Chapter Three

Bo

the present

I looked into the rearview mirror and Santa, er, Jesse something-or-other, caught my eye. Averting his gaze, I looked down again. I already knew why he was dressed like Santa—apparently, he was going to the children’s hospital after dropping me off—but what I couldn’t figure out was what made this man so happy.

Did the townspeople here always look this happy? Sure, the last time I was here I learned these people had more pep in their step than people in the city, but this was next level. I’d been looking out the window on our short drive from the train station, and every single person I saw walking around had a smile on their face.

Yeah, it was Christmastime, but was that any reason to be this jolly? If anything, I’d swear it was the exact opposite. The reason of all reasons to be, well, unhappy. I shook my head, decidedly not interested in knowing what was up with these people and turned my attention back to the article I was reading online.

It was about me.

Naturally.

And it made my skin crawl.

Again, naturally.

Just listen to this line: “When Bo walked into the room, there was a chill that ran through the air and as his dark brown eyes met mine, it was obvious he was a man who demanded attention. Like no matter what he did, there was no way he could be identified as a wallflower.”

Sure, I voluntarily went along with the interview—and by voluntarily, I meant was all but forced into it by my father—but sitting down to talk with some writer for a blog was never my idea of good press. I believed good press were the pieces that were picked up discussing the good we were doing as a company, not talking about me. No, that was never good in my opinion. But my father felt differently.

Anyway, if you thought that was bad, just get a load of the rest of it: “Indeed, Bo Grant possessed the same great presence as his father, Robert Grant, who I had the distinct pleasure of meeting a few months ago at a charity event. Bo had the same looks as his father, the same unruly dark brown hair, and strong jawline. Only, Bo’s full beard gave him an edge his father didn’t have.

“It’s no surprise this man is about to take over one of the biggest conglomerates in New York City. Remember, you read it here first: Robert Grant is retiring in the new year and Bo Grant, his only heir, is taking over. The company will still hold the respectable Grant & Co. name but will have a new generation at the helm.

“When asked if he’s ready to take on such a responsibility, Bo commented, ‘It’s what I’ve been working toward my whole life.’ Needless to say, this handsome man is about to become the Big Apple’s most eligible bachelor. Don’t send your letters to Santa quite yet, ladies, because this sexy man is going to need a woman and if you’ve been nice, maybe Christmas will come early for you.”

What did that even mean?

I closed the screen on my phone and flipped it over on the seat next to me, not able to look at it anymore. I couldn’t read another word of it. Wasn’t it bad enough that I was here in Silver Springs, North Carolina, population of— oh, what was it again? —about sixteen hundred, at Christmastime, for my friend’s wedding? And now my assistant had to send me all the links to articles I’d been featured in? Who in their right mind wanted to read about themselves like that? Certainly not me. I exhaled and closed my eyes, my head leaning back against the headrest.

Besides, didn’t Mirna remember I was on a vacation? I was taking the last break I’d be afforded before the new year when I stepped into my role as CEO and I was supposed to be helping my best friend—my only friend, Louie—get married.

How much longer until we got where we were going, I wondered.

“So what brings you to Silver Springs?” Jesse asked casually, interrupting my thoughts.

It occurred to me that I could say I was here just ‘cause. Or for a good time. But what made it a good time, really? The musty, exhaust-filled smell of his old jalopy? The fact that more people lived on my block in New York City than in this town? Nope, I couldn’t say any of that.

I raised a brow when my eyes came across a half-eaten bag of potato chips sitting on his dashboard. “Personal reasons,” I answered simply, not sure I wanted to say more. What business was it of his anyway?

Not that he probably didn’t already know about the wedding. I had a feeling the whole town knew. Heck, they were probably all invited. But I still wasn’t divulging.

He gave me a weak shrug and went on driving with one hand on the wheel as he brushed his fingers through his long, white beard that would impress a mountain man. I was all for facial hair—if a man could grow it out, then he should. I mean, just look at me, I had a beard of my own. But there was also such a thing as too long and thick, like when-a-crumb-falls-and-you- can’t-find-it-for-a-few-days long. That was how Jesse’s beard was. And it wasn’t a rental that came with the Santa suit.

“You sticking around for the tree lighting?” Jesse tried again to make conversation, cranking his window down and placing one red velvet-clad arm out the side of the car.

I rubbed the back of my neck and hoped this ride would be over sometime soon, preferably before I pulled my hair out. “There’s a tree lighting?” Who was I kidding, of course there was.

