Chapter 17

Wednesday, December 4

Three Weeks Until Christmas

Lights twinkled everywhere, but they didn’t lift Mike’s spirits. He estimated it would take a truckload of lights to make a dent in his present mood. Even Jim pointing out the number of people who’d bought tickets for the Christmas shows failed to alleviate his concerns. The hope Thanksgiving had kindled was slipping through Mike’s fingers with every passing second.

We’ll never get this place ready to open again.

We just don’t have the money.

Not that he shared these morose thoughts. That wouldn’t have been right, not when everyone was pulling out all the stops to bring them closer to their increasingly impossible goal. Take the small army of teenagers who’d covered the walls—and themselves—with paint, for instance. Mike had been floored by how much they’d achieved in one weekend, and another such workday had been planned for Saturday.

Elliott said it wasn’t so much decorating as Paintball.

Mike stood by the door of the bar, gazing out at the drifts of snow covering the landscape, hiding the grey surface of the road.

I’m sorry, Nick, but I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.

“There’s tea in the lobby if you want some,” Ashley called out from the theater. She and Jim had been getting the space ready for Phil’s recital that afternoon.

“In a sec.” He had to smile. Ashley had told him once that her grandma was a firm believer in tea as a cure-all. She has to be a Brit. Mike went downstairs to check on the club space, making sure all was ready for its next influx on Friday night.

He gazed at the glitter ball that sent shards of light dancing over the walls. When the place was full, it got a little claustrophobic, not that Mike was into dancing all that much.

Sam teased him that his sole purpose in going down there was to ogle, and Mike had laughed and replied, And your point is?

Sam had nothing to worry about. Mike intended getting hot and sweaty with only one guy.

He went back upstairs and out onto the porch, taking care to walk carefully because of the ice. The lobby was warm, thanks to the fire roaring behind the grate. He stopped in surprise at the sight of the whole gang.

“Why aren’t you all out doing things?” he quipped. “This looks like a town meeting.” Then his throat seized when his remark didn’t raise so much as a smile.

“That’s because it is—kinda,” Anthony began. “We figured it was about time we had a little chat.”

Mike’s heart sank. Seems as though I’m not the only one who’s lost hope . And if they were about to dash all his hopes, he really didn’t want to hear it.

He pointed to Jim’s garish holidays sweater, done in red and green, with images of holly, reindeer, Santa, and gifts topped with a red bow. “I didn’t think I’d see you in something like that. I thought you were a man of good taste.”

Jim chuckled. “Which I am—usually. I saw this in my closet this morning, and I guess it kinda spoke to me.” His face tightened. “I didn’t wear it last Christmas. It… it was a present from Nick.” Then he froze. “Well fuck. Look who didn’t get the message the first time. I thought we’d seen the last of him.”

Mike followed Jim’s gaze to where Ben Sharp stood peering through the glass.

Great. That’s all I need today. Then he stilled. Maybe that’s exactly what we need.

He got up and walked toward the door. “Let’s hear what he has to say.”

“We already know that part,” Ashley protested.

Mike ignored her and opened the door. “Ben. Come in.”

Ben looked a little different. He’d lost the suit and was dressed in jeans, a thick coat, and a long red scarf. His boots were covered in snow, and he stomped on the mat.

His gaze flickered to the tea pot on the table. “I wouldn’t say no if there’s a cup going. It’s freezing out there.”

Ashley glared at him. “Usually guests wait to be invited.” Her eyes gleamed. “Oh wait, that’s right. We didn’t invite you.”

Mike fired her a warning glance before giving Ben his attention. “What can we do for you?”

“I’ll come straight to the point.” Ben glanced at his surroundings. “I notice you haven’t announced when the hotel will re-open. I can guess why that is. The survey didn’t make for pleasant reading, did it?”

Mike froze. “And how would you know the contents of that survey?”

“It was a fair bet who’d carry it out—there’s only one civil engineer around here who conducts inspections. I just happen to have a source there.” Ben straightened. “But I digress. I’m here to make you a very handsome offer for the Velvet House, one that will make all your financial headaches a thing of the past.”

“You’re assuming Mike wants to sell.” Sam’s voice was low and firm.

