A Billionaire for Christmas

“Fingers crossed,” I say, happy to be able to see her even if I won’t see my father, Frank. He was supposed to play the role of Santa at the Winter Wonderland, but he’s a travel photographer, and got a plum assignment that conflicted with the Santa gig.

I’m disappointed, of course, but apparently the company that booked him is paying all expenses, plus he was able to tag his own trip on at the end, allowing him to take another assignment to shoot advertising photos for a Mexican coffee plantation.

That’s where he is now, somewhere in Chiapas, and I’m hoping that means I’ll get coffee for Christmas.

“He’ll be back for Christmas Eve, won’t he?” Syl asks after I tell her all that. “The kids will be so disappointed if he’s not at the gala.”

The fairy wings that caused such drama this morning are part of a fundraising gala for the Stark Children’s Foundation, an organization that provides assistance to abused and neglected kids. At five p.m. on Christmas Eve, a gaggle of kids from three dance schools that provide sponsorships to the SCF will put on this year’s show, a much shortened version of The Nutcracker. Lara and Ronnie are both Sugarplum Fairies, and Ronnie has told Frank over and over that he needs to take “oodles and oodles” of pictures.

“He’ll be there.” I’m certain of it because he promised Lara, he promised Ronnie, and he promised me. We’ve had our rough patches, but Frank and I are doing well now, and I know he loves my family. More than that, I’m positive he’d move heaven and earth so as not to disappoint his grandchildren.

“There you are!”

I look up to see my best friend, Jamie, bounding toward me. I stand up just in time to get caught in a huge hug. An entertainment reporter, she’s been in New York for the last two weeks doing celebrity interviews, and it feels great to see her in person, even though we talk almost every day by phone.

“Why are you out here? The food and alcohol’s in the kitchen.” She’s holding a margarita, and it’s a testament to Jamie’s skill with a cocktail that she didn’t spill it down my back.

“Watching the kids,” I say truthfully. Then add, in the interest of full disclosure, “and enjoying the fact that Moira is on deck and not us.”

“And you wonder why Ryan and I don’t have kids yet.” Jamie grins at both of us, then pulls over another chair. She plunks herself down in it, settles back, and takes a long sip through the straw before sighing with pleasure.

Syl and I look at each other, amused. It’s barely ten, but margaritas for breakfast is so very, very Jamie.

“You might as well,” Jamie says, clearly reading our minds. “It’s not like we’re driving.”

She has a point. Edward, Damien’s favorite driver, is coming by with the fleet’s longest limo in an hour. It’s big enough to fit all of us with room to spare, and the kids will have a blast.

“Well, you’ve convinced me,” Syl says, and I shrug. Why not?

What’s better is that we don’t even have to get up, because as soon as we’ve made our decision, Jackson appears with a tray topped with frozen decadence.

“Where are Damien and Ryan?” I ask, taking one, then waving at Lara who’s shouting for me to see how high she can swing with Moira pushing her.

“Ryan’s making his famous frittata, and Damien’s cheering him on.”

I glance at Jamie. “Sounds yummy. Is that one of Ryan’s skillsets?”

She makes a zipping motion over her mouth. “Let’s just say that he is highly adept at all sorts of interesting things. I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”

I roll my eyes and turn back to Jackson, who’s put the tray on the table. He trades places with Sylvia, then pulls her down onto his lap.

“Is Damien just keeping him company, or are they sneaking in work time?” I ask.

Today was supposed to be a work-free zone, but I know my husband. More specifically, I know the width and breadth of the massive empire he controls, and even during the holidays, work will inevitably sneak in.

I also know that he’s good about keeping his word, and when he promises me a no-work day, he’ll only break that rule if there’s a true crisis.

“Something going on with a security system? Or with hiring a new agent?” I figure both guesses are good. After all, Ryan’s been Stark International’s Security Chief for years. More recently, he’s taken on the role of the head of Stark Security, a newly formed division that is still recruiting agents.

“From what I can gather, yes,” Jackson says. “Something about a system breach in an East Asian manufacturing plant. But there’s also real cooking going on, so I think you two can cut both your men some slack.”