“It’s been going on for as far back as I can remember. Way before I came into town when I was just about your age.” Then he paused before questioning, “How old are you?”

I fought the urge to groan. I was in no physical pain, so the groan would probably be unnecessary, but talking about the holidays was painful enough to warrant it. I also leaned my elbow on the window, realizing it was probably better to engage in this idle chit-chat than wait for him to come to a stop. “Thirty-two.”

He nodded. “Yeah, I was about your age when I came to town.” Then he guffawed. “You know, there are lots of ladies in this town about your age. Single, in fact, and would jump at the chance to be with a big city slicker like yourself.”

Great, and I was here for a wedding and everyone knew what that meant—single women looking for a date.

How I desperately hoped he was wrong. My mind suddenly started reeling with images of women standing in line for a sale on meat, only I was the meat being served up. That was a nightmare I didn’t want to think about for another second. “Oh,” I said, “I doubt that.” I’d learned a long time ago that women just didn’t migrate to me the same way they did other men. It hurt when it first hit home, but I’d learned quick enough that I was just fine with that.

I rolled up my shirtsleeves. While it may have been below fifty degrees out there, in this old beaten-down car it was starting to feel stifling. “Anyway, about this tree lighting,” I started, hoping he’d pick up that thread again.

Turned out between talk of Christmas and dating, I chose the former.

Yeah, even I was surprised by that one.

“You should make sure to stick around for it,” Jesse said, nodding his head like a bobblehead, his eyes on me in the rearview mirror again.

He should only know I didn’t think I had much choice in the matter. The wedding was Christmas Eve, so I’d be here for it all. Unfortunately.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Definitely, looking forward to it,” I lied. “But if I had it my way, I wouldn’t be here more than the day,” I mumbled under my breath.

Jesse shook his head and began rolling to a stop. “Why do I get the sense you’re not?” Then he clarified, “Looking forward to it, that is. You look like you could use a little Christmas spirit.”

Man, I knew there was something I forgot to pack. That was right, I left my jar of Christmas spirit on my dresser. Geez, next time I’d have to be more mindful about carrying it with me.

“I’m good, thanks.” When he came to a complete stop, I furrowed my brows. This wasn’t the bed and breakfast where I was staying. “Why are we stopping in front of a coffee shop?” I looked at my watch. I was hoping to check in before Izzy got wind of me being in town. Once she heard, I had a feeling I wouldn’t get any peace. She was like Ms. Wedding and I could only handle her in small doses.

He shut off the car, but left the key in the ignition and opened the door, got out, then went to close it behind him.

“Um, you left the key in the car,” I alerted him quickly.

He waved his hand in the air as he shut the door, as though to say no big deal. Where I came from it was a huge deal, but if he wanted to be so careless, then that was his problem, not mine.

I opened the door and shouted, “You never answered my question.”

“Thought it was obvious,” he jested, knocking on the roof. “I’m going to get a special cup o’ Joe.”

“Now? I thought you were driving me to the bed and breakfast and you had somewhere to be.” I got out of the car and slammed the door shut behind me. That was when I read the sign outside the shop and saw they were offering gingerbread lattes. “Is that what we’re here for?” I asked, pointing to the sign.

He nodded.

“You can’t get that after you drop me off?”

“No can do. They’re only serving them up for a limited time and only in the morning hours. That means every morning until Christmas I’ll be here ordering myself a gingerbread latte.”

Was this man for real? Before I could say another word, he was opening the door and heading in. Great, just great.

“Might as well order a cup of coffee,” I muttered to no one in particular, cursing the fact that I let myself get dragged into this situation where I had to be in this town straight out of a Christmas card.

Thank you, Louie.

I opened the door when I heard teeth chattering behind me. A young girl, no older than sixteen, came up to the side of me. “Do you mind?” she asked, smiling, as she pointed to the door and looking to see if I would let her go in first.

I tilted my head toward the door, allowing her entry and watched her walk in, taking off her scarf as she did, and sighing heavily. Maybe she was new in town because it was close enough to the mountains that this place, I imagined, got pretty chilly this time of year.

“Thank you,” she said over her shoulder, her voice filled with joy. More joy. Ugh.

I’d have thought it was joy for the fact that she was finally in a warm setting, but she was smiling even when her teeth were chattering and she was obviously chillier than she cared to be. It was like everyone in this blasted town had an aversion to real emotion—aside from happiness, that was.

