Cliffside Christmas

by Tess Thompson

  For now, she needed to make this deal happen. It had to be this network. His dad’s network.

  “Sullivan, lay it on me. What’s the but?” Mitchel asked again.

  Honor took a sip from her water glass before answering. “There is a ‘but.’ Brody remains in California. His home and family are there. That’s a nonnegotiable for him.”

  Mitchell shrugged and pushed his glasses farther up his nose. “It’s of no significance to us.”

  “I want it written into the contract.” She’d learned over the years to be specific in contracts, even if the old-boy network tried to convince her that a handshake would do. Trust no one. Fight like the devil for your client.

  “Fine. Anything else?” Mitchell asked.

  She sat back in her chair, studying him. No wedding ring. Designer suit. Red tie to express power. Trendy eyeglasses that complemented his green eyes. Young and hungry. He hadn’t dropped it into casual conversation like so many of the men she negotiated with, but he was probably educated in one of the snooty East Coast universities. She imagined he worked eighty-hour weeks.

  A worthy opponent. She respected ambition and hard work. She liked him, other than the fact that he’d underestimated her. Most men did. Given her small stature and pretty face, they assumed she would be an easy target. Not so much. They had another think coming when it came to Honor Sullivan Shaw. “We need another zero added to the salary offer.”

  Mitchell didn’t even blink. This guy was good. “Another zero? That’s quite a difference.”

  “This is Brody flipping Mullen. The best quarterback of all time. You’re not the only one who wants him.”

  “I’m aware of that, yes.”

  “Then you know what he’s going to cost. And it’s not this.” She reached across the table and tapped the contract with her pink nails.

  “This would make him the highest-paid color analyst in the business,” Mitchell said.

  “Exactly. That’s as it should be.” She scooted her rolling chair several inches out from the table—her version of a red tie. “You know as well as I that he wants to be here because this is where his father worked. Brody’s a sentimental guy. Which makes him stupid when it comes to negotiating salary or anything else for that matter. Fortunately, he has me.”

  This provoked a smile from her opponent. “Small buy mighty,” he said.

  She ignored his attempt to persuade her through flattery. This wasn’t her first rodeo. “You know he has his heart set on taking his father’s place at the table. I realize this factored into the offer.”

  Mitchell shrugged but remained quietly stoic.

  “However, I’m not sentimental. I don’t have a sentimental bone in my body. In addition, I know what he’s worth on the market, as do you.”

  “Another zero is ridiculous.”

  “No, the current offer is ridiculous.” She pulled a stack of papers from her briefcase. “I didn’t want to do this, but here is the offer we received from your competition.” She pushed it across the table. “See that? Another zero.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “We could get Sam Wright for what I’m offering Brody.”

  “Yes, and you’d have Sam Wright and not Brody Mullen.”

  He took off his glasses and smoothed one eyebrow with a manicured finger. “You’re kind of a menace, Sullivan.”

  “I’ve heard that before.”

  “Fine, another zero. Do we have a deal?”

  “There’s one more thing,” Honor said.

  He groaned. “You’re killing me, Sullivan.”

  “Brody’s wife is a very private person. She can’t be the wife on his arm. No public functions. No social media. No magazine spreads of the happy couple.”

  “That doesn’t matter to us. As you say, he’s the best quarterback the game’s ever had. He’s famous enough without worrying about building a brand or platform.”

  “Good. Then you have a deal.” Honor stood, as did Mitchell. They shook hands.

  “Too bad you’re married, Sullivan. We’d make a great pair.”

  “Forbes, you’d never be able to handle me.”

  He laughed. “Good point. Now how about a drink with Brody to toast our deal?”

  “You had me at drink. Let me text him to meet us at the bar downstairs.”

  Brody was out shopping for a last-minute gift for Kara. They’d passed Tiffany’s earlier, and he’d been enamored with a pair of diamond earrings. She suspected he’d come back with them in his pocket. Hopefully they wouldn’t get mugged before they made it back to Cliffside Bay.

