Christmas with Her Millionaire Boss
Auteur·e
Barbara Wallace
Lectures
18,9K
Chapitres
13
Chapter One
OH, WHAT FRESH hell was this?
A pair of ten-foot nutcrackers smiled down at him with giant white grins that looked capable of snapping an entire chestnut tree in half—let alone a single nut. Welcome to Fryberg’s Trains and Toys read the red-and-gold banner clutched in their wooden hands. Where It’s Christmas All Year Round.
James Hammond shuddered at the thought.
He was the only one though, as scores of children dragged their parents by the hand past the nutcracker guards and toward the Bavarian castle ahead, their shouts of delight echoing in the crisp Michigan air. One little girl, winter coat flapping in the wind, narrowly missed running into him, so distracted was she by the sight ahead of her.
“I see Santa’s Castle,” he heard her squeal.
Only if Santa lived in northern Germany and liked bratwurst. The towering stucco building, with its holly-draped ramparts and snow-covered turrets looked like something out of a Grimm’s fairy tale. No one would ever accuse Ned Fryberg of pedaling a false reality, that’s for sure. It was obvious that his fantasy was completely unattainable in real life. Unlike the nostalgic, homespun malarkey Hammond’s Toys sold to the public.
The popularity of both went to show that people loved their Christmas fantasies, and they were willing to shovel boatloads of money in order to keep them alive.
James didn’t understand it, but he was more than glad to help them part with their cash. He was good at it too. Some men gardened and grew vegetables. James grew his family’s net worth. And Fryberg’s Toys, and its awful Christmas village—a town so named for the Fryberg family—was going to help him grow it even larger.
“Excuse me, sir, but the line for Santa’s trolley starts back there.” A man wearing a red toy soldier’s jacket and black busby pointed behind James’s shoulder. In an attempt to control traffic flow, the store provided transportation around the grounds via a garishly colored “toy” train. “Trains leave every five minutes. You won’t have too long a wait.
“Or y-you could w-w-walk,” he added.
People always tended to stammer whenever James looked them in the eye. Didn’t matter if he was trying to be intimidating or not. They simply did. Maybe because, as his mother once told him, he had the same cold, dead eyes as his father. He’d spent much of his youth vainly trying to erase the similarity. Now that he was an adult, he’d grown not to accept his intimidating glower, but embrace it. Same way he embraced all his other unapproachable qualities.
“That depends,” he replied. “Which mode is more efficient?”
“Th-that would depend upon on how fast a walker you are. The car makes a couple of stops beforehand, so someone with...with long legs...” The soldier, or whatever he was supposed to be, let the sentence trail off.
“Then walking it is. Thank you.”
Adjusting his charcoal-gray scarf tighter around his neck, James turned and continued on his way, along the path to Fryberg’s Christmas Castle. The faster he got to his meeting with Belinda Fryberg, the sooner he could lock in his sale and fly back to Boston. At least there, he only had to deal with Christmas one day of the year.
* * *
“What did you say?”
“I said, your Christmas Castle has a few years of viability in it, at best.”
Noelle hated the new boss.
She’d decided he rubbed her the wrong way when he glided into Belinda’s office like a cashmere-wearing shark. She disliked him when he started picking apart their operations. And she loathed him now that he’d insulted the Christmas Castle.
“We all know the future of retail is online,” he continued. He uncrossed his long legs and shifted his weight. Uncharitable a thought as it might be, Noelle was glad he’d been forced to squeeze his long, lanky frame into Belinda’s office furniture. “The only reason your brick-and-mortar store has survived is because it’s basically a tourist attraction.”
“What’s wrong with being a tourist attraction?” she asked. Fryberg’s had done very well thanks to that tourist attraction. Over the years, what had been a small hobby shop had become a cottage industry unto itself with the entire town embracing the Bavarian atmosphere. “You saw our balance sheet. Those tourists are contributing a very healthy portion of our revenue.”
