not sure Mr. Hammond likes much of anything,” Noelle replied. She was thinking of the remark he made right before the drone struck him. “Did you know, he actually said he doesn’t like Christmas? How can the man think that and run a store like Hammond’s?” Or Fryberg’s.
“Obviously, his disdain hasn’t stopped him from doubling Hammond’s profits over the past two years,” Belinda replied. “What matters isn’t that he like Christmas, but that he keeps the people in Fryberg employed, which he will.”
“Hope they like working for Mr. Frosty. Did you know he wants to get rid of Fryer?”
“Well, some change is bound to happen,” Belinda said.
“I know,” Noelle grumbled. She bowed her head. She really did. Same way she understood that the retail industry was changing. She also knew she was acting irrational and childish about the entire situation. Ever since Belinda announced the sale, however, she’d been unable to catch her breath. It felt like there were fingers clawing inside her looking for purchase. A continual churning sensation. Like she was about to lose her grip.
James Hammond’s arrival only made the feeling worse.
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it though,” she said referring to the prospect of change.
Belinda nudged her shoulder. “Sweetheart, you wouldn’t be you if you did. Cheer up. Mr. Hammond will be out of your hair soon.”
“Not soon enough,” she replied.
“What wouldn’t be soon enough?” Hammond’s voice caused her to start in her chair. Turning, she saw a nurse pushing him toward her. He was slouched down in a wheelchair, a hand propping his head. Noelle caught a glimpse of a white bandage on the back of his scalp.
“The bandage can come off tomorrow,” the nurse told them.
“How are you feeling, Mr. Hammond?” Belinda asked.
“Like someone split my head open. Who knew such a little device could pack such a wallop?”
“Lots of things pack a wallop when they’re going thirty miles an hour. We pulled the toy from the shelves. Though I doubt it would have been popular anyway, once parents heard what happened.”
“Don’t blame them. Thing could slice an ear off.” Groaning, he leaned forward and buried his face in both hands as though one was suddenly not enough to hold it up. “I’m going to have Hammond’s pull them too as soon as I get back to Boston,” he spoke through his fingers.
“That won’t be anytime soon, I’m afraid. You heard what Dr. Nelson said,” the nurse warned.
“What did she say?” Noelle asked. She didn’t like the sound of the nurse’s comment.
Hammond waved a hand before cradling his head again. “Nothing.”
“Mr. Hammond has a slight concussion. He’s been advised to rest for the next couple of days. That includes no air travel.”
“You mean you’re staying here?” No, no, no. Noelle’s stomach started to twist. He was supposed to go away, not stick around for the weekend.
“The doctor merely recommended I rest,” James replied. “No one said it was mandatory.”
“Perhaps not, but it’s generally a good idea to take doctors’ advice,” Belinda said.
“We’re talking about a handful of stitches. Nothing I haven’t had before. I’ll be fine. Why don’t we go have our lunch as planned and finish our conversation? I could use some food in my stomach. What kind of soup did you say they made?”
“Gingerbread,” Noelle replied.
“The only place you should be going is to bed,” the nurse said.
Much as Noelle hated to admit it, the nurse was right. He was looking paler by the minute. She remembered how unsteady he’d been right after the accident; he could barely sit up.
Funny, but he still looked formidable despite the pallor. A virile invalid. Noelle didn’t think it possible. Must be the combination of square jaw and broad shoulders, she decided. And the dark suit. Black made everyone look intimidating.
Again, he waved off the nurse’s advice. “Nonsense. I rested while waiting for the doctor. Why don’t we go have our lunch as planned and finish our conversation? I could use some food in my stomach. What kind of soup did you say they made?”
“I just told you.”
A crease deepened between his eyes. “You did?”
“Uh-huh. Two seconds ago.”
“That only proves I’m hungry. I’m having trouble listening.” He pushed himself to a standing position, squaring his shoulders proudly when he reached his feet. His upper body swayed back and forth unsteadily. “See?” he said. “Fine. Let’s go.”
Noelle looked over her shoulder at Belinda who shook her head in return. “I’m not going to negotiate anything while you’re unsteady on your feet,” her mother-in-law said. “I won’t be accused of taking advantage when you’re not thinking straight.”
James laughed. “You’re a smart businesswoman, Belinda, but I can assure you, no one ever takes advantage of me.”
“That I can believe,” Noelle murmured.
He looked at her and smiled. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Mrs. Fryberg. Now how about we go get that lunch we missed...”
It took two steps for him to lose his balance. His eyes started to roll back in his head, and his knees started to buckle.
Noelle reached him first. “Okay, that’s enough,” she said, reaching around his waist. Thanks to the size difference, it took a minute to maneuver him, but eventually she managed to lower him into the wheelchair. Unfortunately, the downward momentum pulled her along, as well. She landed with one hand pressed against his torso and knee wedged between his thighs. Man, but he was solid. A tall, lean block of granite.
She looked up to find herself nose to nose with him. Up close, his eyes were far more dappled than she realized, the green more of an accent color than true eye shade.
He had freckles too. A smattering across the bridge of his nose.
Cold-blooded businessmen weren’t supposed to have freckles.
“Think you might listen to the nurse now?” she asked.
“I was light-headed for a moment, that’s all.”
“Light-headed, huh?” She pushed herself to her feet. To her embarrassment, the move required splaying her hand wider, so that the palm of her hand pressed over his heart. Fortunately, he was too dizzy or distracted to comment.
“Any more light-headed and you would have hit the floor,” she told him. “Are you trying to get more stitches?”
“I’m not...”
“Face
