The Christmas Concierge by Beth Kendrick

Author:Beth Kendrick
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Romance
ISBN: 9781957748962
Publisher: Tule Publishing Group, LLC
Published: 2022-06-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Holiday racked her brain for a moment before replying. “We’d love to, of course, but we’re not licensed caterers.”

“You don’t need to be a professional chef to sling some frosting.” Crispin chuckled at the thought. “You can put on a uniform and blend right in.”

“Even if that’s true, we really have to get going before the weather gets any worse. It’s a long drive back to Maine and I have a bad track record with snowstorms.” She ran her hand through her hair. “But have no fear, I’m very good at logistics. I can scrounge up some replacements in the next hour or so.”

“No.” The old man’s expression was serene and utterly certain. “I’d like you to do it.”

“But . . .” Holiday started.

“Why?” Alex finished.

“Because Christmas is a time for reflection and giving.” Crispin smiled kindly at Alex. “Writing a check isn’t a sacrifice for you. I can relate to that—giving you a piece of my great-grandfather’s glasswork isn’t any sacrifice to me. So I’ve made a point of giving something more treasured than money—time and effort.”

Holiday wanted to point out that she was not obscenely rich and should therefore be excluded from this narrative, but she couldn’t abandon her teammate. Not when the finish line was so close.

She glanced at the grandfather clock in the hallway. “What time does this shindig start?”

“Crafts and games begin promptly at six,” Crispin said.

She turned to Alex. “What do you think? Will we be able to drive all the way back to Alemos tonight?”

“I don’t see that we have a choice.”

Crispin clapped his hands together. “Now you’re in the spirit!”

She turned to Crispin with schoolmarm sternness. “We will give you two hours of cookie decorating. But that’s it. We have miles to go before we sleep.”

“The children will be thrilled,” he said.

“I promise you that we’ll be the best cookie-decorating assistants that ever assisted.” She leveled her index finger at him. “But we’re out of here at the stroke of eight o’clock and we’re taking your great-grandfather’s star with us.”

“Eight thirty?” he countered.

“One hundred and twenty minutes. No more, no less.” She planted her hands on her hips. “Eight sharp. Take it or leave it.”

He relented with a laugh. “You drive a hard bargain, Miss Smith. Let me go share the good news with the catering team.”

When they were alone, Alex turned to her. “I can’t believe this.”

“What else could I do?” she demanded. “We have no other options and he knows it. Besides, what kind of monster says no to helping children at Christmas?”

Alex waved this away. “No, I can’t believe you forgot to ask the most important question.”

She frowned. “Which is?”

“What are the uniforms like?”

*

“Don’t say one word,” Alex warned as he stepped out of the powder room.

“Well, well, well.” Holiday tried and failed to hide her grin as she beheld Alex Sappier—titan of tech, mountain man of Maine, coffee connoisseur—rocking a Santa hat, green turtleneck and pants, and red-and-green-striped elf shoes with jingle bells dangling from the curly toes.

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