Page 3 of 27 Kisses

“She tends to screech. Doesn’t matter.” Nat waves a hand carelessly. “She wants the earliest date possible for her daughter’s wedding.”

Nat does all the scheduling. The only reason I’m involved at this point is because Mrs. James wouldn’t accept Nat’s answer. “Which is when?”

“Um…May of next year.” Nat sounds unsure. And Nat is always sure.

“We’re booked solid until May?”

“All that hard work paid off, boss.” Her grin is too wide. “In less than two years?—”

“What aren’t you telling me, Nat?”

She stares at the beams overhead like they might hold the answers. “I mean, the weekend after Christmas is technically open but?—”

“Then what’s the problem? Give her that weekend.”

She jabs her hands on her hips and glares. “We’d have to work most of Christmas week to get everything done.”

“We don’t want to lose her as a client.” And then I remember Aidyn’s words when I once complained about Nat being stubborn.But you’re the boss, right? You’re in charge.

So, I remind her. Gently. “I’m the boss, Nat.”

“Sure. But a boss with no employees, if you make them work on Christmas. Again.”

My mouth is open, preparing to remind her of last year’s precedent, but I shut it again. “Tons of people work on Christmas.”

“Then go hire them.” Her jaw is set. Firm. Unbudgeable.

It’s frustration more than anything that has me adding, “Christmas is just another day?—”

“Maybe if you spent time with your family…no scratch that. Maybe if you had a family—” She stops, looking only slightly mortified.

“Ouch. My sister died. Remember?”

She sighs, and her face softens a fraction. “Ten years ago, according to Mrs. Weppler.” The town librarian. And the biggest gossip around. Great. “I’m not saying there should be a time limit on grief, but how long has it been since you celebrated Christmas?”

“That’s not the point.” No way am I admitting it was over a decade ago. That I wasted all those years I could have spent with Emily.

Her tone softens. “Even workaholic businessmen deserve to be happy.”

My phone beeps again, but I ignore it.

“I am happy,” I say as if it’s true. As if I believe it. “And this isn’t a therapy session.”

“Fine. You’re single and happy to work through the holidays. It keeps you busy.” She jabs a finger at me. “But it’s not like you to be so callous about your employees.”

“Last Christmas?—”

“That was an emergency.”

An emergency wedding.

But it was. A car accident with the groom hurt and in need of surgery. Their perfect wedding, still a few weeks away, had turned into a quick wedding at the hospital. They wanted everything in place before his surgery, just in case. My staff had worked their asses off to make it beautiful. On Christmas.

“You have a big heart, boss.”

“All lies.” I laugh, but it’s heavy with emotion. Remembering that day. And the day from years before. Emily lying in a hospital bed. Hooked up to machines. Holding her hand but not getting a response.

But this wasn’t like Emily. The groom survived. Everything worked out.