Page 54 of Mistletoe, Mayhem & Mr. Grump
"Finally!" Sterling's voice is pitched somewhere between relief and homicidal rage. "Do you know how many times I've called?"
"Forty," I guess.
"Fifty-three! The board demands an update. What's your timeline for the Snowfall Creek acquisition?" he demands.
I look around at the chaos—Teddy now completely wrapped in rope like a festive mummy, Giuseppe directing with wild hand gestures, Finn's truck somehow now stuck in reverse, and Wren laughing as she tries to help untangle Teddy while also holding the tree steady.
"There is no timeline," I say.
"What do you mean there's no timeline?" Sterling screeches.
"I mean, it's not happening. Snowfall Creek isn't for sale," I tell him, watching Wren's hair escape from her knit hat.
"Everything's for sale at the right price," he argues.
"Not this. Not them," I say firmly.
"Them? Holden, please tell me you haven't gone native," Sterling says with horror.
"I prefer 'culturally integrated,'" I say, watching Wren successfully free Teddy only to get tangled herself.
"This is about that toy shop woman, isn't it?" Sterling guesses. "The one with the debt?"
My blood runs cold. "How do you know about her debt?"
"We know everything. That's what due diligence means," he says impatiently. "Look, if she's the obstacle, we can make her debt disappear. Hell, we can make her entire shop disappear and give her a settlement that?—"
I hang up. Then I look at my phone, Sterling's contact still displayed, and make a decision. I block the number. Then, I delete it entirely.
"Corporate troubles?" Wren asks, appearing at my elbow with rope burns and twigs in her hair.
"Ex-corporate," I correct, pocketing my phone. "Very ex."
"That sounded like a breakup," she observes, pulling a pine needle from her sleeve.
"It was. I just divorced an entire industry," I tell her.
"That's very thorough. I usually just block their number and eat ice cream," she says.
"I did block the number," I admit. "Might still do the ice cream part later, though."
"Giuseppe makes a flavor called 'Relationship Death.' It's chocolate with tears," she informs me.
"Whose tears?" I ask warily.
"It's better not to know," she says wisely.
"PULL!" Delia screams, and we rush back to our positions.
This time, miraculously, the tree straightens. And stays straight. Everyone cheers.
"We did it!" Teddy celebrates, still partially wrapped in rope like the world's happiest bondage Santa.
"Five minutes before the inspector!" Delia says, checking her watch. "Everyone looks festive! Teddy, untangle yourself! Giuseppe, stop crying!"
"They're tears of joy!" Giuseppe protests, wiping his face.
"They're going into the ice cream, aren't they?" I whisper to Wren.
