to care about the display or the shopping season. Your father always worried about that. You not being able to charm the public. You’re not exactly...the warmest guy I know.”
“Putting on airs is a waste of time. Maybe I’m better suited to work in stocks and investment like you,” I suggested.
“First off, this is a horrible time to sell Palmers. Get it back in good repair, then you can weigh your options. If you’re fine with breaking your dad’s heart, that is. Second off, my job requires me to be good with people too. To gain their trust and make them believe I have their best interests at heart. Not an easy thing to pull off when all you care about is how much money they’re willing to put in your hands.”
I let it all sink in. The reality that I wasn’t getting out from under this sinking business any time soon. Like Pete said, I’d have to put it on the mend first, and even then I could never sell off all those years of hardwork from my father and his father before him to the highest bidder. I’d have a whole new level of personal investment before long anyway.
And somehow...This all led to me having to let some flighty, head in the clouds blogger think she could convince me to love Christmas?
“This is absurd,” I blew out a laugh. “And what a waste of time.”
“Not such a big waste if you think about it,” he offered. “Your top priority right now is keeping your company out of the red. You need to boost sales and public interest. A positive write-up from this blogger can only help.”
“There has to be a better way,” I shook my head, chewing the corner of my mouth.
“Look, Chris. If I can be blunt…”
“When are you ever not blunt with me?”
“You’re better off just getting this thing done and out of the way than sitting around trying to find a way out of it. I agree it’s not the most ideal snag to hit the moment you’ve taken over, but it is what it is. If I were complaining to you about this, you’d be even more blunt about it.”
I sighed, knowing he was right. “I would tell you to stop whining.”
“Exactly. And who knows? Maybe it will be good for you.”
That part I wasn’t so convinced of.
“What does this broad look like anyway?” He asked with a devilish gleam in his eyes.
“She’s hot,” I stated without hesitation, but I shrugged it off. That hardly mattered as far as I could see. “But that’s beside the point.”
“Maybe not,” he grinned. “Maybe that’s why you’re so resistant to this. You do have a habit of shutting out anything that makes you feel something. If she’s hot, perhaps you’re more worried about just how far she’ll get under your skin.”
“Short of injecting gingerbread and holly in my bloodstream, she doesn’t seem to have an interest in getting under much of anything...or anyone.”
“Except maybe Santa Claus,” he quipped.
I grimaced. “I really didn’t need that image in my head. Let’s just hope there’s a limit to how fanatical she is about all of this. But blackmailing me to force me to love Christmas...doesn’t sound too promising.”
He stood and slid back into his suit jacket just before throwing back the last of his drink. After walking over and patting my shoulder, he winked and said, “Good luck. Keep me posted.”
I nodded half-heartedly, and quickly poured myself another drink after he was gone. If I was going to have to do this, I intended to be properly intoxicated for as much of it as I could. As someone who usually liked to stay sharp and focused for business matters, this only highlighted just how backwards and bizarre this whole situation was.
Sure, this Hazel chick was hot. But she was also very likely insane. I refused to admit her good looks had anything to do with why this development was irking me more than usual. It probably had far more to do with all the financial stressors hanging over my head.
But maybe Pete was right. Winning her over by letting her think she won me over to her love of Christmas... if that was all it took to get us a positive media buzz going and peak the public’s interest in us again...I had to get it over with. How hard could it be anyway? Just fake a smile, like he said. Maybe sing a carol or two. Put a star