Page 19 of Meet Me on Christmas Eve

This was not how I wanted today to go. I’d gone to bed last night with so much determination, a will like I’d never had before. And I’d had plenty before. I’d risen from basically nothing, after all. Less than nothing, since I'd saddled myself with student loans at first. Of course, I’d had help along the way. I wouldn’t be where I am today without the inheritance from Lisa Jackson, but when I bought the resort, it was struggling financially. I’d transformed it from nearly bankrupt to incredibly successful, and Northam Resort was now Northam Resorts. We had two other locations, and our ten-year plan included further expansion.

The Christmas village hadn’t been in that plan, and I’d shocked my leadership team when I’d announced my intention. I didn’t mind that—a bit of unpredictability keeps everyone on their toes. Let them wonder.

It was already past 9 am, and I was sitting in my office with my bathrobe on, sipping my second coffee between bites of buttery toast. I’d scrolled through the morning’s work emails and found nothing urgent to attend to. Jesse Cane was already on his way to the airport, but Stacy Immers was leaving later today. I was relieved. The last thing I needed was for them to have a blowout at the airport that was later connected back to the resort. I had a great PR team, but they weren't as helpful outside of these walls.

As the caffeine and pain reliever began to kick in, my thoughts returned to my goal. I had to find a way to convince Jane. But how?

Jane seemed amenable to the sale when they’d met. Had Nina changed her mind? It was hard to believe, as Nina seemed so sweet. She reminded me of the grandmother I’d always wished I had.

Or did Terry have something to do with it? They seemed close.

It seemed possible, but … I didn’t want to believe he’d sink that low. Would he?

But why? Why did he seem to resent me? If anyone should be resentful, it’s me. He hurt me. Why does he think he has a reason to hate me?

I shook my head, unable to make sense of it.

Whatever the reason though, it seemed unavoidable. I had to talk to him. He obviously had Jane’s ear, and if he could convince her not to sell, there’s a good chance he could persuade her back in a more favorable direction too.

The idea of talking to him again made my stomach turn. Or maybe that was the hangover. But I saw no other option.

OK, with that decided, now how do I find him? I have no idea where he lives, no phone number. No idea where he hangs out. Asking Jane might look suspicious. All I know is he works at the shop, but I don’t know his work schedule.

I frowned as I opened my laptop to look up the shop hours.

Wait, today is the day after Thanksgiving. Black Friday! Also known as the day thateveryperson working in retail has to work.

My mouth curved into a smile. He has to be there today!

Oh wait, today the shop has extended hours.

Shit.

He could work morning, afternoon, or evening hours. Or some combination. Should I call and ask what time he works today? No, that would sound like a stalker. And they probably can’t give me that information anyway, unless I say I’m someone he knows.

Think, Mariana. Probably the least weird thing to do would be to just go there and pretend to shop while I look around for him. If he’s not there, I can just … come back later. Or drive around and look for his car, which I remember seeing the other day.

Nope, too stalkerish, Mariana.I shook my head. It must be the hangover messing with my head still. I was never going to drink again.

Less than an hour later, I was bundled up in a winter coat and boots because it was snowing and freezing outside. The temperature in the shop was a bit stifling though even as I just started roaming around. Well, inching my way through it. There were so many people, it was hard to move. I’d rarely gone out shopping on Black Friday, at least not in the morning, so I wasn’t used to the overwhelming crowds. At least I’d kept my shades on though, maintaining a facade of anonymity.

After what felt like forever, every imaginable body part was sweaty, and I felt like I’d never find him, even if he was here. But then out of the corner of my eye, I saw that dark head of hair lifting something from a high shelf. I breathed a sigh of relief and started making my way toward him, though progress was slow since I didn’t want to knock over any displays or, well, people.

Finally, I reached him as he was stocking a shelf of candles.

“Terry.”

He glanced up, his arm pausing in the box in front of him, but only for a moment. He resumed stocking. “What?”

I bristled at his tone, but I kept mine courteous. “We need to talk.”

“We do?” He continued placing candles on the shelf.

I bit my tongue to keep from saying something rude. “Yes. We … I need to talk to you.”

He put two more candles on the shelf and then turned to me, looking me up and down. “I’m working. Can’t you see that?”

“Well, yes, but I was hoping—”

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