenneth Cole suit jacket.

  “Oh goodness, sorry about that.” Keira felt the pink cheek spots spread on her face. He smiled, donuts in one hand, cocoa in the other. She reached in her pocket for a Kleenex packet to wipe him down. After a few strokes of soaking up the cocoa on his well-formed chest, she blushed harder. What was she doing?

  “Here, um, let me take the cup and you can…here’s a tissue…that might work better.”

  Tayton fought a slight grin and handed her a donut. “No harm, no foul. Here’s the goods before they end up in the snow.” He reached for a black takeout box. “You forgot your sandwich. You must be starving by now, unless you’re a green smoothie kind of gal.”

  Gal. That was sweet, and thoughtful, even if it was just to butter her up to be another Cecilia minion. “Actually, yes, now that you mention it. Thanks for bringing it.” Her stomach rumbled as if in agreement.

  Tayton hesitated then gestured toward a setback bench. “You’ve had a long day, but I had a few thoughts if you have a minute.”

  While Tayton stopped to grab a few more donuts and cocoa, Keira sat down on the bench. They sat in surprising comfortable silence, eating and taking in the friendly chatter of townspeople and festive twinkling tree lights.

  Keira focused on her sandwich but couldn’t deny he smelled good. Very, very good. A man-scent mixed with Tommy Hilfiger, his thigh-hugging jeans, and form-fitting casual suit jacket. Like a Christmas ad.

  He leaned forward, elbows resting on muscular thighs. “Great speech, by the way. When I saw the people here— from the tavern to the upper middle class— I could see what you were talking about, connecting the town.” He looked down at his hands holding the cocoa cup. “I’m thinking on it. I’m really trying to get what you’re wanting with the heart angle. And trying to make the numbers. But in between, that doesn’t mean we’re not on the same team.”

  He held up his cocoa cup. “Truce?”

  She held hers and smiled. “Truce.”

  After a pause, he checked his watch. “What time is the cameraman ready tomorrow morning?”

  A small cringe lodged in her stomach. It was going fantastically, then this. Did they still have to go through with this charade? What was supposed to be tender and kind would now be exploitive and promotional.

  “Erik and I will be ready at the store at 9:30.”

  “Great. We can all ride together if that’s easier.”

  “I suppose… sure, that will work.”

  Keira stood and resumed a professional mode, thanking him for bringing the takeout box and for the donuts. She held out her hand, which he shook, holding on for an extra moment.

  “You’re freezing. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”

  Keira stared at her hand like a foreign object. A sudden soft whoosh shot up her hand and arm. Just the cold— had to be. Everything was fine. “No…I’m good…I’m…was born that way. Cold even in summer, really, not a problem. Okay then, see you tomorrow, Tayton.”

  Hurrying toward her waiting Honda, Keira instinctively knew he still watched her. And it didn’t bother her like it should.

  KEIRA MADE A PIT STOP at the Candy Counter before waiting out front to deliver gifts. Reese was restocking her display case and Kiera knew from personal experience that this was the best time of day to stop by.

  “Hey there.” Reese placed the see-through drawer back in the display case. “How are things in the office?” She offered Keira one of the usual no-sale damaged chocolates.

  “Don’t ask.” Kiera bit the chocolate in half. Lemon. So. Good. “There’s a new-hire in town. Again. And I have no voice in the store’s marketing approach. Again.”

  “Do you mean that Tayton Wells guy? The one with broad shoulders and Tony Stark hair? I kind of, um, overheard him talking to Cecilia yesterday. He was scoping out the store. That’s why you sound distracted.” Reese took another tray from the display case.

  “Distracted?” Keira popped the other half of the chocolate in her mouth.

  “And breathless.”

  “What? You are— no, definitely not breathless. Besides, this is work. It’s professional. And he’s all numbers and that pack-in-the-people kind of mentality.” She shook her head, disgusted. “Honestly, what do I do with him?”

  Reese smiled mischievously. “As my grandma would say, eat him with a spoon, he's yummy.�
�� Reese laid a piece of wax paper on the counter and moved the entire stack of no-sales within Kiera's reach.

  “Reese, seriously. He’s an ad exec, in downtown New York. People like him with jobs like that are like versions of the tin man. They don’t have hearts, they have bottom-lines and black wardrobes. He wants to video taking the gifts to people this year— as in, film it.”

  Reese gently stacked chocolates on a decorative tray. “Change isn't always bad. Maybe he wants to get the message out better. You know, we need the publicity.”

  With a frustrated grunt, Keira snagged one more chocolate. “You sound just like him. No, we are not going to put people on parade to make our numbers.”

  Reese shook her head. “Maybe he won’t do it that way. After all, he’s a professional, right? And, I bet a lot of women would tune in to see him on TV.”

  “Good grief, is that all you can think about?”

  “Pretty much. That and chocolate. Both are delicious.”

  Keira shook her head and grinned then waved bye.

  Erik the cameraman was waiting out front when she arrived. At exactly 9:30, Tayton pulled up to the store in a sweet olive green Land Rover. Pricey. While Erik stowed his gear, Tayton opened the door for Keira without a second thought then stowed the two large gift boxes stuffed with toys, food, and cash envelopes.

  On the drive to the trailer park, Tayton talked with Keira about potential marketing ideas. Keira considered Reese’s comments and Tayton himself. His black hair was trimmed in a trendy style, camel-colored sweater, plaid shirt beneath, and Gucci jacket. Casual but expensive, and at ease with himself and others. He spoke easily as well as knowledgeably with Erik about the angles and camera equipment. So far there didn’t seem to be a thing that Tayton couldn’t do related to marketing. Except realize when number-garnering crossed the line to exploitation.

  Tayton glanced from the windshield to his cell phone. “We need some quick marketing igniters. I’m thinking about an inter-department contest— top salespeople enter weekly for cash or store prizes. What do you think, Keira?”