Page 5 of Merry with a Grumpy Boss

“One way to find out.” Odette dropped a handful of pamphlets and led the way to the laptop behind the front counter. “Let’s Google him.”

“Guys, we have at least three hundred more bags…” Ginger gave up, following Willa Leigh to stand behind Odette. They looked over her shoulders as she typed in H-A-Y-W-O-O-D H-O-L-L-O-W-A-Y.

Odette gave a low whistle as Ginger read aloud, “…one of the oldest families in Charleston…leading members of society…family name besmirched by affairs and divorce…proudly announce the engagement of Haywood Leon Holloway to Margo Juliette Abernathy.”

“Look!” Willa Leigh pointed excitedly to a photo of six perfectly attired adults along a spiraling grand staircase fronted by an enormous evergreen swathed in gold ribbon and silver ornaments. “Mr. and Mrs. Thaddeus Holloway and their four children—Johnston, Samantha, Patrice, and Haywood—hosting their annual Christmas Eve fete.”

“So much for his troubled childhood.” Ginger couldn’t explain the disappointment she felt after learning Haywood came from old money and had been raised with privilege.

Or maybe it was the fact he was engaged.

“There’s more.” Odette clicked the image of a stunning blonde in a haute couture bridal gown holding a bouquet of orchids. “…Margo Abernathy…exchanged vows at the William Aiken House on August 1stwith Johnston Dupree Holloway…”

“What? Check the dates, Odette.” Shock and sympathy vied for attention as Ginger scanned the captions. “Somehow his fiancée ended up marrying his brother?”

“That explains a lot.” Willa Leigh sounded ready to bake a casserole for the man. Classic comfort food for anyone dealing with a tragedy. “I’d be extra grumpy if Kobe dumped me and married my sister.”

“You don’t have a sister,” Odette pointed out dryly.

“If I did.” Willa Leigh turned wide eyes on Ginger. “At least there’s a plausible reason for the man’s behavior. He had the woman he loved stolen away from him. By his brother. That’s a double dose of betrayal.”

“You’re making a lot of assumptions.” Ginger seated herself on a metal stool. “Maybe Johnston and Margo met, took one look at each other, and realized they were destined to be soulmates. Haywood nobly stepped aside for the sake of true love. Now he’s here to make my life miserable because he’s an entitled snob who never had to stuff plastic bags or sell donuts or raffle off a date with a hot fireman to raise money for domestic abuse survivors or kids’ athletics or strays.”

Her statement reminded all of them what was at stake if the Jingle Bell Festival lost its sponsorship. Convincing Haywood to embrace the spirit of Christmas wasn’t about converting a holiday-hater; it could mean the difference in thousands of dollars that helped hundreds of people—and animals—in crisis.

“Okay. I’m in.” Ginger reached for a notepad and pen. “Ladies, what’s step two in The Plan to Convert Haywood Holloway from Scrooge McGrinch to Mister Christmas?”

3

“Is that dog wearing antlers?” Haywood stared at the tan and beige mutt sitting in the doorway to Ginger’s office. The pitiful way his head drooped, eyes looking up as is asking, “What did I do to deserve this?” resonated with how Haywood felt this morning.

What had he done to deserve this aimless existence? Hopping from job to job because nothing fulfilled him. Nothing inspired joy or excitement. Nothing was a challenge. The executive positions he’d accepted since leaving Holloway Holdings last December were little more than fancy titles with few, if any, actual duties. At least the job Dayton hired him for had a definitive purpose. His findings could make or break the company. Ultimately, Dayton and his board of advisors would make that decision, but the information Haywood reported back had to be accurate.

Damn. The solitude that came with the remote beach house where he was staying gave him too much time to think. He was questioning everything about his life, each string of thoughts leading to the same existential question: Why was he here?

Having spent the weekend tossing and turning, he’d counted on burying himself in paperwork to keep the bothersome thoughts at bay. Instead, he was face to face with a sad dog decked out in felt antlers.

“You and me both, buddy.” He broke off a piece of the croissant he’d picked for breakfast with his coffee from Caffeine Beach and offered it to the dog. The mutt sniffed then gently tugged it from his fingers. “Good boy.”

His first impulse was to tell Marietta, or whoever brought the dog in, to get rid of the beast. Animals didn’t belong in furniture showrooms. But this guy was already having a rough day. No need to make it worse.

“His name is Max.” Ginger appeared out of nowhere, startling him. He dropped the croissant, fully expecting the dog to snatch it up in one bite, but he just sat there, a hopeful look lighting his expression.

“Go on, get it.” Haywood sighed. He could hike back to the coffee shop or grab something from the goody basket next to the coffeemaker in the conference room. Goodies supplied by Ginger, which meant there was a good chance of encountering something in the shape of a stocking or snowman tasting of cinnamon. God, the woman certainly had an obsession with that one spice.

“What’s on the agenda this morning?” She smoothed her hair behind one ear, the loose waves falling like silk to just below her shoulders. In green tailored slacks and a white silk blouse that draped flatteringly over the swell of her breasts, the kitschy Christmas lightbulb necklace and earrings seemed more fun than frivolous.

“Analyzing tax records,” he replied, distracted by the way the shiny ornaments peeked between strands of hair.

“I have a better idea.” She smiled, bright teeth dazzling him into a true state of befuddlement.

Giving his head a little shake to dislodge the wayward thoughts, he sipped his coffee. Weird, he thought. It still tasted like cinnamon, even though he’d ordered a black medium roast.

“Since you’re going to be here a few months, let me show you around. There are some folks in Love Beach you should meet.” She took a step closer, not quite invading his personal space but creating a cocoon of privacy around them. “It will be helpful when you make your recommendations to the company’s new owner.”

“I don’t see how?—”

“Indulge me, Mr. Holloway.” She shrugged, each glazed piece of glass reflecting the overhead lights, making it seem like stars danced around her head and shoulders. “We didn’t get off to a positive start last week, and I’d like to make it up to you. Give me a do-over. It won’t take long to tour Love Beach, and I promise to share the locals’ favorites. Some of the places on the edge of town cater more to the tourists.” Her voice dropped as is confiding with a conspirator.

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