  As they got into the elevator, Honor asked Mitchell what he was doing for Christmas.

  “Not much. I’m a lonely single guy.”

  “No family?” she asked.

  “No, I lost my mom last year. It was just the two of us, so doing the holiday thing without her is too hard. I plan on ignoring it altogether and spending the next few days watching sports, ordering takeout, and drinking too much.”

  The sadness in his voice surprised her. This lesson never ceased. People were not always what they seemed.

  “Come on, Forbes, I’ll buy you a drink.”

  The bar had that festive, anticipatory feeling that came just before Christmas. Modern holiday music blared from the speakers. Groups of work friends made toasts and exchanged gifts. Brody had secured a table in the corner. He waved them over. “Honor’s smiling, so I take it you guys came to terms.”

  The men shook hands. “She made me cry but yeah, we made it happen,” Mitchell said.

  “She didn’t really? Did she?”

  Honor laughed at Brody’s worried expression. “I didn’t make him cry. He was a worthy opponent.”

  “Sullivan, you say that to all the boys,” Mitchell said. “As a way to assuage our fragile egos after you annihilate us during negotiations.”

  “Maybe,” Honor said. “But it’s Christmas, so let’s pretend it isn’t true.”

  A buxom dark-haired beauty with tattoos up and down her arms appeared with menus. They ordered drinks and an appetizer.

  Brody glanced at his watch. “We have an hour before we need to leave for the airport.”

  “My assistant ordered you a car,” Mitchell said. “It’ll pick you up right outside and whisk you off to the airport.”

  “You’re a class act, Forbes,” Honor said.

  “As are you,” Mitchell said with a respectful bob of his head.

  The waitress brought their drinks. They toasted to the future.

  “Thanks for flying out on such short notice,” Mitchell said. “Now that we’ve sealed the deal, I have to tell you my boss had a fit when he heard Brody had an offer from the other network. I got a call yesterday at five a.m. ‘Get Mullen on the next plane out here and do your magic.’”

  “Magic?” Honor asked. “Are you sure that’s the word he used?”

  Mitchell gave her a sheepish smile. “He knows I had a special relationship with Brody’s dad. I guess he figured I could use that to persuade Brody to sign with us. He didn’t know about Tiger Sullivan.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Honor said.

  “My dad was very fond of you,” Brody said to Mitchell.

  “I was twenty-one years old when I came here as your dad’s intern,” Mitchell said. “He taught me a lot, mostly about integrity and work ethic. He was a father figure to me. My own father was...well, not like yours.”

  “I miss him every day,” Brody said, his voice tight.

  “Me too,” Mitchell said.

  “He’d be psyched to know we’re working together.” Brody patted Mitchell’s shoulder. “As am I.”

  “Hey now, we have to keep an eye on the clock,” Mitchell said as he cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed.

  Men are such funny creatures.

  “If we missed our plane, my wife might never forgive me,” Brody said.

  “We’re both expecting babies any day now,” Honor said.

  Mitchell regarded her f
rom across the table. “How’s that work for you exactly, Sullivan?”

  “I have a surrogate,” Honor said. “I look good from the outside, but there’s a few things missing inside, including the parts that make babies.”

  “I’m sorry,” Mitchell said. He smoothed the palm of his hand over his hair. For the first time, Honor saw a flicker of uncertainty from the young executive.

  “It’s fine,” she said. “Zane’s sister is our surrogate.”

  “Does she have kids of her own?” Mitchell asked.

  “No, she’s barely out of college,” Honor said. “But she wanted to do it for her brother.”

  “What a gift,” Mitchell said.

  “Wait a minute, Forbes,” Honor said. “Did I just hear a little Southern twang in your voice?”

  “Did I just hear one in yours?” he asked.

  “Tennessee,” she said.

  “Northern Georgia. One stoplight and sixteen churches.”

  “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” Honor said.

  “We live in that kind of town, too. Well, not the churches part, but the one stoplight.” Brody started in with a description of Cliffside Bay as he did whenever given the opportunity to brag about their little town.