Everything was a reason for these people to smile, even something as silly as gingerbread lattes. Not that I would ever know what that was about, because when I got to the counter I ordered my usual—coffee, black. Personally, I didn’t see the appeal to add all that nonsense to my coffee. It made it less coffee and more like a child’s drink, especially with all that sugar. Even when I was a child I didn’t consume that many sweets. Quite frankly, maybe that was the source of their problem—endless sugar highs.

“Will that be all, sir?”

I watched as the woman tossed her long blonde hair over her shoulder and moved to the pot behind her, filling up a cup for me.

“That’s all,” I finally answered, stuffing my hands in my pockets, and looking around as I waited. Everyone seemed to be talking to someone, and I didn’t see Jesse anywhere. Not that he could be missed dressed as he was.

With my focus on finding Jesse so we could get the heck out of here, I almost missed my cup of coffee being placed on the counter. Until the only sweet as saccharine voice I knew filled my ears and stepped up to me, holding the to-go cup out for me to take. “I think this is yours,” she said with, what else, but a smile on her face.

Izzy Monroe.

The maid of honor to my best man.

My emailing, um, buddy.

The woman who drove me up a wall.

I grinned, eyeing the mysterious candy cane that seemed to have been added to my cup. On second thought, I said, “I don’t think that’s mine.”

The truth was, just like the first time I’d met her, my eyes couldn’t seem to leave the brown ones that were currently staring into mine. They sparkled with more hope than I cared for in a person. Her long brown hair was tied in some criss-crossed style off to the side of her head and draped over her shoulder.

With one hand around the cup she was forcing on me and the other holding the front of her blue coat, she nudged me again. “I think it is. No one else here drinks black coffee.” Of course they didn’t. “Now, why didn’t you tell me you were in town?” she asked suddenly, her voice going up a few octaves.

I shook my head. “I didn’t?”

She hitched an eyebrow in the air and waited. “I believe your last email said sometime next week.”

“I just got in,” I conceded. “I didn’t want to impose. I was going to call you later.”

What? It was true. Well, if later meant never.

Don’t judge me. If you met Izzy and spent five seconds around her ray-of-sunshine-personality, you would understand my aversion to spending too much time with her. Okay, fine, any time at all.

I reached for my cup in hopes of ending this conversation and finding Jesse once and for all. Before turning to leave, I plucked the candy cane from my coffee, not sure what to do with it. Didn’t anyone here appreciate plain coffee? “What is with this town?” I asked no one in particular.

Izzy answered, though, in a rather sing-song voice. “It is the holiday season. Candy canes come with the territory.”

“In my black coffee?” It felt a little disrespectful to the bean.

She rolled back on her heels and winked. “Especially in your black coffee. You need something to help that bitter stuff.”

“I like it bitter, thank you very much.”

Izzy quirked a brow, as though daring me to think differently. I was going to do no such thing. Then, without preamble, she said, “I have a feeling you’ll be changing your tune soon enough.”

I began moving away from her and toward the door. Apparently, even without an invitation, she decided to follow me. Fine, I’d bite. “What do you want?” Wasn’t it a little soon to be talking about Fiona and Louie’s wedding? I took a sip of my coffee, all while holding the stupid, sticky candy cane in my hand.

She rolled her eyes and snagged the treat from me, bringing the hook to her mouth and popping it off in one swift motion.

Dumbfounded, I stared at her. “What are you doing?”

“Mmm,” she moaned sucking on it. “Delicious.” Then she waved the rest of the stick as she spoke, the whole thing oddly reminiscent of my elementary school teacher using a finger pointer. “You didn’t know what to do with it and let’s be honest, we both know you were going to throw it away. I couldn’t possibly let a perfectly good candy cane go to waste.”

“Naturally,” I replied, sarcasm dripping from that one word. “So what is it you wanted?” I asked again, still wondering why she was following.

She cracked down on the candy cane in her mouth, the crunching on her teeth actually concerning to my ears. “I know you said this was part wedding, part vacation for you, but I was wondering how long you needed to settle in before we got down to business on the wedding details. You know, Fiona’s been in court and her trial doesn’t seem to be ending anytime soon. So we can’t fail her now. She needs all the help she can get, and Louie’s still traveling, so he’s rarely here for longer than a day or two before leaving again. It’s his busy season,” she reminded me unnecessarily.

Yeah, Louie—the lucky fellow he was—was in tech and he was working on some big projects before the new year. Too bad I had to work in corporate when everything all but shut down, leaving time for me to help with planning his and Fiona’s wedding with Ms. Cheerful, er, Wedding. She was Ms. A Lot of Things.

