The Men Who Make Christmas

The magic of Christmas…

Abandoned by his mother on Christmas Day, James Hammond wishes he could simply erase the date. So when his company buys a new toy store devoted to Christmas, he wants to seal the deal and get home. Until he finds himself injured and under the care of employee Noelle!

Nobody loves Christmas more than young widow Noelle Fryberg! But could she be the one to change his mind and melt the millionaire’s guarded heart?

About the Author

BARBARA WALLACE can’t remember when she wasn’t dreaming up love stories in her head, so writing romances for Mills & Boon is a dream come true. Happily married to her own Prince Charming, she lives in New England with a house full of empty-nest animals. Readers can catch up with Barbara through her newsletter. Sign up at www.barbarawallace.com

Christmas with Her Millionaire Boss

Barbara Wallace

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-06041-7

CHRISTMAS WITH HER MILLIONAIRE BOSS

© 2017 Barbara Wallace

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

EPILOGUE

About the Publisher

For Peter and Andrew,

who put up with a stressed-out writer

trying to juggle too many balls at one time.

You two are awesome, and I couldn’t ask

for a better husband and son.

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.