“I also saw that the biggest growth came from your online store. In fact, while it’s true retail sales have remained constant, your electronic sales have risen over fifteen percent annually.”
And were poised to take another leap this year. Noelle had heard the projections. E-retail was the wave of the future. Brick-and-mortar stores like Fryberg’s would soon be obsolete.
“Don’t get me wrong. I think your late husband did a fantastic job of capitalizing on people’s nostalgia,” he said to Belinda.
Noelle’s mother-in-law smiled. She always smiled when speaking about her late husband. “Ned used to say that Christmas was a universal experience.”
“Hammond’s has certainly done well by it.”
Well? Hammond’s had their entire business on the holiday, as had Fryberg’s. Nothing Says Christmas Like Hammond’s Toys. The company motto, repeated at the end of every ad, sang in Noelle’s head.
“That’s because everyone loves Christmas,” she replied.
“Hmm.” From the lack of enthusiasm in his response, she might as well have been talking about weather patterns. Then again, his emotional range didn’t seem to go beyond brusque and chilly, so maybe that was enthusiastic for him.
“I don’t care if they love the holiday or not. It’s their shopping patterns I’m interested in, and from the data I’ve been seeing, more and more people are doing part, if not most of their shopping over the internet. The retailers who survive will be the ones who shift their business models accordingly. I intend to make sure Hammond’s is one of those businesses.”
“Hammond’s,” Noelle couldn’t help noting. “Not Fryberg’s.”
“I’m hoping that by the end of the day, the two stores will be on the way to becoming one and the same,” he said.
“Wiping out sixty-five years of tradition just like that, are you?”
“Like I said, to survive, sometimes you have to embrace change.”
Except they weren’t embracing anything. Fryberg’s was being swallowed up and dismantled so that Hammond’s could change.
“I think what my daughter-in-law is trying to say is that the Fryberg name carries a great deal of value round these parts,” said Belinda. “People are very loyal to my late husband and what he worked to create here.”
“Loyalty’s a rare commodity these days. Especially in the business world.”
“It certainly is. Ned, my husband, had a way of inspiring it.”
“Impressive,” Hammond replied.
“It’s because the Frybergs—Ned and Belinda—have always believed in treating their employees like family,” Noelle told him. “And they were always on-site, visible to everyone.” Although things had changed over the last few years as Belinda had been spending more and more time in Palm Beach. “I’m not sure working for a faceless CEO in Boston will engender the same feelings.”
“What do you expect me to do? Move my office here?”
He looked at her. His gaze, sharp and direct, didn’t so much look through a person as cut into them. The flecks of brown in his irises darkened, transforming what had been soft hazel. Self-consciousness curled through Noelle’s midsection. She folded her arms tighter to keep the reaction from spreading.
“No. Just keep Fryberg’s as a separate entity,” she replied.
His brows lifted. “Really? You want me to keep one store separate when all the other properties under our umbrella carry the name Hammond?”
“Why not?” Noelle’s palms started to sweat. She was definitely overstepping her authority right now. Belinda had already accepted Hammond’s offer. Today’s meeting was a friendly dialogue between an outgoing owner and the new CEO, to ensure a successful transition. She couldn’t help it. With Belinda stepping down, someone had to protect what Ned had created. James Hammond certainly wasn’t. To hear him, Fryberg’s Christmas Castle was one step ahead of landlines in terms of obsolescence. She gave him two years tops before he decided “Hammond’s” Christmas Castle didn’t fit the corporate brand and started downsizing in the name of change. Bet he wouldn’t blink an eye doing it either.
Oh, but she really, really, really disliked him. Thank goodness the corporate headquarters were in Boston. With luck, he’d go home after this visit and she’d never have to deal with him again.
“Our name recognition and reputation are important elements to our success,” she continued. “All those people who line up to see Hammond’s displays every Christmas? Would they still remember to make the pilgrimage if Hammond’s suddenly became Jones’s Toys?”
