My Only Christmas Wish. J.M. Jeffries
Bennett stood in the foyer of Bennett’s watching the double-wide doors leading into her department store still firmly closed as the clock in the center rotunda ticked out the last minutes before the opening. Darcy tried to gauge the size of the crowd. Even to her eyes, she could see it wasn’t anywhere near as large as last year or even the year before. The economy was taking a huge bite out of the first shopping day of the Christmas season.
The first Friday after Thanksgiving used to be the most magical day for her. The anticipation of seeing all the Christmas decorations in place and knowing her favorite holiday was just around the corner always left Darcy feeling lighthearted and joyous. Today, she simply felt depressed.
She dreaded opening the doors and letting the customers in because she knew he was there—Mr. Dollar Bin himself, now the new owner of Bennett’s, the finest upscale department store in Atlanta—hell, in all of Georgia.
Mr. Eli Austin waited outside somewhere in the growing crowd probably looking at his watch as impatiently as Darcy watched the huge clock ticking off the seconds until 6:00 a.m. when the doors would open and the Christmas season officially began.
How could her mother do this to her? How could she sell Darcy’s legacy to that man? The only thing her mother couldn’t sell was the land the store stood on because Darcy owned it and no one was going to force her to sell no matter how hard Eli Austin’s lawyers had pressured her into doing so.
She glanced at the clock again, her stomach clenching so tightly thick pain radiated outward. In the space of only a few weeks, she’d lost her beloved grandfather, then her father had died unexpectedly from a massive heart attack, and her own marriage crumbled. She’d survived not because she wanted to, but because she had to. But this, the loss of her family’s legacy, she couldn’t see beyond. Bitterness was a huge knot in her chest. If only her father had had time to update his will, leaving the store to Darcy instead of to her mother, she wouldn’t be standing here waiting to officially hand over her store to the man who wanted to ruin it.
Rustling sounded behind her as the staff settled behind their counters or walked the floor putting a few final touches to the decorations. Perfume girls stood on either side of her with paper wands in their hands already sprayed with perfume. The cosmetic counters were perfect. Roxy was setting out her makeup brushes and making sure every last detail was in place at her Clinique station. The new girl at the MAC station looked uncomfortable and worried as she moved the display in front of her around to show it to better advantage, and then moved it back. Darcy sent her an encouraging smile. The girl smiled back, though strain showed in her eyes.
The store decorations were festive with white artificial trees, each one representing a different country. Unlike most stores, which started decorating before Halloween, Bennett’s kept to tradition, unveiling their decorations only the day after Thanksgiving. She and her grandfather had always started planning the store decorations from the moment the year ended until the next Christmas rolled around again. They involved all the employees and now each department had a competition to see who had the best ornamentation with the mayor of Atlanta acting as the judge.
The clock chimed the opening bell. Two men, dressed in nutcracker costumes from the ballet, walked slowly forward in a dignified cadence, unlocked the doors and slowly backed up. As the doors swung open, the costumed men raised their trumpets to their mouths and blew the opening notes to The Nutcracker.
For a second, the crowd outside the doors hesitated, looking around in delight. Then everyone dashed in. People parted in waves around Darcy as they rushed off to whatever department they wanted, searching for bargains, looking over merchandise, consulting their Christmas lists. Women with toddlers still asleep in their strollers surged into the store. Men with briefcases followed more sedately, but they, too, looked around and delight showed in their eyes.
Darcy stood completely still waiting—her heart in her throat, nerves dancing a pattern of stress up and down her arms. Just as she thought maybe Eli Austin would wait and not show until after the crowd had thinned, he walked in the door, paused to look around, and then fastened his gaze on Darcy.
For a second, Darcy forgot to breathe. There he was, Eli Austin, the new owner of Bennett’s—the man who held her future in his hands, the man who’d sent his lawyers to broker the sale while he stood in the background waiting and watching. Darcy had managed to avoid him, leaving most of the details to her mother and stepfather’s lawyers. She tried to relax and smile confidently at him but the stern look on his face stopped her.
Eli Austin was taller than she expected. He wore a camel-hair coat with a matching scarf around his neck. He ran a gloved hand through his hair and the curls settled back in order. As he studied Darcy, he removed his leather gloves one finger at a time. Not only was he Mr. I Own Every Dollar Bin in America himself in the flesh, but damn, he was the handsomest brother she’d seen in a long time with his caramel-colored skin, velvety brown eyes and thick brown hair. A flash of heat swept over her so strong she almost gasped.
Eli Austin stuffed his gloves into the pocket of his coat, unbuttoned it and then removed his scarf to reveal a suave, sophisticated dark blue pin-striped suit and a white shirt with a blue-and-red power tie. A little mustache action showing on his upper lip added a distinguished look to his face.
Darcy’s heart skipped a beat, and then sped up, spreading the hot flush across her cheeks. Her breath caught in her throat. His photographs didn’t do him justice.
“Ms. Bennett,” he said, cordially holding out his hand.
“Mr. Austin,” she replied as she shook his hand, refusing to be intimidated by his cool appraisal. Her tone was as reserved and dignified as she could make it even as her emotions seethed and roiled underneath her skin.
She was not going to let her mother’s betrayal get the best of her. She suspected that the hurt over her mother’s lack of respect for Darcy’s grandfather’s sacrifices in creating this store and making it a legend would never go away. Especially considering how much Darcy loved it.
Eli Austin’s fingers were warm, and she could feel a faint ridge of calluses along his index finger. His grip was firm, not too strong, not too weak—just enough to let her know he was in charge of this meeting.
That’s okay, she was a reed and she could bend, Darcy thought. A reed, she repeated. She was going to chart her path through the chaos. That was what she did best. That was who she was. She would do her sniveling in private.
“As much as I enjoy the day after Thanksgiving…” she said, a little disappointed she wasn’t going to be able to mingle with the crowd and watch what they looked at or bought. She learned a lot about buying habits just by observing her customers. “I think we should go to my office where we can have some privacy.” She started toward the elevator expecting him to follow, but when she arrived, she turned and found him still standing where she’d left him.
Eli Austin looked around the store, a smug, pleased look on his face that told her he was enjoying the moment. She headed back to him.
“Are you all right, Mr. Austin?” she asked.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve been inside Bennett’s at Christmastime.” His gaze roamed the floor.
“Really,” she said astonished. “Why not? You don’t shop locally?” She had a vision of cheap, little Dollar Bin stockings hanging from his mantel with Dollar Bin gifts inside.
“That sounds like an accusation.”
She studied him, expecting him to answer her questions, but he seemed disinclined to continue. “I hope you’re impressed.”
“Very.” He looked around again.
As customers gazed up at the lavish decorations, Eli Austin watched them. Darcy glanced at her watch. The morning was going to be long, and she still had a number of things to finish before Santa arrived at noon with his entourage of children and ballet dancers performing vignettes from The Nutcracker ballet throughout the store.
“Our decorations are considered the best in Atlanta, the most famous in the South.” She tried to keep annoyance out of