office where a man in a suit sat with his back turned to us.
“Mr. Palmer? Ms. Malone here for you...for the interview,” the grumpy woman announced.
“I thought you said Jack wasn’t…,” my words were cut off like a train running out of tracks when the man spun his chair around.
This guy was disarmingly good looking...enough to make my mouth drop. His thick wavy dark hair was slicked back into a perfect, debonair swoop. From there I noticed the sharp cut of his jaw, leading straight to the most delicious pair of plump, pink kissable lips. But they were pursed into something less than friendly...and his eyes were no more welcoming as they burned into me.
“Have a seat,” he sighed, already looking incredibly disinterested in my presence.
The woman ushered me in, practically shoving me, and was quick to slam the door shut behind me. The moment it slammed, it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Every nerve in my body tingled with a heightened awareness of being alone with this impossibly hot mystery guy, who I knew from photos was definitely not Jack Palmer.
I nervously made my way over to the seat across from his desk and tried to regain my composure. “There seems to have been some kind of misunderstanding. I was supposed to meet with Jack Palmer today. Everyone has told me he isn’t here.”
“You’ll be one of the first ones to hear it. He’s retiring. I’m his son, Chris Palmer. The interview will be with me.” He flicked open a button on his suit jacket and cleared his throat. He definitely wasn’t as thrown as I was, but it was immediately clear he wasn’t thrilled about any of this.
“Oh, okay. Well, Chris...Nice to meet you,” I mustered a smile, which he did not return.
I sat my bag down on the floor to fish out a pen and paper. It afforded me a few seconds to try and wrap my head around the whirlwind of developments.
“So, you’re taking over?” I started. “That’s an awfully big transition for such an important time of year. Have you been overseeing the annual Christmas display?”
“I am now...it seems.”
“Ah,” I nodded, thinking if he responded to everything so curtly, this interview was going to be like pulling teeth. “Well...I think I speak for many of NonPareil’s readers when I say that the Palmers window displays are a staple in any family’s holiday traditions in this city, and even beyond. Many families in surrounding areas make the trip in to see the grand reveal. How does it feel to be behind something so intrinsic to the holiday?”
He simply shrugged and replied, “I think you give it too much credit. We put on a big show, people come to see it. There’s really nothing more to it than that.”
“Nothing...more...to it,” I repeated slowly, trying to wrap my brain around his indifference. “I can’t say I agree.”
“Should we do a quick walk through of the display?” he barked suddenly, staring down the watch on his wrist. “I have a busy afternoon ahead and need to wrap this up. Surely you can understand the crunch for time.”
“Oh...absolutely,” I stammered, but he was already halfway out the door.
I struggled to keep up with him as he led me back down into the lobby in the same rushed fashion the woman had led me up just moments ago. It didn’t get any better once we were in front of the display. I wanted to stop and take it in, but he kept sprinting along with his big long legs while I scurried behind, attempting to scribble down the details of everything he spouted off.
He waved his hand and fired off bits of information about where different props had come from, how much they cost, and their origins.
“What was the inspiration for this year’s theme?” I managed to ask the first second I could get a word in.
“I’m afraid I can’t help you there,” he replied. “My father oversaw the plans with our team of designers.”
“Uh-huh...And is there any way I might still be able to meet with your father?” I resisted the urge to blurt out what I really wanted to ask...Is there any way I can talk to someone who seems to actually care about this stuff?
“Like I said, he’s retired.” He finally stopped, but the way he crossed his arms and stared me down...I thought I preferred it when he was power walking several feet in front of me.
“And...Chris? What are your