Ben glanced at him. “He’d be a fool not to.” He met Mike’s gaze. “And you don’t strike me as a fool. You’ve rallied the town around you, so my sources tell me. But classes and workshops won’t even scratch the surface of what you need, and if you were honest, you’d admit that you know this is a lost cause.”

Ashley pulled her phone from her pocket, got up from the couch, and wandered over to the front desk. She disappeared behind it.

Mike didn’t have time to wonder what she was doing. He was too busy digesting Ben’s words. They left a sour taste in his mouth, but most medicine did that, right?

He sighed. “What are you offering?”

Ben beamed. “I knew you’d see sense. I’m prepared to pay you six million dollars. And in case you have ideas of asking for more, that will be my final offer.”

Mike swallowed.

Six million dollars?

I could pay back everyone who’s contributed.

The hotel would receive a fantastic makeover. Nick’s dream wouldn’t die.

Except Nick’s dream had also involved Mike.

Before he could come up with a response, Jim bounced to his feet.

“It’s not for sale.”

Mike blinked. What the fuck?

Ben arched his eyebrows. “But this is none of your business. This is Mike’s property, right? So this is Mike’s decision.”

“That’s Mr. O’Neill to you,” Sam ground out. “And he isn’t interested.”

“And the hotel will re-open,” Anthony affirmed. “But not as one of your properties.”

Ashley came back into the lobby and walked over to the door.

Mike blinked as Patrick Murphy entered. “Officer? Is there a problem?”

Patrick gave him a puzzled glance. “I hear you folks are the ones with the problem. Ashley said something about someone harassing you?”

Mike gaped at her. You did what? he mouthed.

She shrugged. “False alarm, Pat. Sorry I wasted your time.”

Jim indicated the door. “And we won’t waste any more of yours, Benjamin . Thanks for stopping by, but the answer is still no.” He gazed at Mike. “You’d give him his marching orders too, if you were in full possession of the facts. Which you will be, once we’ve had our chat.” He gave Mike a beseeching glance.

What the hell is going on around here?

Mike knew one thing—he trusted his friends.

“Thanks, Ben, but it looks like you’ve had a fruitless visit. Safe trip back to Boston, or wherever it is you came from.”

Ashley gave him a sweet smile. “If you need suggestions of places to go, I might have a few.”

Ben’s eyes glinted, then he drew himself up to his full height. “If you want to have this millstone around your neck, then more fool you.” He strode out onto the lobby.

“Would it be too much to hope for that he slips on the ice and breaks something?” Elliott muttered.

“I vote for his nose,” Jim said with a grin.

Patrick put his hands on his hips. “Ashley, did you just use me to help you get rid of that guy?”

She pinked. “Maybe? What if I promise to make it up to you this evening, when you’re not on duty?”

A flush rose up Patrick’s neck, staining his cheeks. “I guess it was a false alarm after all.” He bit his lip. “Pick you up at six? Dinner at my place?”

She grinned. “I’ll bring my toothbrush and that minty mouthwash you seem to like so much.”

He coughed. “Good day, everyone.” Then he hurried out of the lobby.

As soon as the door closed behind him, Mike turned to face them. “Will one of you tell me what’s going on?”

“Sit down, Mike.” Sam led him to the couch.

“Here, have some tea.” Elliott poured him a cup.

“And one of Ellen’s cookies,” Anthony added.

Mike glared at them. “Start talking. Tell me why you just let six million dollars go walking out that door. Because he was right. That would have solved all our problems.”

“And given Ben Sharp a toe in the door,” Ashley flung at him. “No one around here wants that.”

“Not to mention that you’d have Nick rolling in his grave—if he had one.” Anthony glanced at Sam. “You can tell him.”

Sam pushed out a sigh. “We’d better come clean.” He cleared his throat. “We set up a crowd-funding project, to raise money for the supplies— just the supplies—and then shared the link on the town’s Facebook page.”

“ After we checked you hadn’t joined it yet,” Jim added.

“And before you got the results of the survey,” Elliott said.

Mike was momentarily lost for words. “You shouldn’t have done that. It makes us look as though we’re holding out a begging bowl. Hasn’t Elliott’s money box already sent out that message?”