He chuckled. “Hammond’s is hardly the same as Jones.”
“Around here it might as well be.”
“She makes an interesting point,” Belinda said. Noelle felt her mother-in-law’s sideways gaze. When it came to giving a pointed look, Belinda Fryberg held her own. In fact, she could probably do it better than most since she always tossed in a dose of maternal reproach. “While you may think our physical store has a limited future, there’s no need to hasten its demise prematurely. Maybe it would make more sense for Fryberg’s to continue operating under its own name, at least for now.”
Leaning back in his chair, Hammond steepled his fingertips together and tapped them against his lips. “I’m not averse to discussing the idea,” he said finally.
I’m not averse... How big of him. Noelle bit her tongue.
Her mother-in-law, meanwhile, folded her hands and smiled. “Then why don’t we do just that over lunch? I made reservations at the Nutcracker Inn downtown.”
“I don’t usually have lunch...”
No surprise there. Noelle had read once that sharks only ate every few days.
“Perhaps you don’t,” Belinda replied, “but for a woman my age, skipping meals isn’t the best idea. Besides, I find business always goes smoother when accompanied by a bowl of gingerbread soup. You haven’t lived until you’ve tried it.”
Either Hammond’s cheek muscles twitched at the word gingerbread or else they weren’t used to smiling. “Very well,” he said. “I have some calls to make first though. Why don’t I meet you at the elevator in, say, fifteen minutes?”
“I’ll see you there.”
Returning Belinda’s nod, he unfolded his lanky self from the chair and strode from the room. If only he’d keep walking, Noelle thought as she watched his back slip through the door. Keep walking all the way back to Boston.
“Well, that was a surprise.” Belinda spoke the second the door shut behind him. “I hadn’t realized you’d joined the mergers and acquisitions team.”
“I’m sorry,” Noelle replied. “But the way he was talking...it sounded like he planned to wipe Fryberg’s off the map.”
“You know I would never allow that.”
She hung her head. “I know, and I’m sorry. On the plus side, he did say he would consider keeping the Fryberg’s name.”
“Even so, you can’t keep getting angry every time he says something that rubs you the wrong way. This is Hammond’s company now. You’re going to have to learn to bite your tongue.”
She’d better hope Noelle’s tongue was thick enough to survive the visit then, because there was going to be a lot of biting.
“I just...” Starting now. Gritting her teeth, she turned and looked out the window. Below her, a school tour was lining up in front of the reindeer petting zoo, the same as they did every year, the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. Later on, they would make wish lists for their parents and trek over to the Candy Cane Forest to meet Santa Claus.
Her attention zeroed in on a little girl wearing a grimy pink snow jacket, the dirt visible from yards away, and she smiled nostalgically at the girl’s obvious excitement. That excitement was what people like James Hammond didn’t understand. Fryberg’s was so much more than a toy store or tourist attraction. When you passed through that nutcracker-flanked gate, you entered a different world. A place where, for a few hours, little girls in charity bin hand-me-downs could trade their loneliness and stark reality for a little Christmas magic.
A warm hand settled on her shoulder. “I wish things could stay the same too,” Belinda said, “but time marches on no matter how hard we try to stop it. Ned’s gone, Kevin’s gone, and I just don’t have the energy to run this place by myself anymore.
“Besides, a chain like Hammond’s can invest capital in this place that I don’t have.”
Capital, sure, but what about heart? Compassion was part of the Fryberg DNA. Noelle still remembered that day in sixth grade when Kevin invited her to his house and she felt the family’s infectious warmth for the very first time.
“I don’t fault you for wanting to retire,” she said, leaning ever so slightly into the older woman’s touch. “I just wish you hadn’t sold to such a Grinch.”
“He is serious, isn’t he?” Belinda chuckled. “Must be all that dour Yankee heritage.”
“Dour? Try frozen. The guy has about as much Christmas spirit as a block of ice.”