  “I can see why you wanted it in the contract,” Mitchell said with a sigh. “Sounds idyllic.”

  “You can come out sometime,” Brody said. “But you’ll have to be careful. Most people fall in love with it and never want to leave.”

  “It’s the truth,” Honor said. “We also have a high percentage of marriages and babies.”

  “Sounds like I should make a visit sooner than later,” Mitchell said as he raised his glass. “To Christmas babies.”

  Honor and Brody raised their glasses. “To Christmas babies,” she said.

  Now they just needed to get home before the Christmas babies arrived.

  Zane

  ZANE SHAW, WITH SEVEN-year-old Jubie in the back seat, turned the Christmas music on in the car as he pulled out of the driveway. Holiday lights twinkled from the neighborhood houses as he made his way down the hill toward the main street of town. Jubie sang along to “Santa Claus Is Coming to Town” with her nose pressed to the glass. Like his wife, Jubie loved the lights. The two of them had rated all the displays from one star to ten stars. The Warfields’ house was a one-star. Their house had multicolored lights tossed in what appeared to be a haphazard fashion on the top of two bushes and a string of red lights over the garage. The perfect ten had been given to the Moores’ house. White lights dazzled from every surface of every tree, bush, awnings and walls. Zane cringed any time he thought about their electric bill for the month of December.

  He turned the car onto Main Street. White lights in the trees sparkled in the dark evening. Every storefront was decorated in some fashion, including his bar and grill, The Oar. He craned his neck to see if Taco Tuesday had brought the expected numbers of diners. He shouldn’t have worried. The place was packed. His sister Sophie, who was about to give birth, was at the hostess lectern greeting guests. He’d tried to get her to stop working weeks ago, but she refused. She wanted to work up until the end. “I’m not the type to sit around waiting,” she’d said. He knew this to be true. His sister, like his wife, had a lot of physical energy. They were both happiest when they had work to do.

  Sophie. When he and Maggie discovered that her mother and his father had fallen in love and made Sophie, neither of them could believe it. That is, until they met Sophie. Then it was as if they’d always known one another.

  He glanced at the clock on the dash. Honor and Brody would be getting on the plane around now to come home. He hadn’t wanted either of them to take the trip out to New York with the babies about to come, but it had been too big an opportunity for Brody.

  “Only two more days until the baby comes,” Jubie said, temporarily interrupting her singing concert.

  He smiled at her in the mirror. “We don’t know for sure when he’ll come.”

  “Sophie told me she thinks he’s coming on Christmas day.”

  “That would be something, wouldn’t it?” Zane asked.

  “Daddy! No, it would be awful. You can’t share a birthday with Jesus and expect many presents.”

  He laughed. “We’ll make sure he gets a lot of presents.”

  Daddy. The holidays were rough without him. He wished he were here to see the family man Zane had become. Heck, if he was wishing, he wanted his dad here to meet Jubie and his son.

  Hugh Shaw had always loved Christmas. Even though it had just been the two of them, he always made sure they had a tree in their little apartment above the bar and grill. They’d had their morning ritual of opening presents and stockings and then in the afternoon had gone to the home of his best friend, Jackson Waller, for Christmas dinner. Lily Waller had been a fine cook, but it wasn’t just the food that had made those Christmases special. Lily was as warm and beautiful as the home she’d made with Cliffside Bay’s only doctor. Jon Waller, whom everyone referred to as Doc, was as generous as his wife. Often there were several strays invited to Christmas dinner. Whoever graced their table was always made to feel like part of the family. The Shaws and Wallers, although not blood related, had been family. After Maggie’s mom died when they were only ten, Lily had practically raised her.

  Growing up, he and Jackson and Maggie were best friends. They did everything together, including sitting eating Christmas dinner around the Wallers’ big table. Now they were all grown. Maggie and Jackson were married and had baby Lily. Jackson had taken over his father’s practice. Maggie was a rising folk-rock star after her first album hit the alternative charts last summer.

