of hot drinks and snacks. He hoped it was only his imagination but he thought he saw a wistful longing in his daughter’s eyes.
He got up and went to Iona. “I’ll take that.”
She gave him a smile and tipped her head, the bells on the end of her hat jingling as she did so. She handed him the tray. “Thank you. Hey, before we get back over there, what’s the deal with Santa and Sofia?”
“She … her mom had been sick with cancer since Sofia was two and she died last Christmas. It just sort of turned into a thing in kindergarten where she thought if she asked Santa to cure Gill then she’d get better. Gill passed away two days after Christmas.”
“Oh, Mads. I’m so sorry,” she said, squeezing his shoulder. “I won’t bring Santa up again.”
He glanced over at Sofia, who was playing a game on his phone. She often logged onto his device whenever she wanted to play. “It’s okay if you do. I think she’s trying to figure out what’s real and what’s not.”
“Fair enough,” Iona said. “I know asking about that probably wasn’t what you anticipated at the start of our meeting but I wanted to be careful about what I said around her.”
Mads nodded. “Fair enough. Does this mean you see me as a person now and not a corporate entity?”
“I already did. Part of the reason I took your call was to see what you could bring to the Candied Apple Café, not what the Loughman Group could,” Iona said over her shoulder as she walked toward the table.
The fur-lined, red velvet skirt she wore swished back and forth around her legs and he noticed that the bells on her hat were still jingling. The customers in the café all smiled as she walked past and for the first time this December, he felt like smiling himself.
Sofia put the phone down as he arrived at the table and Iona took the smaller mug of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and red and green colored sugar, placing it in front of Sofia, then added the slice of chocolate cake. She put a mug down in front of his spot and then took the last mug for herself.
Sofia held the cocoa loosely in her hands, one of her inky black curls falling over her eyes as she leaned forward to blow on the hot drink. Losing her mother had been a deep blow to her and Mads had wanted to protect his daughter from ever experiencing that kind of heartbreak again.
He’d had to make choices when Gill had died and one of them was no more pretending with his daughter. He’d had enough of doctors who made promises that couldn’t be kept. Nurses who had told him things to make him feel better that weren’t based on truth. But he’d never expected that reality to kill her joy of Christmas and he’d been struggling this holiday season, since she’d been very vocal about not believing any more.
But he’d worry about that later. He was here for business. The sooner he got this finished, maybe he’d be able to do something with Sofia that would help to get her into the holiday spirit.
“How’s the cake, Sof?” he asked as she finished her first bite.
“Yummy,” she said, turning her attention to it. He’d allowed her nanny Jessie to run into the Ralph Lauren Polo store a block or so away to pick up an order she’d placed and Mads knew she’d be back soon and then he’d be able to talk to Iona about the Loughman Group’s proposition.
“Glad to hear it,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee.
“Iona, darling, the shop looks fabulous,” an older woman, probably in her sixties though she looked more like she was in her forties, came over to their table. She had the same reddish hair as Iona but it was shot through with strands of gray. Her hair was pulled back at the nape in a chignon and she had on a slim-fitting sheath that flattered her figure. She wore a strand of pearls and arrived on a wave of expensive-smelling perfume.
“Thank you, Mom,” Iona said, standing up to hug her mother.
Mads stood up as well.
“Mom, this is Mads Eriksson of the Loughman Group and his daughter Sofia. Mads, this is Valentina Summerlin.”
“Very nice to meet you,” Mads said, holding out his hand.
Valentina placed hers in his fingertips first, which left him trying to awkwardly shake it. He let it drop as she turned to his daughter. “Aren’t you cute as a button?”
Sofia just smiled up at her. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“Mom, would you like to join us?”
“Just for a moment, darling,” Valentina said.
Mads offered her his chair and then turned to find another one and went to retrieve it. When he returned, Valentina was talking to Sofia. Telling her about a breakfast with Santa on the coming Saturday.
”You and your father can come as my personal guests even though the event is sold out. I’m sure you want to get your wish list in early.”
“I don’t believe in Santa,” Sofia said, putting her fork down.
Valentina looked over at him but before she could speak, Iona put her hand on her mother’s wrist. “It’s just a fun holiday breakfast, really. And she didn’t mention that you get the chance to help out some kids by bringing toys for the NYC Children’s Foundation.”
“That sounds like fun. What do you think, Papa?” Sofia asked him.
“We’ll see,” he said.
“I hope to see you there? Is it okay if I believe in Santa?” Valentina asked.
“You’re entitled to believe in anything,” Sofia said. “That’s what Papa says.”
“That’s very wise.”
She smiled over at him. “My Papa is the best dad in the world.”
“Yes, he is,” Valentina said. “Not all papas listen to their daughters.”
Iona raised both eyebrows at her mother and she just pursed her lips. “I should be going. I hope to see you both on Saturday.”
***
Iona walked her mom out of the Candied Apple Café. “Sorry about that darling. I just wanted to make sure that little girl knew how lucky she was to have a good father.”
“Mom,” she warned her mother. Her father had been very hard on Iona growing up. He’d expected her to be at least as good as Theo had been, and her younger brother was very good at most things he’d attempted. “Dad was doing the best he could.”
“He was. But he could have been more … understanding at times. I know he feared that you’d be too much like me.”
“Like you?” she asked. “Maybe he didn’t think the world was ready for two Wonder Women.”
“Probably he was afraid I’d turn you towards charitable foundations instead of a profit-generating company. You know he wanted you to take over Summerlin Industries.”
“I know. But it wasn’t for me,” she said. She and her father had had a strained
