Chapter 11

Eleven

I t was a stupid thing to fixate on, but she couldn’t help herself.

Why didn’t the landlord offer her the chance to come back for the seasonal events?

Every year, the vendors for the holiday events changed. Daphne had been fortunate enough to be invited back so many times. But this year was her best one yet and she couldn’t understand why she was suddenly being excluded.

She’d called the property manager’s office and left a few messages, but no one called her back. Then she called the landlord directly and was told he was in a meeting so she had to leave a message there too. Basically, she was getting nowhere and it was bugging her.

Unable to take it any longer, she called her friend Sara. She’d been in court so much lately, but Daphne thought maybe she’d luck out and catch her on a break.

“Hey, Daph! This is a surprise! What’s up?”

“Oh my goodness! Is this a bad time?”

“We have the day off today. Finally,” she said with a laugh. “I’m trying to get caught up on my life—you know, laundry, groceries, paying bills—nothing exciting. So, what’s going on with you?”

“I know you haven’t been in the office a lot in the last month or more—but…” Then she explained about the other girls getting invited to participate in the upcoming seasonal shops. “I don’t get it. I thought I’d be a shoo-in and yet suddenly I’m the odd man out! I know you have a decent relationship with the landlord and all the property people; can you maybe find out what happened? If I did something wrong, I’d love to apologize for it.”

“Of course! Although I can’t imagine you doing anything to upset anyone. That’s just not who you are. I’m sure it’s all a misunderstanding. Let me make some calls and see what I can find out. Are you at the office today or are you baking?”

“Baking.” She was up to her eyeballs in unfrosted cupcakes and really needed to focus, but until she knew where she stood, she was going to be distracted. “You’re going back to court tomorrow?”

“I am, but I’ll be swinging by the office first. Any chance you can box up a four-pack of muffins for me and the team?”

“No problem!”

“Okay, let me make some calls and I’ll call you back!”

“Thanks, Sara!” Once she hung up and felt like she had a little hope, she got to piping frosting onto the cupcakes while four trays of muffins finished baking. It was crazy to think her friend was going to get answers right away, but Daphne was optimistic that it wouldn’t take too long.

Fifteen minutes turned into thirty.

Thirty minutes turned into an hour.

All the while, she continued to bake.

One hour turned into two.

Three trays of caramel coffee cake, eight dozen muffins, and fifteen dozen sugar cookies later, her phone rang.

“Finally!” Wiping her hands, she picked up the phone. “Hey! I hope you’re calling me with some answers!”

Sara let out a long breath. “Oh, I definitely have answers, and I’m ready to meet you at the office tomorrow to kick some serious ass!”

“That doesn’t sound good. What did you find out?”

“You didn’t get asked to come back because of an excessive number of complaints against you,” Sara said carefully.

“ What?! Are you serious? How? Who? Why hasn’t anyone talked to me about this?”

“Darryl—the landlord—said he was going to come and talk to you, but you have a contract until the end of December. He figured once that was up, they just wouldn’t ask you back.”

“But that’s crazy! Who’s complaining?”

“That miserable architect guy on the twenty-eighth floor! Darryl said he complained that first week you were there and then he was quiet for a while, but in the last week or so, he said the guy’s practically been bombarding him with complaints. He said he even called him over the weekend about it!”

“That…I don’t…” It didn’t make sense. Tristan complaining that first week totally fit because he threatened to do just that. But recently? There was no explanation for that.

Which is what she told Sara.

“Tristan and I have been dating for almost a month, Sara. There’s no way he would have been calling the landlord and complaining about me. Hell, I’ve been catering all of his family’s holiday parties. There has to be some mistake.”

“First of all, wow. I can’t believe I missed all of that happening!” Sara said with a small laugh. “I thought the two of you hated each other! That’s why it all made perfect sense when Darryl said it was him.”

“I’m sure they’re mistaken. Tristan wouldn’t do that to me.”

“Daph, I’m going to say something, and you need to hear me out.”

“Um…okay…”

“Maybe Tristan was being nice because he needed your help. Maybe he’s genuinely that miserable guy who was giving you grief back at the beginning of November. And didn’t you say he was always kind of rude to you all the other years you had your booth set up with us?”