Her mother-in-law squeezed her shoulder. “Fortunately for us, you have enough Christmas spirit for a dozen people. You’ll keep the spirit alive. Unless you decide to move on, that is.”
Noelle tried for tongue biting again and failed. They’d had this conversation before. It was another one of the reasons Belinda sold the business instead of simply retiring. She insisted Noelle not be tied down by the family business. A reason Noelle found utterly silly.
“You know I have zero intention of ever leaving Fryberg,” she said.
“Oh, I know you think that now. But you’re young. You’re smart. There’s an entire world out there beyond Fryberg’s Toys.”
Noelle shook her head. Not for her there wasn’t. The store was too big a part of her.
It was all of her, really.
Her mother-in-law squeezed her shoulder again. “Kevin and Ned wouldn’t want you to shortchange your future any more than I do.”
At the mention of her late husband’s wishes, Noelle bit back a familiar swell of guilt.
“Besides,” Belinda continued, heading toward her desk. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll impress Mr. Hammond so much, he’ll promote you up the corporate ladder.”
“Him firing me is more likely,” Noelle replied. She recalled how sharp Hammond’s gaze had become when she dared to challenge him. Oh, yeah, she could picture him promoting her, all right.
“You never know” was all Belinda said. “I better go get ready for lunch. Don’t want to keep our Mr. Hammond waiting. Are you joining us?”
And continue bonding with Mr. Hammond over a bowl of gingerbread soup? Thanks, but no thanks. “I think Mr. Hammond and I have had enough contact for the day. Better I save my tongue and let you and Todd fill me in on the visit later.”
“That reminds me. On your way out, can you stop by Todd’s office and let his secretary know that if he calls in after the funeral, I’d like to talk with him?”
“Sure thing.”
Her answer was buried by the sound of the phone ringing.
“Oh, dear,” Belinda said upon answering. “This is Dick Greenwood. I’d better take it. Hopefully, he won’t chat my ear off. Will you do me another favor and give Mr. Hammond a tour of the floor while I’m tied up?”
So much for being done with the man. “Of course.” She’d donate a kidney if Belinda asked.
“And be nice.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
The kidney would have been easier.
* * *
“You’re not going to have an insubordination problem, are you?”
On the other end of the line, Jackson Hammond’s voice sounded far away. James might have blamed the overseas connection except he knew better. Jackson Hammond always sounded distant.
Struggling to keep the phone tucked under his ear, he reached for the paper towels. “Problem?” he repeated. “Hardly.”
With her short black hair and red sweater dress, Noelle Fryberg was more of an attack elf. Too small and precious to do any real damage.
“Only reason she was in the meeting was because the new general manager had to attend a funeral, and she’s the assistant GM.” And because she was family. Apparently, the concept mattered to some people.
He shrugged and tossed his wadded towel into the basket. “Her objections were more entertaining than anything.”
He’d already come to the same conclusion regarding the Fryberg name, but it was fun seeing her try to stare him into capitulation. She had very large, very soulful eyes. Her glaring at him was like being glared at by a kitten. He had to admire the effort though. It was more than a lot of—hell, most—people.
“All in all, the transition is going smooth as silk. I’m going to tour the warehouse this afternoon.” And then hightail it back to the airstrip as soon as possible. With any luck, he’d be in Boston by eight that evening. Noelle Fryberg’s verve might be entertaining, but not so much that he wanted to stick around Christmas Land a moment longer than necessary.
“Christmas is only four weeks away. You’re going to need that distribution center linked into ours as soon as possible.”
“It’ll get done,” James replied. The reassurance was automatic. James learned a long time ago that his father preferred his world run as smoothly as possible. Complications and problems were things you dealt with on your own.
“If you need anything from my end, talk with Carli. I’ve asked her to be my point person while I’m in Vienna.”
“Thank you.” But James wouldn’t need anything from his father’s end. He’d been running the corporation for several years now while his father concentrated on overseas and other pet projects—like his new protégé, Carli, for example.
