Page 18 of Bad Boy Bachelor Christmas
I whistled. “Wow. And they come to you to help them with the trees and décor for the fundraiser, which isn’t on Christmas Eve?”
“Precisely. It’s a high-end party for their clients with deep pockets. They donate, and their money goes to good use on Christmas Eve.”
Suddenly I felt very glad that I hadn’t gotten cold feet and bailed. I wanted to be involved in something like this, portfolio aside.
North abruptly got to his feet. “Here they come. The older gentleman is Norman Cuthbert, and the other two are his children, Michael and Dana. Soak up everything you can. And remember, no talking. Let me handle this. They like knowing what to expect.”
“Uh huh.” I sipped my coffee, rose to stand, and squared my shoulders. I wished I didn’t feel like such a pipsqueak beside him.
Norman and his adult children swept into the room with easy smiles and friendly greetings. It became quickly obvious to me that they had all worked together many times in the past, and this pitch was a shoo-in—more about checking off boxes than worrying about securing their business.
Everyone took their seats. I piped up and offered to pour coffees. North shot me a dark look because apparently even that was considered too much talking for his books, but our three clients thanked me and accepted the offer.
While I poured the coffee and North made small talk with Norman, I gave him anI told you solook. He ignored me.
“Where’s Marge?” Norman asked, looking around as he leaned back with his coffee and took a sip. He had an easy way about him, not the sort of demeanor I usually associated with a lawyer. He looked like he was enjoying a friend’s company in their living room rather than a business partner at an office. “Tell me you don’t have her running around like a chicken with her head cut off.”
North chuckled and shook his head. “No, nothing like that. She retired, actually. This is her temporary replacement, an intern from the University of Oregon.” He gestured in my direction. “Winter Dodson.”
Norman gave me a curt, polite nod. “Nice to meet you, Winter. No offense, but we were really banking on Marge’s keen eye and skill this year, North. No detail goes unnoticed under that old bird’s watchful eye, and we have some seriously elite clientele coming to the party this year. You wouldn’t believe the cases we’ve represented and the growth our business has seen. Great for the firm of course, but we want this party to be better than all the ones that came before it.”
I felt a flutter of nerves in my stomach.
How was I supposed to pull that off as a total rookie operating outside my wheelhouse?
North seemed unfazed. “Marge passed down her legacy of talent. Rest assured, you’re in as good of hands as ever, Norman. We won’t let you down. Now,” he clasped his hands together and leaned forward, “tell me what you want, and we’ll zero in on a theme and pin down the scope of the project. Winter?”
I perked up with excitement at the invitation into the conversation. “Yes?”
“Pay attention.”
CHAPTER9
NORTH
Eye catching.
Sparkly.
Refreshing.
Bold.
Those were some of the adjectives Norman used as he went on a tangent about what sort of party he wanted to host for his firm’s clients. Beside him, his daughter, Dana, nodded along enthusiastically before putting a hand on her father’s wrist and leaning forward to interject.
“Basically what’s happening with our business,” she began, “is that we’re shifting into a totally new landscape of clientele. It was unexpected, but very welcome, and all our partners and employees are reaping the benefits. We want this party to be an expression of gratitude to our clients, and a way to show them where a chunk of their money goes when they work with us. As you know, the haven on Christmas Eve is deeply special to my family and I, and to everyone we work with. We want this party to show that without hitting them over the head with it. Does that make sense?”
Sort of.
Suddenly, Winter piped up beside me. “It makes perfect sense. You want to capture a feeling and invite people into a tradition your firm has established over the last fifteen years.” That tidbit of information indicated she’d been reading the package in front of her while Norman and I discussed details. I could appreciate that. What I did not appreciate was her stepping on my toes and answering for me when I explicitly told her to keep her mouth shut during the meeting.
In nicer terms, of course.
She continued talking, ignoring the prickly stare I shot in her direction. “When I was a kid, my mom used to put a laundry basket under our Christmas tree. It stayed there for the first week of December, and it was my job to go through my things—toys, clothes, you name it—and pick items to donate. There were rules, of course. I couldn’t get rid of things just because I didn’t want them anymore. I had to be thoughtful about it. I had to consider what items might bring joy or comfort to another child who had very different holiday experiences than me. It’s a tradition I want to pass down to my future kids one day because I think it taught me a lot about taking care of my things and knowing the value of a toy doll or race car.”
Dana listened with twinkly eyes. Michael topped off their coffees. Norman nodded along.
She had their attention like she was giving them a sales pitch, but this wasn’t that.