“He was, but I can’t imagine him going to such extremes just to get me to cater for his family. I mean…I know I’m good, but…would someone really resort to sleeping with me just because I’m a baker?” She snorted with laughter. “Think about it, Sara. That’s the craziest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“Look, all I’m saying is it’s possible. Guys like that do whatever it takes to get what they want.” Pausing, she mumbled a curse. “I’m sorry. That was incredibly insensitive of me.”

“No, no…you have a point.”

“Let me call Darryl back and see if he can send me copies of the complaints, okay? Maybe you’re right. Maybe there’s been a mistake. I’ll call you right back.”

“Thanks, Sara.” This time when she hung up, Daphne felt like she was going to be sick. Could Tristan be that awful? Could she have been so blind and gullible? And all of this over some baked goods? Really?

The wait wasn’t nearly as long this time. When the phone rang fifteen minutes later, her hands shook when she picked it up. “Well?”

“I forwarded you the emails he had,” Sara explained. “I’m so sorry, Daph. If there’s anything else I can do…”

Tears stung her eyes. “Thanks. I’ll let you know.” After letting out a long breath, she said, “I’ll see you in the morning with muffins.”

“Sounds good. And my offer to kick someone’s ass still stands.”

Daphne whispered another thanks before hanging up. Her stomach churned as she stared down at the screen and tapped on her emails. There were four attachments with emails from Knight Architects, all signed by Tristan, and all complaining about what a nuisance she was. One of them even threatened to move Knight’s office to another building just to prove a point.

“Well that’s just excessive,” she mumbled.

Then her heart sank.

Everything had been a lie.

Every kiss, every touch, every conversation…all of it.

Including his apology.

“Hey, sweetie!” her mother cheerily called out as she came in through the kitchen door. “Look! I got us some gorgeous poinsettias! Aren’t they amazing? I thought they’d make a nice touch for…” She paused when she spotted Daphne. “Oh, baby. What happened? Are you okay? You’re crying!”

Daphne hadn’t even realized it until her mother pointed it out. And then the entire story came out—the fake dating, the real feelings, the fight, the apology, and…the emails. “Mom, what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to face him tomorrow?”

“You should march down to his office right now and tell him you’re on to him! Tell him he’s an awful human being and make him talk to the landlord so you can get your spot back! How dare he ruin that for you!”

But she was already shaking her head. “I don’t want the spot now. There’s no way I ever want to see Tristan again after the holidays are over. If I didn’t have so many orders, I’d consider breaking my contract and not even going back. But I won’t do that to my customers. They shouldn’t have to suffer because Tristan Knight is an inconsiderate and awful human being.”

“I just…it doesn’t make sense, Daphne. No one’s that good of an actor. He genuinely seemed to care about you.”

“Cared about the sex,” she mumbled.

“Okay, okay…we don’t need to talk about that. I know you’re not a virgin, but I also don’t need for us to talk about your sex life.”

“Believe me, I’m good with that.” Sitting down on the nearest stool, she sighed. “You know the worst part? I was falling in love with him.” She snorted. “What a fool I am. No one changes that much overnight.” Another sigh. “At least I did the right thing and made all of those parties amazing. No one can accuse me of being a bad person. Tristan, on the other hand…”

Her mother walked over and hugged her. “I’m so sorry, Daphne. I hate seeing you so upset. What can I do?”

It would have been easy to sit there and wallow in self-pity. But like she said, she had a lot of customers who were counting on her. So, she pushed all her sadness aside and focused on her baking calendar. “I got a good start on the menu for the week. All the muffins and cupcakes are done, and so are the coffee cakes and sugar cookies. We need to start on the chocolate chip ones and the peanut butter ones next. Can you work on those while I go and splash some cold water on my face?”

“Take all the time you need. We’re going to get through this.”

Somehow, she didn’t think it was possible, but she also knew that she didn’t have a choice. Once she washed up, she put on her favorite playlist of Christmas songs, cranked up the volume, and let out some of her frustrations by smashing a five-pound bag of candy canes.

It was oddly therapeutic, especially since she envisioned Tristan’s face with every smash.

“The most wonderful time of the year, my ass…”

Things didn’t go exactly as planned.

Tuesday morning arrived faster than Tristan was prepared for. He had made arrangements for flowers to be delivered—poinsettias since they were so festive, and he thought they would delight Daphne—and he was going to have her lunch delivered.

