Snowdrop Kisses Part Four
A serialised holiday romance involving a plucky florist and a tall dark and handsome entrepreneur
Previously …in part 3 James confronted Wendy about the flower mix-up and runs into his old family friend, Harry Hepple.
Chapter 7
On Monday morning Wendy’s assistant, Vivienne, arrived at the store for her shift. Fifty years old, hair dyed a brash red; Vivienne was stuffed into a tight pair of purple snakeskin leggings, with a matching purple top. She didn’t bother with a “hello,” instead waving her phone at Wendy. “Guess what. Your obnoxious Crofton made the paper.”
“He’s not my Crofton,” Wendy replied. Saturday morning she’d given Vivienne a blow-by-blow of her encounter with the man, and then spent the whole weekend obsessing about the incident. She crossed the line when she’d made that crack about the mai-tais and she regretted her lack of professionalism. She didn’t regret her decision to cover for Kim, though. Given Crofton’s anger — she thought again of those icy blue eyes —he definitely would have fired his assistant.
Wendy took Vivienne’s phone. Sure enough, there was a grainy shot of Crofton, smiling into the camera. She tore her eyes from the photo and read the article. Apparently LCC was expanding, and Crofton was throwing a holiday party to celebrate. He was hosting it at his family estate, Stonehaven.
Vivienne pried the phone from Wendy’s fingers. She stared at the image critically. “Hmm. I guess you were right about Mr. Coffee being a looker. I’d almost be willing to give his snake-hearted gender another chance if I had a shot at hooking up with him.” Last year, after an unfortunate mini-putt date with an ass-grabbing vacuum salesman, Vivienne declared herself done with men. She was now working towards a Women and Gender Studies degree at Carleton University.
”Yeah, well, his personality doesn’t live up to his appearance.”
“It sounds like his party is going to be quite the shin-dig.” Vivienne read over the article. “He’s getting Ottawa’s top food, florists and music.”
“Who’s doing the flowers?” Wendy asked. Professional curiosity trumped personal antipathy, but Vivienne had put her phone down and moved to the worktable.
Much as she hated to admit it, Wendy found James Crofton sexy. Was she doomed to be forever attracted to womanizing jerks like Crofton and Martin?
Six months after she had broken up with Martin, Wendy had tried dating again, but there had been no spark with anyone. Since then her sex drive had been in park, but if someone as obnoxious as James Crofton could get her engine revving, she was obviously in need of a little tune up. Maybe she should consider dating again. Possibly this time she’d end up with a man who wasn’t a selfish, narcissistic jerk. It was the holidays, after all — the perfect time for a Christmas miracle.
Chapter 8
James was relieved to see Kim at her desk on Monday morning. “Thank God you’re back!”
“I was only gone for part of Friday.” Kim glanced up at him and her eyes widened.
James shifted self-consciously, she must have noticed he’d forgotten to shave this morning -- he only realised when he walked into the elevator and saw his reflection. Usually he prided himself on looking immaculate - a pulled together CEO indicated a company you could trust — none of those sloppy Silicon Valley Patagonia vests for him. Only this weekend had been such a nightmare, he was failing to meet his usual standards.
“A lot happened on Friday.” His voice was grim.
“What’s going on?”
“My silent partner is no longer silent and it’s Santa’s fault.”
“Santa?”
“Yes. Or at least a woman masquerading as him.”
Kim frowned at two nearby employees who were obviously eavesdropping. “Let’s move this to somewhere more private.” She ushered him into his office, closing the door and taking a seat opposite his desk. “Now, what’s this about Santa?”
He saw the look of concern in her eyes. “I’m not confused. It’s the damn florist.”
“Wendy Blake?” Kim looked surprised.
“She mixed up the bouquets on Friday.” He recalled Wendy standing in front of him, refusing to be cowed in the face of his anger. “She sent the one meant for Norah to Minna…”
Kim interrupted. “Wendy messed up the orders? Let me check.” She looked at her iPad and she bit her lip in consternation. “Oh, James, I was the one who mixed up the names when I sent the order over. My migraine had started. I’m so sorry.”
James swallowed hard, remembering his biting words. He’d been thinking about his encounter with Wendy all weekend, vacillating between righteous anger and worry that he’d gone too far. Now there was a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t enjoy guilt. “Don’t worry about it.” He forced a smile. It wasn’t his assistant’s fault. “Even ‘Super Kim’ is allowed a few mistakes. God knows I’ve made them.”