As she waited for me to answer, she popped the candy cane in her mouth, and placed a finger in the air. She took her hair down out of the style she had it in, and then continued to pull a thicker band than the one that was in her hair previously out of the bag on her shoulder and began wrapping her hair in it until it was tied tightly on the top of her head.

“Sorry,” she said, “sometimes it just bugs me being on my shoulder.”

I rather liked it down actually, I immediately thought. Wait, why did I care the way she wore her hair?

It was this town. I was starting to lose it.

Shaking my head, I addressed her question, noting, “Yeah, I know. I’d like to just get to my room and put my luggage down and then I’ll call you.” I hoped that was enough to get her off my back for the time being.

She sighed. “Works for me.”

“Don’t you have work?” I asked, looking at my watch.

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “I own the bookstore, so I come and go as I please.”

That explained her email address. I nodded my understanding. “Well, you should do whatever you were planning on doing with the day.” Then in the ultimate moment of good fortune, I spotted Jesse walking from across the street. “Well, it looks like my ride is here,” I said, cutting our conversation short.

She rolled her eyes and took a bite of the candy cane again. “I’ll be waiting, Bo.”

The way she said that gave me chills.

I was actually afraid to have to spend any significant time with her.

Louie definitely owed me for this one because I may not have known much about her, but I did know this: working with this Izzy character was going to be a real treat (sense the sarcasm).

Here was what I did know from these ever so brief encounters: she was excited about most things, she smiled incessantly (let’s just assume unless I say otherwise everyone is smiling), she liked books, and apparently she was the queen of organization and loved planning big events like weddings. I only hoped that was where it ended and I didn’t get to know more about her, because if I did, that meant we were spending way too much time together. I mean, I knew that being in the wedding party, we’d be thrown together, but come on.

And maybe that made me out to be some kind of beast, but at least I was honest.

* * *

I looked out the window like before and tried my best to tune out the Christmas music Jesse put on. I didn’t get what the stink was with the holidays. They claimed it was the happiest time of the year. Some people wished it would be year-round. Whereas, I wished it could be erased off the calendar all together.

Christmas was never a joyous occasion when I was growing up.

My grandmother was really the only one who took the time to make the holidays special for me, but she passed when I was young, and she took all the good times with her.

My parents didn’t care much for decorating, considering it too much work for one day. We didn’t have stockings and they didn’t even give me a chance to believe in Santa Claus.

They never bothered wrapping my presents, just gave them to me as they were. “Here you go, Bo,” my mother would say, shoving the gift in my hands. “From your father and I. We hope you like it.”

And come Christmas Day, for dinner we would go to a fancy restaurant in the city to eat, just as we did every year. I guessed you could say it was our tradition. I called it just another day, only this night my parents insisted I wear a scratchy sweater.

I attended a private, non-denominational school that didn’t celebrate the holidays, either. The most we ever did was make paper snowflakes. I brought mine home one year and hung it on my wall, only for my father to take it down and say that it didn’t go with the statement he and my mother were trying to make.

The Grants couldn’t afford to look like anything but the perfect, socialite, upper-class family we were. Apparently, even when it came to my bedroom decor.

That was why the holidays were no big deal, in my opinion. It was merely another day where childrens’ heads were filled with promises that would likely never be fulfilled and lies that would crumble around them when they were old enough to fully grapple with the truth. The truth being, of course, that like Valentine’s Day, Christmas was just another day that wasn’t worth the time or money spent on the wrapping paper for the gifts, let alone the gifts themselves.

When we pulled up in front of the bed and breakfast—Holly’s Haven—I almost cringed at the way it was decked out to the nines in holiday decor. Even the sign was framed in lights.

“This is it. Have a good stay,” Jesse said, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he came to a stop.

“Yeah. Thanks for the ride.” I got out, went around to the back and got my things out of the trunk. Still hardly believing that in all that time we were parked outside the coffee shop no one stole my bags. I was learning there were definitely differences between living in the city and being in a small town. There wasn’t much I liked about being here, but being able to trust your neighbor seemed like a nice bonus.

By the time I started walking to the front door, I heard his car pull away. Don’t get me wrong, Jesse was a nice guy, but if I never smelled the smells of his car again, it’d be too soon.

I took a second before opening the door and looked around at my surroundings. Besides all the lights, there was a tree in the yard, garland, well, everywhere, red bows and plastic snowmen. I actually shuddered at the prospect that the inside of this place might look more festive than this.