Last night, he felt confident in the way things were going to go, but when he arrived at work this morning, everyone was giving him the stink eye.

Everyone.

The look Daphne shot at him as he walked by was openly hostile.

What the hell happened?

The entire ride up in the elevator, he tried to think about what he could have possibly done to have an entire office building mad at him. When he stepped out on the twenty-eighth floor to a furious looking Faye, he knew he was about to get his answer.

“How could you, Tristan?” she demanded.

Loudly.

“How could you be so deceitful? And so…so…hateful? What is wrong with you?”

He didn’t appreciate her tone, so he continued to walk to his office. “Why is the music on so loud? It sounds like a Christmas concert in here!”

Faye was hot on his heels, and when he placed his satchel down on his desk, she was hovering right beside him. “The music’s on because it’s Christmas week and we knew it would bother you. We’ll see how you enjoy being harassed!”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Tristan let out a huff of annoyance. “Need I remind you that I’m the boss here? If my staff wants to harass me, then they can all find other jobs!”

“Believe me, we’re all talking about it!”

Okay, now he’d had enough. Storming over and slamming the door, he faced her. “Can you please tell me what the hell is going on? What did I do?” he demanded.

“Seriously? You’re going to play dumb? You reported Daphne to the landlord, Tristan! She’s never going to be invited back here for the holiday shop or any of the new seasonal shops he’s implementing, and it’s all your fault!”

“Reported her…? Faye, I sent one email that first week she was here! There’s no way Darryl would be that petty and exclude her over it. And how do you even know this?”

“All the other vendors downstairs got the invitation for the new seasonal thing except for Daphne. Apparently she was very hurt over it and made some inquiries and found out you’re the reason!” With a snort of derision, she glared at him. “You seduced her to get your way even as you were going behind her back and sabotaging her business. You are seriously the worst.”

“ What?! Now I seduced her and sabotaged her? Is that what everyone thinks?”

“It’s what everyone knows .” Shaking her head, she made a tsking sound before making her way toward the door. “I’m disgusted with the whole situation. I knew you could be ruthless, but I never thought you’d do something like this. I’m ashamed to work here.” And with that parting shot, she stormed out, leaving him standing there in total shock.

It was a toss-up as to who he should speak to—Daphne or the landlord—but he opted to go down and see Daphne first.

As he stormed out of his office and toward the elevator, Faye called out, “Haven’t you done enough? Leave that poor girl alone!”

And he heard several people murmuring about how despicable he was.

Awesome.

If he wasn’t in such a hurry, he’d stand there and argue, but he had to go downstairs and explain to Daphne that this was all a misunderstanding. Everyone who got on and off the elevator shot him nasty looks and it took everything he had not to say anything. The only person he needed to talk to was Daphne.

In the lobby, he made a beeline for the gingerbread house. One of the giant candy canes looked like it had fallen and was propped up and some of the fake snow she had on the roof was now on the floor. The poinsettias were definitely going to perk things up, but perhaps tonight, after everyone was gone for the day, he’d come down with a toolkit and fix things.

Naturally, there was a line of people getting their muffins and cookies to start the day. If she sold coffee, she’d definitely make enough money to start her bakery.

So not the time to be thinking about this…

Stepping onto the back of the line, Tristan did his best to smile at everyone and act like everything was fine. The person in front of him, however, had a little something to say.

“You know, it takes a lot of courage to start a business—especially around the holidays. But every year, Daphne comes here and works toward her goal. We all love and appreciate her and you’ve ruined it.” She sneered. “And now you’re going to stand in line and buy something from her? What kind of a sociopath are you?”

Sliding his hands into his pockets, he did his best to look unbothered. “I’m not a sociopath, and there has been a grave misunderstanding. I’m going to talk to Daphne and straighten it all out. Trust me, she’s not going anywhere.”

“You better make this right. There’s already a petition started to get you thrown out of the building.” And after a muttered, “Jerk,” she turned her back to him.

It took a solid ten minutes before he was finally at the counter and a small crowd had gathered to watch whatever was going to happen.

The defiant stance and the angry glare coming from Daphne weren’t enough to deter him. Placing his hands on the counter, he quietly said, “Good morning. May I have a word with you? Privately?”