Then again, he hadn’t needed his father since his parents’ divorce. About the time his father made it clear he didn’t want James underfoot. Not wanting their eldest son around was the one thing Jackson Hammond and his ex-wife had in common.
“How is the trip going?” James asked, turning to other, less bitter topics.
“Well enough. I’m meeting with Herr Burns in the morning...” There was a muffled sound in the background. “Someone’s knocking at the door. I have to go. We’ll talk tomorrow, when you’re back in the office.”
The line disconnected before James had a chance to remind him tomorrow was Thanksgiving. Not that it mattered. He’d still be in the office.
He was always in the office. Wasn’t like he had a family.
* * *
Belinda was nowhere in sight when James stepped into the hallway. Instead, he found the daughter-in-law waiting by the elevator, arms again hugging her chest. “Belinda had to take a call with Dick Greenwood,” she told him.
“I’m sorry” was his automatic reply. Greenwood was a great vendor, but he was notorious for his chattiness. James made a point of avoiding direct conversations if he could.
Apparently, the daughter-in-law knew what he meant, because the corners of her mouth twitched. About as close to a smile as he’d seen out of her. “She said she’ll join you as soon as she can. In the meantime, she thought you’d like a tour of the retail store.”
“She did, did she?” More likely, she thought it would distract him while she was stuck on the phone.
Noelle shrugged. “She thought it would give you an idea of the foot traffic we handle on a day-to-day basis.”
He’d seen the sales reports; he knew what kind of traffic they handled. Still, it couldn’t hurt to check out the store. Hammond’s was always on the lookout for new ways to engage their customers. “Are you going to be my guide?” he asked, reaching across to hit the elevator button.
“Yes, I am.” If she thought he missed the soft sigh she let out before speaking, she was mistaken.
All the more reason to take the tour.
The doors opened, and James motioned for her to step in first. Partly to be a gentleman, but mostly because holding back gave him an opportunity to steal a surreptitious look at her figure. The woman might be tiny, but she was perfectly proportioned. Make that normally proportioned, he amended. Too many of the women he met had try-hard figures. Worked out and enhanced to artificial perfection. Noelle looked fit, but she still carried a little more below than she did on top, which he appreciated.
“We bill ourselves as the country’s largest toy store,” Noelle said once the elevator doors shut. “The claim is based on square footage. We are the largest retail space in the continental US. This weekend alone we’ll attract thousands of customers.”
“Black Friday weekend. The retailers’ best friend,” he replied. Then, because he couldn’t resist poking the bee’s nest a little, he added, “That is, until Cyber Monday came along. These days we move almost as much inventory online. Pretty soon people won’t come out for Black Friday at all. They’ll do their shopping Thanksgiving afternoon while watching TV.”
“Hammond’s customers might, but you can’t visit a Christmas wonderland via a computer.”
That again. He turned to look at her. “Do you really think kids five or six years from now are going to care about visiting Santa Claus?”
“Of course they are. It’s Santa.”
“I hate to break it to you, but kids are a little more realistic these days. They grow fast. Our greeting card fantasy holiday is going to get harder and harder to sell.”
“Especially if you insist on calling it a fantasy.”
What should he call it? Fact? “Belinda wasn’t kidding when she said you were loyal, was she?”
“The Frybergs are family. Of course I would be loyal.”
Not necessarily, but James didn’t feel like arguing the point.
“Even if I weren’t—related that is—I’d respect what Ned and Belinda created.” She crossed her arms. Again. “They understood that retail is about more than moving inventory.”
Her implication was clear: she considered him a corporate autocrat who was concerned solely with the bottom line. While she might be correct, he didn’t intend to let her get away with the comment unchallenged.
Mirroring her posture, he tilted his head and looked straight at her. “Is that so? What exactly is it about then?”
“People, of course.”
