Page 415 of The Parkers' Handsome Holiday
Chadwick wove through the bodies in the board room to stand behind his father’s chair. At six foot two, he was the tallest man in the room, and his curly dark brown hair that he wore casually slicked back gave the illusion of another inch and a half of height. Chadwick leaned forward and put his hands on his father’s shoulders and squeezed hard enough to see the material of Alastair’s suit bunch up.
Alastair turned his hazel eyes around the room—eyes his son had inherited—and smiled. “My colleagues and friends, I have an announcement I would like to make. I know many of you have known this was coming, but to some of you it might be a surprise to hear that I am retiring at the end of this year. This month will be my last at the company and here with you at Bamford Office Towers.”
A rumble of whispers rushed around the room.
I clutched my binder tightly to my chest.
What does this mean?
Alastair nodded in acknowledgment of the surprise and confusion. “I regret springing this on some of you, but rest assured, I leave you in the capable hands of my son.” He reached over one shoulder and patted Chadwick’s hand. I’d known for as long as I’d worked at the company that they had the sort of father-son bond many men envied. I also knew that they’d grown even closer after Alastair’s wife passed away.
Board members began asking questions one on top of the other, and Alastair held up a hand to quiet them down. “I understand that there will be many questions and concerns,” he said steadily, “and there is ample time to address such things. However, I intend to enjoy my last month here with you all. I will be stepping back effective immediately. This means that Chadwick will be spearheading the Christmas season and will be your point person. His assistant, Hugh…” Alastair trailed off as he peered around the room, trying to find Hugh Farlow amongst the faces. “Where is Hugh?”
Chadwick rubbed the back of his neck. “I might have sent him on an errand.”
Alastair didn’t ask follow-up questions. Sometimes with Chadwick that was the right call. Wherever Hugh was and whatever he was doing, it was unlikely related to work and more likely related to personal business of Chadwick’s.
In other words, a woman.
Or women.
“Please note that Hugh will be the middle person between yourselves and Chadwick for the month. If a matter is urgent, go to Chadwick. If you have time to wait, send the message through Hugh. You all know what is expected of you. Treat my son as you have treated me, and he will treat you as I have treated you, and business will carry on as per usual. Please note this change in leadership will not affect your year-end bonuses, which I have already signed off on and should be arriving via mail any day now.”
A chorus of thank-yous rippled around the room.
“Now,” Alastair said, and his usually downturned mouth curled upward in a conspiratorial smile, “there are conditions to Chadwick’s succession that I have not disclosed to him.”
Chadwick froze behind his father’s chair. “Come again? Conditions?”
Alastair nodded. “As you are all aware, I am a man who has built his success on seizing every possible opportunity presented to me. In this day and age, marketing is not what it used to be, and I know I can sometimes be out of touch, but I was hit with inspiration the other night when considering our holiday marketing campaign.”
Chadwick folded his arms over his chest. His suit jacket strained to contain him. He was, as Aleena had so eloquently put it just half an hour ago, a top notch stud. I’d wondered on more than one occasion about the body that lay beneath his bespoke suits.
“I don’t think I like where this is going,” Chadwick muttered.
“I do,” I chimed in. “Please continue, Mr. Bamford.”
Alastair leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “My son is going to be the face of the Bamford 2021 holiday season. There are twelve events this month, which Chadwick will attend appropriately dressed in costume and ready to mingle.”
Chadwick held up a hand and shook his head. “Hold on just a second. Costume?”
“You wear a costume every day,” I said. “You dress up like a guy who actually comes here to do work.”
The whole room, including Alastair, snickered.
“Cute, Tinsel. Real cute,” Chadwick grumbled.
“Don’t call me that,” I quipped.
Chadwick lifted a hand and used it to mock me by opening and closing his fingers as he said in a high-pitched voice, “Don’t call me that.”
I opened my mouth to retort, but Alastair silenced the room with a raised hand. “Yes, Chadwick. A costume. I’ve done it for thirty years, and now it’s your turn.”
Chadwick turned whiter than a ghost.
“Santa,” I breathed.
Alastair pointed across the board room at me. “That’s right, Ms. Miller. Santa Claus is a Bamford tradition. Every year I dress up and attend all the events in the Christmas spirit. This is my expectation of you, Chadwick. Wear the costume. Attend the events. Give the press interviews. Spearhead our marketing campaign and start your own legacy with the company on the right foot.”