“If you’re not ordering anything, then you need to step aside. I have real customers waiting,” she said flatly. He’d never heard that tone of voice from her before, and now that he took a moment, he noticed she wasn’t wearing one of her holiday or winter-themed tops. There was no bow in her hair.

“I’d really like to talk to you,” he urged.

“And I have paying customers who’d really like to get their food and not be late for work.”

“Okay. Fine.” Turning to the person behind him, he asked, “What would you like to order?”

“Excuse me?” the woman asked.

“I’d like to buy you breakfast. What would you like? A muffin? I highly recommend the blueberry ones. Or maybe some coffee cake?”

She eyed him warily before saying, “A chocolate chip muffin, please.”

Smiling, he turned to Daphne, handing her his credit card. “One chocolate chip muffin please. But…hold the card. I’ll buy breakfast for the rest of the people in line.”

And he did.

All twenty-seven of them.

Greedy gawkers, he thought. Most of them had already purchased their food and were just making him pay for more. But he didn’t mind because if it meant they’d all leave and go to work, it was worth it.

By the time everyone finally left, almost an hour had gone by. “Okay, it looks like you are almost sold out of everything. Now, can we please talk?”

Daphne was silent—just a hard glare as she crossed her arms.

“Look, there seems to be a misunderstanding. I emailed the landlord once—which I told you about—at the beginning of last month. I have not contacted him since. Now…I’m sorry that I ever even did that, but you have to believe me, whatever’s being said, it’s not true!”

For a moment she didn’t say anything, but then she stepped forward and he braced himself.

“For a smart guy, you’re pretty stupid. There’s a paper trail, Tristan,” she hissed. “The landlord forwarded all your emails and his assistant said there were multiple voice messages too. Don’t stand here and insult my intelligence. You used me and now you’re finally getting what you want; you won’t have to look at my tacky little gingerbread house ever again!”

“No! That’s not…I didn’t send any other emails except the one and I’ve never called and left any messages about you! I’m telling you; it wasn’t me!”

“Oh, so someone else working for Knight Architects pretended to be you and complained about all the things you’ve publicly said about me? Pfft …just stop, okay? The damage is done. You won. Happy now?”

This was getting him nowhere. Both hands raked through his hair as he growled with frustration. “I’m going to prove that it wasn’t me,” he said confidently, although that was the very last thing he was feeling. “I’m going to talk to Darryl and get this all cleared up. I promise!”

He was about to say more, but the dozen poinsettias he had ordered for her showed up.

“Oh my goodness! Look at these!” she said happily to the delivery couple. “What a surprise! Is there a card?” And as she stepped out of the booth and began inspecting them, all he could think was…

Oh God…there is a card…

She found it.

She read it.

She glared at him.

Tristan swore she was going to send them back, but she didn’t.

“Thank you for bringing them in,” she said to the drivers. “Have a joyous holiday!” Once they were gone, she tore the card up and tossed it right in his face.

At least she was keeping the plants.

It was a minor victory, but there wasn’t time to savor it because apparently he had some calls to make.

Four calls and multiple emails later, Tristan felt utterly defeated. Somehow, someone sent the emails and even though he had his IT guys working on it, he wasn’t overly optimistic. On top of that, Darryl’s assistant said she would try to get him an accurate log of the calls they supposedly received from him.

“This is unbelievable,” he murmured.

A knock on his door had him looking up and seeing his father standing there.

Inwardly groaning, he forced himself to get up and greet him.

“Dad! This is a surprise. What brings you here?”

Dan Knight looked around his son’s office before walking over to the sofa and sitting down. “I hear you’ve got our IT guys working on something. Is everything okay?”

Was his mess of a life the only thing people talked about?

“Someone’s using my name to make trouble for Daphne,” he admitted before sitting down across from his father. “There are some emails and voicemails sent to the landlord—all in my name—complaining about Daphne. Now everyone in the building thinks I’m an ogre and is blaming me for her getting thrown out.”

“Did you complain about Daphne?”

“Once,” he said miserably. “It was the first week she was here and we didn’t have a great interaction and…”

“You reacted like a pompous ass.”

“Hey! What the hell, Dad?”

“Tristan, you’re a wonderful son, but you’ve got lousy people skills sometimes. You’re so focused on yourself and your business that you appear to be very abrasive to those around you. Most of the time, it can be brushed off, but I hope now you realize the repercussions that can happen.”

