Page 36 of A Very Daddy Christmas

“That’s not all. Annie said she’s been hearing things in town.”

“What sort of things?”

“Apparently people are saying we aren’t living up to our end of the lease agreement. Meanwhile, that bastard is out there, playing the victim card with five hundred grand sitting in his escrow account, not to mention sending his goons here to terrorize us. It’s ridiculous.”

My heart breaks a little. “I don’t mean to be a bearer of bad news, but I fear he’s only just getting started, Eva.”

“He can suck a bag of—”

“Eva,” I chuckle dryly. “He’s not worth that kind of energy.”

“I’m worried, Cora. But I’m not backing down. And for some reason, neither are Sebastian, Waylan, and Riggs. I don’t know why God brought them to us, but I’ll be damned if I’ll let our parents’ hard work be for naught.”

As the hours go by, Eva and I keep ourselves busy. I prepare orders in the kitchen while she tends to customers. The lunch rush is swift but bountiful, and I can hear the cash register chiming with each sale as I roll my dough over the worktable. With deliberate movements, I stretch it out, remembering what my father taught me about every step of the process. Even though ten years have passed since he died, I can still hear his voice in my head, talking me through the motions of how to bake the perfect quiche.

“Cora,” Eva’s voice pulls me out of my memory.

I glance back to find her standing in the kitchen doorway with a sour look on her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Come out here for a minute. We need to talk.”

I follow her to the front. It’s late afternoon, and we’ll be closing soon. Only a handful of customers are left, their plates andcups almost empty. But that’s not what captures my attention. It’s Carl, Eva’s husband. He’s in his work clothes—dark yellow overalls, the construction company’s branded t-shirt, helmet still on his head and boots smudged with dried concrete. He looks miffed.

“What’s going on?” I ask, my gaze bouncing between Carl and Eva.

“I just got fired,” Carl replies, his dark brow furrowed. “On the spot. I’m getting my severance pay and whatnot, but the project just started. I lost six months’ worth of work, plus future projects, in under five minutes. What the hell is going on here?”

“I don’t understand, what does that have to do with—” I pause and take a deep breath as I remember who owns the company Carl works for. “Oh. George Hamilton. It came from above, didn’t it?”

“The foreman didn’t know what to tell me. He just handed me a measly check and said I’m not needed anymore,” Carl replies. “It came out of the blue.”

“I am so sorry,” Eva tells him.

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” Carl says.

“Wow, he’s really pulling out all the stops, isn’t he?” I say.

“George Hamilton was supposed to buy this building, right?” Carl asks.

I exhale sharply. “Yeah. But we doubled the price market with what Sebastian and the guys paid me for the nanny work. So it appears he’s lashing out.”

“This is weird,” Carl grumbles. I pull up a high stool for him to sit at the counter with us while Eva goes over to the kettle to make him a cup of chamomile tea. “What is it about this building that’s got St. James and Hamilton so determined to take it away from you two? It doesn’t make sense.”

“I don’t know. But this is their third act of retaliation,” I reply. “Did Eva tell you about today’s incident with Miss Blanchard?”

He nods again. “She texted me. Have these people lost their minds?”

“No, you’re right. Something is missing, something about this building. And I’m starting to think that Denaro mobster dude might be connected somehow. Those were his goons the other night. The guys are sure of it.”

Eva brings Carl his tea, a soft look lingering in her eyes. “What are you going to do, honey?”

“I’m not going to sit around and mope, that’s for sure. If Hamilton wants to be a vindictive prick, he can go ahead and be a vindictive prick. I’ll start looking for a new job in the meantime.”

“Winter is just starting,” I point out. “Pretty sure you’re going to have a hard time finding new projects. The one they had you on was scheduled to take a two-month break, right? But they were going to cover your days off?”

“Maybe that’s why they fired you. Your severance check is way smaller than two months of paid time off,” Eva says.

But Carl shakes his head. “Nah, I’m the only one who got laid off, and I’m their fire safety expert. It’s strange, I tell you. There’s no logical reason for them to do this.”

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