Page 77 of Booked for the Holidays
There.
Her smile is strained. Pinched in the left corner. Her dimple is hidden away, and her eyes are less bright. She looks tired. Pale.
“Yeah.” She gives me a squeeze and her arms return to her side. “We can get through this together.”
“Okay,” I agree. “Together.”
Bridget’s chin juts toward the door and I nod. Her arm laces through mine, guiding us to the leather couch positioned in the middle of the room. We sit down and her knee presses into mine, a comforting gesture.
“You with me?” she asks. Low, quiet, so only I can hear.
“Yeah. I’m with you.”
“Good. I’m not leaving your side, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Hello you two! My, my, aren’t they cute. You, especially.” A wink from the blonde woman standing over us gets tossed in my direction.
“Hi,” Bridget says. “I’m Bridget. This is Theo. We’re ready for the interview. I know we received an itinerary to stick to. We both have business to run, and we’d like to get started so we can get back to work as quickly as possible.”
Thank fuck for her.
“Of course.” The interviewer smiles at us and takes the seat opposite the sofa. “We are so excited to sit down with you. My name is Lindsey, and I’m one of the chief editors atTravel Living.The goal of today is to let the readers get to know you a little better. Sure, they might see the social media posts or pop into your stores from time to time. But who really are Bridget and Theo?” Her eyes bounce between us before turning to the woman beside me. She offers a smile that doesn’t seem authentic. “Bridget. Why don’t we start with you? Tell me about why you started a bookstore.”
I tune their conversation out, nodding at the appropriate moments. I hear chunks of Bridget’s story. Some of it I know. Some of it I don’t. Some of it I’d like to learn more of. Her voice is strong, easily answering the questions lobbed her way. There’s an unmitigated joy to her words when she talks about certain parts of her life; her friends, the books, joining the competition. It’s love of the small things in life. Finding beauty in the mundane. Christmas magic and cheer, and pure thankfulness for the opportunity to be sitting on this couch, sharing her story.
I’m lucky to be beside her, to listen to her passion and soak up her sunshine. Bridget’s special, and the more time I spend with her, the more her thigh presses into mine, reassuring me and keeping me calm, the more I think I want her to stick around.
“Theo! It’s your turn now.”
“Great,” I say.
“Everyone was surprised by your agreement to sit down for the interview. From what I’ve heard from folks around town, you’re typically someone who keeps to himself. You send proxies to town hall meetings. Can you give us any insight into your reclusiveness?”
My spine stiffens and I pull at the collar of my shirt. “As CEO of Gardner’s Hardware, I have a lot of tasks I need to accomplish each day. It doesn’t afford me a lot of time to sit around and be social. I handle business behind the scenes, while Lucas, our CFO, often takes my place at the town events.”
“Interesting. Now, Theo, everyone knows about the accident of course.”
My jaw flexes. My hands run up my thighs, turning into fists. This was not a line of questioning I anticipated being asked.
“That night really proved to be a turning point for the company,” the woman continues. “Why don’t you tell us about the store being in your family for years and the aftermath of such a life-changing event?”
“My family has owned the store for generations. My great-grandfather started Gardner’s Hardware before Cove Avenue rose in popularity. It was smaller back then, about half the size of the shop now. His motto was “people over profit.” He wanted to make money, yeah, but he cared about the community more. When my parents took over, they found additional ways to get involved with other local organizations. They’re well-loved by so many members of our city. The accident was unfortunate and unpreventable. Mom and Dad didn’t want to sell, so that left me to step in.”
“Do you think you’re qualified to sit in the CEO seat despite having no prior management experience? Your sales numbers this year are slightly lower than years past. Nicknames have been tossed around about you, mentioning words such asabrasive. How do your parents feel about all this negativity?” the interviewer asks, staring at me inquisitively.
She’s baiting me, trying to get me to reveal some revolutionary information that’s going to sell copies of the magazine. I’m about to open my mouth and respond in a way that’s certainly going to paint me as an asshole, living up to the adjective of abrasive, but Bridget speaks first, intervening on my behalf.
“Lisa,” she says.
“It’s Lindsey.”
“I’m so sorry. My mistake,” Bridget apologizes. “It’s been a crazy month. Surely you understand.”
I know Bridget’s apology isn’t sincere. Her smile has faltered. Her grip on the armrest of the couch has become a smidge tighter. She’s sitting up straighter, back rigid and alert.
My lips twitch at the hidden venom behind her words.
