with the Angels, and I agreed to assist them with this issue,” Cindy replied smoothly, offering him her hand.
“Are you in town for long?” he asked.
A devilish glint sparked in her eyes. “Just for the night.”
Just for the night were four of his favorite words.
He held her hand for an extra second, and the woman drew her tongue across her top lip.
Yep, this one was a vixen for sure.
“We’re here for the night, too. We’ll head back to Vermont tomorrow,” Agnes Angel said, ending his handshake with the attorney when she thrust a red box tied with a green bow toward him.
“What is this, Mrs. Angel?” he asked, passing the item to Janine.
“Chocolate peppermint cupcakes! They’re our top seller this time of year. We thought that if you tasted them and got to meet us, you’d see that you simply can’t close all of our bakeries,” the woman replied warmly with one hell of a Mrs. Claus vibe.
He stole a glance at their vixen of a lawyer who gave him a resigned shrug. She had no skin in the game. Her family must have put her up to this. A good thing to know because this meeting wasn’t going to end well for her clients.
He gestured toward the conference table. When everyone was settled in their chair, he steepled his fingers and glanced between Ernie and Agnes—still thrown by the Santa factor. But it didn’t matter if Ernie resembled Kris Kringle, Elvis, or Peter Pan, their bakery business was over.
“Unfortunately, your company is failing,” he said as plainly as he could.
He wasn’t one to sugarcoat anything—not even for a pair of pleasant old people.
“It was heart-wrenching, but we closed a few of our bakeries across Colorado and Wyoming. We chose you specifically to help us,” Agnes said, smiling sweetly.
He assessed the woman. It was no wonder the company was in shit shape. She and her husband didn’t get it.
“We did help you, Mrs. Angel. Rudolph Holdings invested in your company. We gave you a generous injection of cash. You, in turn, promised to increase your profits by forty percent. You didn’t. You lost money.”
“But Cupid Bakery was started with love,” Agnes offered.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Is that right?”
The damn origin story.
Why the hell did people think good intentions meant anything when it came to business?
“Oh, yes! When I saw Agnes for the first time, it was like Cupid’s arrow hit me straight in the heart,” Ernie Angel replied.
“And Cupid’s a reindeer, just like Rudolph!” Agnes exclaimed.
He released the bridge of his nose. The last thing he wanted was to be compared to a fucking reindeer. What the hell kind of Frosty the Snowman, chestnuts-roasting-on-an-open-fire bullshit logic was that?
“None of those things change your fiscal outlook,” he said, starting to get a little freaked out by how they continued to smile at him.
Their business was over. There was no saving this company.
“Mr. Rudolph, Cupid Bakery is the cornerstone of every city where we have a location. We routinely give back to the community. With our bakeries across the country, we’re a lifeline to food pantries. We believe in charity,” Mr. Angel continued.
Soren leaned forward and held the man’s gaze. “And I believe in profits. Guess what wins in the real world?”
The couple shared a knowing glance, but the smiles never left their faces.
“That’s a very naughty list type of attitude. You should taste one of my cupcakes, Mr. Rudolph. That would bring some joy into your heart,” Mrs. Angel replied.
Naughty list attitude? No wonder they’d lost a boatload of money. These two were nuts.
“Mr. Rudolph,” Ernie Angel began, “would you consider an extension? There has to be something we can do to turn this around.”
Soren glanced over at Janine, who replied with the hint of a nod. This woman had been trying to thaw his frosty demeanor for years. Why she thought for even a second that he was going to turn over a new leaf left him speechless.
He was who he was—a Rudolph who was the furthest thing from a benevolent red-nosed reindeer.
“It’s just the two of you running the business, correct?” he asked the couple.
“Yes, Agnes and I do everything. Our children worked in the bakery when they were younger, but none of them expressed any interest in continuing on with the family business.”
“So, there’s no succession plan?” he asked, catching the attorney’s eye.
“No, the Angels still operate the company as they did back in the eighties,” she replied, then glanced at her polished nails.