“But that was for change ,” Elliott stressed. “You needed a hell of a lot more. And it wasn’t begging. We asked for donations of any size—even if that was five dollars—from anyone who knew Nick.”

“It was Harry’s idea,” Anthony informed him. “We just took it and ran with it.”

“Please, don’t be angry with us,” Sam pleaded. “We know how much it means to you to get this place up and running. Harry just thought this would give you a head start.”

Mike couldn’t argue with them, not when they’d acted out of love.

“I guess I’m not really mad at you. And whatever it raises, no matter how small, it’ll go toward the bill for the supplies.”

Elliot smiled. “But this is why we’re telling you now. We set an initial goal of ten thousand dollars. We passed that the day after Thanksgiving.”

“What?”

He nodded. “We can’t believe it either. The donations just keep rolling in.”

“How many donations?”

“About two thousand people so far.” Sam smiled. “And counting.”

“So what we’re trying to say is… You don’t need Ben Sharp’s money. Granted, we’d never raise six million, but you don’t need that much.” Jim’s face glowed. “This way, we have enough to refurbish the hotel—including paying for the bathroom supplies and getting someone in to install it all, plus everything else that needs doing—and have it up and running by Christmas.”

“More importantly, it’s what Nick would’ve wanted.” Anthony’s voice cracked.

Mike’s throat seized, and tears pricked his eyes. He held his arms wide. “Come here, all of you. I’m calling for a group hug.”

Four men and one woman crowded around him, and Mike was swamped in a wave of affection.

He sent up a silent message.

Nick, wherever you are? Thank you for my new family.

“You can move now.”

Elliott stretched his arms high above his head. “Am I allowed to look?”

Stephan chuckled. “Usually I make the model wait until I’m finished, but as it’s you…” He crooked his finger. “Come take a peek.”

He hopped off the stool he’d posed on, and strolled over to the easel. After three sessions, he’d gotten comfortable around Stephan, and he had no qualms about walking around the studio naked.

His relaxed attitude wasn’t all to do with feeling at ease. Elliott kept hoping the sight of him would stir something in the artist.

He certainly stirs something in me.

In fact, something was stirring that very second.

Elliott went to stand in front of the easel, and he caught his breath. “That’s… that’s how you see me?”

“Why? What’s wrong with it?” Concern laced Stephan’s voice.

Elliott jerked his head to stare at him. “Oh, there’s nothing wrong with it. You just made me look so…”

“So what?”

He smiled. “Beautiful.”

Stephan shuddered out a sigh. “You had me worried for a minute.” He gazed at the canvas. “But you are , you know.” When Elliott gave him an inquiring glance, Stephan returned his smile. “Beautiful.”

“Funny.” Elliott’s heart thumped. “I think the same thing every time I look at you.”

Stephan’s eyes widened. “Really?”

He chuckled. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Before Stephan could answer, Elliott seized every ounce of courage he possessed, wrapped his fingers around Stephan’s wrist, and guided his hand to Elliott’s burgeoning erection. “ That’s what you do to me,” he whispered.

A heartbeat later, Stephan curled his fingers around Elliott’s stiffening cock and gave it a slow pull, then let go. “I know what I’d like to do to you,” he croaked.

Elliott grinned. “Does it involve you losing your clothes?”

“It might.” Stephan pointed to the day bed in the corner of the studio. “It might also involve that.”

Better and better.

“You haven’t noticed yet, have you?” Stephan rolled his eyes. “I thought you were more observant than that.”

“Noticed what?”

Stephan pointed upward, Elliott followed the movement—and laughed.

“Mistletoe? And how many men have sat under it, waiting to be kissed?”

“Only you.” Stephan smiled. “So does that mean you want to be kissed?”

Elliott looped his arms around Stephan’s neck and moved closer. “What do you think?” Their lips met, and Elliott was aware of body heat and hardness. “Can I be practical for a second? Do you have any preferences as to who does what?”

Stephan’s eyes twinkled. “None whatsoever. I’m very… versatile.”

Elliott leaped up, locking his arms and wrapping his legs around Stephan. “Best news I’ve heard in a long time.”