Page 28 of The Grump Who Stole Christmas
“I know you have your hands full saving the inn, something I strongly support and will do anything I can to help, but if you have time in your schedule you should come down and check out the tree farm operation. I promise you at least that is being run at a profit.”
“I know it is. I saw the numbers. But only because you’renottaking a salary.”
“Two acres of land and a cabin. In some of the most beautiful country imaginable. I’m not complaining.”
“Fine. I’ll have to accept that. Now get out of my room,” she ordered.
“Yes, Kay-Kay.”
“And stop calling me Kay-Kay!”
“Sure, Kay-Kay,” I said, getting up. I was almost to the door when she stopped me.
“Hey, wait! Did you hear me snore? Or see me drool?”
I looked back at her. “Buddies don’t care about snoring or drooling. That’s a fact.”
I shut the door behind me and headed down the stairs.
A fucking huge smile on my face the whole time.
* * *
Kristen
Paul wasn’twrong about how late it was. I stared at the clock on my nightstand in shock. I’d slept until almost nine, which was unheard of for me, despite having stayed up until almost two a.m. last night.
With Paul. My brownie buddy.
A buddy. A friend. Someone I could share my burdens with. I didn’t have those things in my life. I didn’t have time. My life was my job. The people I spent time with were the people who worked for me. Lunches and dinners were about making deals. Building my business network.
A friend. An honest-to-goodness friend. I hadn’t had a relationship like that since college.
Which, coincidentally, was the last time I had an honest-to-goodness relationship.
That thing with David a few years ago was more about two busy people finding time to have sex whenever we could fit it into our schedules.
Maybe it would be nice to have a new friend. I would have someone to text funny memes to. We could develop a GIF shorthand.
I could tell him the truth, that I didn’t know if I could save the family business. Or I could ask for advice about my future prospects.
I could share the one secret I was holding onto that I hadn’t even told my family.
I was thirty-six years old and I didn’t have any friends. Any deep personal relationships.
I had a job.
“My job. My big deal job,” I muttered to no one.
Not ready to acknowledge the events of the last few weeks, I focused on the task at hand. It was now almost nine-thirty. Thirty minutes of wallowing in a pity party of my own making when work needed to be done was inexcusable.
I could save the family business.
I could do that. I had to do that.
Now that the coffee was kicking in, I needed a shower and a plan of action. I hopped out of bed and made my way to the bathroom.
The person I needed to start with was Dad. He’d been running the show into the ground and the hard reality was that it was time to put him on the bench.