There was a jingling sound from the bells moving on the wreath outside the door as I went in and shut the door behind me, leaving the chilly air outside. My feet immediately sank down on a plush dark green rug that had more fur than a cat. The rug read “Ho-Ho-Ho” and had a Santa hat hanging off the first H.

As I continued walking with my suitcase rolling behind me and my suit in the garment bag hung over my arm, the lady behind the desk with striking red hair and an elf hat on greeted me. “I hope this weather isn’t too much for you, dear.”

I shook my head. “It’s fine. I’m from New York so,” I let my words fall off, hoping that was all the explanation she needed.

“Say no more,” she said, the words music to my ears. “You’re Bo Grant, right?”

Of course she knew. “My assistant made a reservation for me.”

“Yes, I remember. I’m Holly, by the way.” She held up a finger, bent down, and grabbed a key, extending a hand out for me to take the room key. “You’re in our Snow Globe Room.”

I gave her a dumbfounded look, tilting my head. “What does that mean exactly?”

She chuckled, clearly amused by my lack of knowledge on the way she organized this place. “It just means that snow globes are the theme for that room. Every room has a theme for the holidays. Helps make it more festive for the guests.”

I wasn’t going to touch that one with a 10-foot pole. “All right, well, I guess I’ll be on my way, then.”

She stopped me as I walked past the desk, touching my shoulder to get my attention. “I hear you’re in town for Louie and Fiona’s wedding.”

I nodded. So the small town lore rang true—gossip was alive and well. Apparently, Jesse wasn’t on the gossip circuit, but Holly was.

“Izzy says you’ve been helping her plan the thing since the lovebirds are so busy with work. Mighty kind of you, you know.”

Kind wasn’t a word often used to describe me, as you could tell from that article I read on the way over here. “Thanks. I should really be going,” I said, not wanting to make any more small talk. “I have, um, planning to do and work to get caught up on.”

She blinked and nodded. “Very well. I hope to see you around.”

“Sure.”

I followed the room numbers and walked to my room, noticing that the Gingerbread Room and Elf Room were on either side of mine. I honestly didn’t know which was worse, but was beginning to thank my lucky stars that I got the Snow Globe Room because obviously that was the lesser of the evils.

I flicked a cranberry that was hanging from the holly around the door. “I have to get out of here,” I whispered to myself, taking the room key out and going to open the door. “And fast,” I spoke low, practically under my breath, as I pushed in.

I couldn’t help but wonder what Mirna was thinking when she booked me at the B&B. I knew it was a small town and all, but why exactly couldn’t I stay at the same hotel I stayed in last time I was here and commute back and forth? I almost kicked myself for authorizing that huge bonus because this was all her fault. It was because of Mirna that I was subjected to all this Christmas nonsense.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I said under my breath, taking it all in. It was just so much Christmas. Being in my room alone was like visiting the North Pole—if such a place existed, that was.

There was a shelf off to the corner filled with snow globes, so that obviously explained that, but everything else seemed a bit too much, if you asked me. Almost like it was taken straight out of a scene from a Christmas movie. I didn’t even want to watch them, let alone live out one. How was I supposed to get any sleep, though, when there was a giant nutcracker sitting beside the door staring at me? Or better yet, the giant snow globe shaped pillow sitting on the middle of the bed.

I left my suitcase and garment bag at the door and walked over to the desk that had fake snow covering it. There was even a big red chair that looked like it belonged to Santa Claus. Draped across the back of it was a Santa costume. Clearly, that was in the wrong room. There must have been a Santa Room or something that was missing a key decoration.

Draped on the curtains were paper snowflakes like the ones I made when I was a boy and I couldn’t help but look at them with disdain. This place was going to be the death of me.

I walked over and pulled back the curtains to find snow globe decals cluttering the window and fake snow littering the windowsill. There was no escaping it, was there?

Admitting defeat, I sat on the edge of the bed. There was nothing I could do about it now. I was here for Louie, I just had to keep reminding myself that.

I placed a hand down beside me on the bed, and immediately looked down at the plush quilt on it. It was light blue and covered in snow and snowflakes. “Of course.”

This was absurd.

It wasn’t possible that these people couldn’t see that this wasn’t real. That Christmas wasn’t anything special.

I raked a hand through my hair before resting my elbows on my knees and leaning forward. I glanced around the room one more time before staring up at the ceiling. “I hate the holidays,” I repeated to myself, not for the first time today. This was just the first time I was saying it aloud.