The walk back to the business office last night had been painfully awkward. Adam could probably tell how devastated I was that he still wanted to sell the business instead of honoring his father’s dream by taking over running Silver Bells. All of the things I’d wanted to show him had been forgotten as I’d fought to keep back the tears, which were stinging my eyes.
When Adam had suggested lunch the next day to discuss things, I had no choice but to say yes since he was still my boss (although for how much longer I didn’t know). At noon the next day, I found myself sitting across the table from him at BBQ, a favorite haunt of the locals.
Even though tourism was slightly up this year from last, the place wasn’t too packed. Pippa, the waitress, had taken one look at his handsome face and managed to find us a table for two hidden away in the corner. I didn’t have the energy to tell her this was a business lunch. I wondered if he always received special treatment because of his looks, but then I felt ungracious as he had looked genuinely upset at the way events had unfolded last night.
Dressed in his usual business suit, he seemed out of place at BBQ, but if it weren’t for the worried expression on his face he seemed almost at ease in these casual surroundings. A crackling log fire burned in the fireplace and added heat to my already flushed face.
“Faith, I am so sorry you’re taking this so hard. I thought my dad, or at least his attorney, would have spoken to you about the fact that I planned to sell the business. I can’t stay in Christmas Mountain, it’s not my home.”
I felt like sticking my bottom lip out as I had as a sulky teenager, but I forced myself to sit up straight and keep a professional look on my face. “But this was your home once. Why can’t it be again?” I asked, rationally.
Adam took a sip of his soda and placed the glass down before leaning forward. “Faith, I left Christmas Mountain when I was sixteen, which means I’ve spent almost as long away from here. I only have a handful of memories of my time here.” He traced a finger down the length of his glass, making a path for the drop of condensation, which ran down after it. “It’s not my home,” he repeated, the corners of his mouth turning downward.
I felt a pang of sympathy for him since he looked genuinely upset. I chewed thoughtfully on a slice of my beef brisket, and took a sip of water before speaking. “Why did you leave?”
Adam sat back in his chair and pushed his plate away, raking his fingers through his dark hair with his other hand.
I tried to suppress a smile. “You have a . . . you have a bit of . . . barbeque sauce in your hair.”
He looked at me and then at his hand, before grabbing a napkin and wiping his forehead. “Sorry, I’m a mess today.”
“You missed it.” I took the napkin from him and leaned across the table, wiping away the sauce, which he had managed to miss despite swiping at it several times. As I did so he held my gaze, not speaking and yet telling me he had a world of hurt in his soul. I hadn’t even realized that I was still wiping his skin until he took my hand and lowered it to the table, before letting go. Oops.
“My parents broke up when I was in my teens,” he said, staring into his glass. “Dad fought Mom for custody, but she said this area wasn’t a good place to raise a child. She found some hotshot lawyer who won the case. At the time I was in full teenage angst mode and living in New York sounded cool. I guess I bought into the bright lights, big city dream.”
“But it was a mistake?” I prompted.
For a moment, he remained silent. “I can’t say it was a mistake. I made friends, went to a great high school and then college. Mom married a rich guy so we didn’t want for anything. It was a good life.”
I waited. “But . . .?”
He glanced up at me. “No buts.”
“There was a definite but there, Adam. But if you don’t want to tell me . . . ” I wanted to press him for more but he looked so vulnerable and sad that I changed the subject. “The forecast calls for snow tomor—”
“Something was missing.”
I blinked. “Pardon?”
“But . . . something was missing.” Adam looked at me, his blue eyes shining as though he were fighting back tears. “For all of the money and privileges we had, something was missing, but I could never bring myself to admit it. At least, not aloud.”
His head dropped a little and it broke my heart that such a beautiful man had such a troubled soul. “But in private?” I asked.
He sat up. “In private, I missed my dad, with his crazy ideas about Christmas, and his hand-carved toys, and his dreams. All of his personality traits that drove Mom crazy were the things I missed.”
I frowned, trying to understand. “Why didn’t you come back? When you were old enough, I mean? From what I understood, your dad would visit you but you didn’t visit him here. I’ve been working at Silver Bells since last Christmas and the only photos I ever saw of you were the ones your dad had on his desk, and you looked about ten years old.”
“He had photos of me?” he asked, his voice thick.
“Of course,” I said, wondering how he couldn’t have known this. “He loved you and was always telling people how proud he was of his successful son.”
“Wow.” He sucked in a deep breath and leaned forward onto his forearms. “I never came back to visit. How could I? I had abandoned him. I was too ashamed to come back to the place I used to lo—” He stopped abruptly, bowing his head.
A glimmer of hope lit up my heart. “The place you loved?”
He let out a breath and nodded. “And then, as I got older, there was no reason to come back, until . . .” His voice trailed off, his eyes searching mine.
“Until now,” I finished, feeling terrible that it took his dad passing away to bring him back to his hometown.
Silence sat heavily between us for a few moments, before Adam cleared his throat. “When we get back to the office, would you get the accounts together for the past year for me, please?”
My forehead wrinkled. How could he go from opening up in a real way to all business? “Of course I can do that, but the past twelve months don’t really reflect the true earning potential of Silver Bells. Tourism has been struggling a bit the past few years and we’ve had kind of a quiet spell since your dad passed, but with a Kline back at the helm I’m sure—”
“Please, stop.” He snapped his head up and looked at me. “I’m selling Silver Bells, you know that. In fact, I have potential buyers coming on Monday to take a look around and they want to see the past twelve months’ accounts.”
My stomach roiled. “Maybe I should also print our most profitable years.”
“The buyers aren’t interested in what happened before, only what the place is turning over now. If it’s not making a decent profit, they plan to close it down and build a day spa.”
“A day spa?” I asked, my tone incredulous. A new owner had sounded traumatizing enough. “You would sell to someone who planned to shut down Silver Bells completely?”
“I have a lot of work to do today, so I won’t be back to the office.” He stood, his tone cold as he placed his napkin on the table. “Please use the company card to pay for lunch. Shall we meet in the office on Monday at say eleven-thirty?”
“You’re the boss,” I said, wondering how our deep conversation had gone so wrong.