  His eyes stung. Of their parents, Doc, Jackson’s dad, was the only one left. Maggie’s mother had died the night she gave birth to Sophie. Lily had died at the end of their senior year of high school. What was it about the holidays that brought the memories crashing in like the waves they loved to surf?

  “Daddy?” Jubie asked from the back.

  He’d learned that Jubie almost always said, “Daddy,” and he was expected to answer before she would ask the question.

  He met her eyes in the rearview mirror. “Yeah, baby?”

  “Why did you get sad just now?”

  This girl of his amazed him. How had she known that?

  As if she’d heard his question, she answered. “When you’re sad, you breathe in through your nose real fast and then out again and your nose whistles.”

  “It does?”

  She nodded, solemn.

  “I was thinking about all the people I’ve loved who are no longer here,” he said. “My dad. Jackson’s mom. Maggie’s mom.”

  Her big eyes blinked a few times as she tilted her head to the right. She suddenly looked much older than her seven years. “Yeah, I know how you feel.”

  “You miss your mom?” he asked, almost afraid to hear the answer, even though he knew what it would be.

  Jubie turned to her window and placed her hand on the glass. “I miss her all the time.”

  I’m sorry, baby.

  Jubie’s mother had died of cancer and through a series of miraculous events, she had come to him and Honor. They’d decided swiftly that they, of all people, were the ones to adopt her as their own. They’d made the decision on pure instinct and never looked back. Now he couldn’t imagine his life without this girl and her pure heart. She’d come to them skinny and pale, her dark eyes too big for her gaunt face. Now she was robust and kissed by the sun. Her eyes sparkled with life and curiosity.

  Yet she still missed her mother. She always would. He understood and wished that his baby girl could live without the pain of loss. However, this was not the way of the world. With love came loss.

  He glanced at her from the rearview mirror just as she turned away from her window. “Do you think my mom knows your dad in heaven?”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me.” He stopped in the middle of town to let a few pedestrians cross the street. Lance and Ma
ry’s bookstore was all lit up tonight. Shoppers milled about the shelves picking out books as gifts. Mary was with two young women near the best-seller shelf. Lance was on a ladder getting a book down for a man. Freckles, their dog, was at the front desk wagging his tail at the long line of people waiting to pay for their purchases. Flora must be taking care of baby Faith tonight.

  “Yeah?”

  “Does it make Mama sad that I still miss Mom?”

  “No way, sweetheart. She understands. She lost her mother when she was your age, remember?”

  “Yeah. But she never had a new mama.”

  “That’s right, which is why she understands more than anyone. She knows that she would still love her mom even if another woman had come to be her second mother. Does that make sense?”

  “I guess so.”

  “Your heart has room to love lots of people,” he said.

  She didn’t answer. When he glanced back at her, she was staring out her window again, the shop lights illuminating her face.

  “No matter what, Mama and I love you,” he said. “And you can talk about anything to us. All your feelings, even if you think they might make one of us sad.”

  She turned and flashed him one of her precious smiles. “I know, Daddy.”

  At the end of town, he turned right to take the road up to Brody and Kara’s house. A few minutes later, they stopped at the security gate. Rafael was on duty tonight, wearing a Santa hat. He lowered the window of the booth to greet them. “Hey, Zane. Hello, Miss Jubie.”

  “Hi, Rafael,” Jubie said from the back. Was it his imagination, or had her voice just gone up an octave?

  “You guys here to check on Kara?” Rafael asked.

  “Yes, she called a bit ago,” Zane said. “She can’t find Minnie. She thinks she may have gotten outside somehow.”

  “My night guy will be here in a few minutes,” Rafael said. “I’ll comb the property and see if I can find her.”

  “Good plan. I’ll drop Jubie with Kara and do the same.”

  He pulled through the gate and up to the house. Thousands of white lights hung from the house, trees, and bushes. A department store–sized wreath dangled over the garage—a new addition to Brody’s outrageous decorations. The man needed a job.