“Of course.” She was not only loyal, but naive. Retail was all about moving product. All the fancy window dressing she specialized in was to convince people to buy the latest and greatest, and then to buy the next latest and greatest the following year. And so on and so forth.
At that moment, the elevator opened and before them lay Fryberg’s Toys in all its glory. Aisle upon aisle of toys, spread out like a multicolored promised land. There were giant stuffed animals arranged by environment, lions and tigers in the jungle, cows and horses by the farm. Construction toys were spread around a jobsite, around which cars zipped on a multilevel racetrack. There was even a wall of televisions blasting the latest video games. A special display for every interest, each one overflowing with products for sale.
“Oh, yeah,” he murmured, “it’s totally about the people.”
A remote-control drone zipped past their heads as they walked toward the center aisle. A giant teddy bear made of plastic building bricks marked the entrance like the Colossus of Rhodes.
“It’s like Christmas morning on steroids,” he remarked as they passed under the bear’s legs.
“This is the Christmas Castle, after all. Everything should look larger-than-life and magical. To stir the imagination.”
Not to mention the desire for plastic bricks and stuffed animals, thought James.
“Santa’s workshop and the Candy Cane Forest are located at the rear of the building,” she said pointing to an archway bedecked with painted holly and poinsettia. “That’s also where Ned’s model train layout is located. It used to be a much larger section, but now it’s limited to one room-size museum.”
Yet something else lost to the march of time, James refrained from saying. The atmosphere was chilly enough. Looking around he noticed their aisle led straight toward the archway, and that the only way to avoid Santa was to go to the end, turn and head back up a different aisle.
He nodded at the arch. “What’s on the other side?” he asked.
“Other side of what?”
“Santa’s woods or whatever it is.”
“Santa’s workshop and Candy Cane Forest,” she corrected. “There’s a door that leads back into the store, or they can continue on to see the reindeer.”
“Meaning they go home to purchase their child’s wish item online from who-knows-what site.”
“Or come back another day. Most people don’t do their Christmas shopping with the kids in tow.”
“How about in April, when they aren’t Christmas shopping? They walk outside to see the reindeer and poof! There goes your potential sale.”
That wouldn’t do at all. “After the kids visit Santa, the traffic should be rerouted back into the store so the parents can buy whatever it is Little Susie or Johnny wished for.”
“You want to close off access to the reindeer?”
She needn’t look so horrified. It wasn’t as though he’d suggested euthanizing the creatures. “I want customers to buy toys. And they aren’t going to if they are busy looking at reindeer. What’s that?”
He pointed to a giant moose-like creature wearing a Santa’s hat and wreath and standing to the right of the archway. It took up most of the wall space, forcing the crowd to congregate toward the middle. As a result, customers looking to walk past the archway to another aisle had to battle a throng of children.
“Oh, that’s Fryer Elk, the store mascot,” Noelle replied. “Ned created him when he opened the store. Back in the day, he appeared in the ads. They retired him in the eighties and he’s been here ever since.”
“He’s blocking the flow of traffic. He should be somewhere else.”
For a third time, James got the folded arm treatment. “He’s an institution,” she replied, as if that was reason enough for his existence.
He could be Ned Fryberg standing there stuffed himself, and he would still be hindering traffic. Letting out a long breath, James reached into his breast pocket for his notebook. Once the sale was finalized, he would send his operations manager out here to evaluate the layout.
“You really don’t have any respect for tradition, do you?” Noelle asked.
He peered over his pen at her. Just figuring this out, was she? That’s what happened when you spent a fortune crafting a corporate image. People started believing the image was real.
“No,” he replied. “I don’t. In fact...” He put his notebook away. “We might as well get something straight right now. As far as I’m concerned, the only thing that matters is making sure Hammond’s stays profitable for the next fifty years. Everything else can go to blazes.”
“Everything,” she repeated. Her eyes narrowed.
“Everything, and that includes elks, tradition and especially Chris—”
He never got a chance to finish.