“Okay, yeah. I do realize it. But in this case, I’m completely innocent. One email almost two months ago isn’t the same as multiple emails and voicemails. I’m telling you, it’s someone else.”

“Did you talk to Daphne about it?”

Nodding, he explained. “I did, but the evidence is pretty damning. She’s devastated and…and it took all that was magical out of her. She’s down there looking like a shell of her usual self, and I hate it.”

Frowning, his father shook his head. “I don’t understand any of this. I thought you were crazy about her. The way the two of you have been with each other since we first met her at your Christmas party…it just seemed like you really had feelings for her.”

“I did. I do! But…that first party it was all for show,” he mumbled.

“What do you mean?”

So, Tristan explained how they started “dating.”

“She did me a favor because I didn’t want to disappoint you and Mom. I kind of bulldozed over her plans and her objections, and…convinced her to help.”

“I see.”

The silence that followed became awkward.

“Are you happy, Tristan? With your life?”

“Not at the moment, no.”

With a patient smile, Dan relaxed a little more against the cushions. “I mean in general. Daphne mentioned some things you were passionate about and I could tell it made you uncomfortable. What I don’t understand is why.”

“Dad, please. This isn’t the time for this conversation. I’m in a bit of a crisis here and…”

“And you have people working on it. Sitting here worrying isn’t going to change anything.”

“But maybe I can help! Maybe there’s something I can do!”

“Apparently, you’ve done enough.”

The snort was out before he could stop it. “I made a mistake! A as in singular! Everything else is…is…” Jumping to his feet, he shouted, “I’m bored with my career! I’m tired of building…buildings! I want to design something different! Something inspiring! Something that has nothing to do with what my grandfather and his grandfather built! There’s nothing wrong with being different, Dad! Our future as a company doesn’t have to look the same as the past. And our path to change doesn’t have to be…traditional!”

Then he waited for his father to argue with him, but he didn’t. “O-kay…explain that.”

Ugh…me and my big mouth…

“I’ve designed a couple of houses—just a handful—and I loved all the details and figuring out a design that was for a specific person. Designing family homes where I know the kids like movies or basketball and designing spaces just for them. Or knowing that a family has not only one set of parents living with them, but adult children and making sure everyone has their own space. It’s called Multi Gen living and I’m fascinated by it!” Pacing, he went on. “Then I look at something silly, like Daphne’s ridiculous gingerbread house, and I think of all the ways I can make it better and customize it to specifically fit her needs for the business. She needs more shelves and storage and room to move around.”

“Tristan, it’s not like she’s working in that space full time. This is a seasonal thing.”

“That doesn’t mean it can’t be better, Dad. It would definitely have to be portable—something that can be assembled and disassembled—and yet be fully functional. And she can’t be the only small business owner who needs a space like that. Maybe not in the form of a gingerbread house, but…maybe something equally creative and ridiculous!”

A slow smile crossed his father’s face. “I don’t think I’ve seen you like this in a long time.”

“That’s because I haven’t felt like this in a long time. I spend so much time comparing myself to everyone else in the family and trying to keep up that I’m not enjoying my work anymore.”

“Comparison is the thief of joy. You shouldn’t put that kind of pressure on yourself.”

“I can’t help it,” he said, finally feeling like he could breathe. “I listen to the way you praise everyone for their accomplishments, and you never do that for me.”

“That’s not true…”

“It is,” he interrupted. “It is. I feel like I’m killing myself to get a damn building here in downtown because everyone else has a building in their city, and when the plans got postponed again, I had to ask myself why I was so upset.” His hands dropped to his side. “It’s because I dreaded telling you.”

Dan slowly got to his feet. “Then I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “I didn’t realize all the pressure I was putting on you by simply not telling you what a great job you’re doing. Maybe if I had, you wouldn’t be working so hard to threaten innocent small business owners.”

“Oh, good Lord…I didn’t threaten anyone, Dad! Haven’t you been listening? Honestly, I feel like no one’s listening to me!” Just then, his phone rang and he practically dove to get it. “It’s Steve from IT,” he said before looking up at his father.

“Hopefully he’s calling to give you good news. Go ahead. Answer it.”

Nodding, he did just that. “Hey, Steve. What did you find?”

“I wish I had better news for you, Tristan. It’s not good.”

Bah-freaking-humbug.