Kim stared at him. “Was it that bad?”
“I yelled,” he paused and looked shamefaced, “and was needlessly insulting. The thing is, she never said that you had made the mistake. That’s odd, right?”
Kim leaned forward.“I usually call in your orders, and we end up chatting on the phone. I consider Wendy a friend. Maybe she was protecting me.”
“I can see her sticking up for someone she liked.” The florist was certainly confident and not afraid to voice her opinion.
“That was really kind of Wendy. I owe her one.”
“I shouldn’t have yelled at her her. Send her a bottle of wine to apologize on my behalf.” He hesitated. It felt cheap, somehow, to download his apology duties to Kim. Shouldn’t he get in touch with Wendy and explain himself? The idea was strangely enticing. Then reason reasserted itself. The point of having a personal assistant was to get personal assistance in precisely these scenarios. “Anyway, knowing who made the mistake doesn’t help my current problem.”
“What’s going on?”
“When I took Minna out to lunch on Friday I tried to smooth her feathers. She was determined to take a more active interest in LCC, so I brought out the big guns and laid on the old Crofton charm.”
Kim rolled her eyes.
James didn’t notice. “She wouldn’t budge, though. She called me twelve times over the weekend. She’s going over our expansion plan with a fine-toothed comb. That would be great if she was familiar with the software industry, but her computer knowledge is zilch. She’s reading a book called Chips for Dips.”
Kim tapped her chin in thought. “She signed on as a silent partner. Why don’t you remind her of that. She’s over-stepping and needs to back down.”
“I would, but she’s very socially connected. She’s on a first name basis with every politician and journalist that matters in this city.”
“Well, that doesn’t necessarily —”
James interrupted her. “Her grand-nephew is Jacko Smythe.”
“The vlogger?”
James heard the dismay in Kim’s voice. “Exactly. He’s the one who told her to invest in us, but if she turns to him and starts complaining, he’ll use his platform to badmouth us across the industry.”
“And Catriona’s been working so hard on our marketing over the past couple of years,” Kim said.
“Exactly. She would kill me if I undid all of her communications’ work by pissing off such a prominent tech commentator.”
“Why is Minna so interested in the company? She doesn’t have any business experience.”
“I think she’s bored with all those retirees and their social twitterings. That’s why she’s tormenting me.”
Kim started to laugh. “’Tormenting’ might be a bit strong. She’s a little old lady.”
James stared at her, stony-faced. “Your amusement isn’t helping. What am I going to do about this? She’s invited me out to dinner to go over our business plan.”
Kim looked thoughtful. “You need to get her to lose interest in LCC.” Seeing James’ doubtful expression, Kim continued. “She’s divorced, right? You should introduce her to an eligible man. If her heart was occupied, her head would follow.”
“That’s your romance novels talking. Besides, what man do I know who would be interested in a strong-willed, acid-tongued old la…” James’ voice trailed away.
An image of a twirling cane floated before his eyes. Harry was single. He was lonely. He and Minna were about the right age. Sure, Kim’s idea was goofy , but the thing he valued most about his assistant was her emotional intelligence. She knew how people ticked and she was usually right. Maybe a distracted Minna would leave LCC alone. Maybe she and Harry would make a good match.
He frowned. Could he pull it off? Harry Hepple was a prickly customer who wasn’t easily manipulated. James didn’t have Kim’s emotional intelligence. Indeed, a girlfriend had once told him he had the sensitivity of a baked potato. He’d need help managing this. What’s more, as annoying as Minna was, he didn’t want to hurt Harry. He needed to proceed cautiously and sensitively. He needed reinforcements, someone who knew Harry and could help him navigate this thing with finesse.
He knew just the “dynamo” florist who could help. James straightened in his seat, tightening his tie. “This talk has been helpful. Now, can you find out what time that flower shop closes tonight? I’m going to go over there and apologize to the florist in person.”
Kim stared at him. “What about the Smythe problem?”
“I’ve figured out a way to solve everything in one go.” He recalled the oversized Santa hat slipping down over some wild curls. He couldn’t stop a grin from spreading across his face. “I’m pinning my hopes on Santa.”
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