“Molly. Molly Carmichael,” Molly said. She kept her eyes straight ahead. “And we’re almost there.”
Molly turned one final corner, her fingers reaching for her keyring. She quickly opened the doors to Christmas Wishes, and an ear-splitting siren blared through the store.
Nicholas noticed a slight smile spreading across Molly’s face as she turned toward him. “I bet I can guess your birthday.”
“What?” Nicholas cringed as the alarm continued. He was sure the police would arrive any moment and arrest them both.
“0-7-2-8.” Molly spoke the numbers aloud while entering them into a keypad.
When she’d finished, the alarm went silent and Nicholas let out a sigh of relief.
“I’ve asked my parents several times to not use my birthday as a passcode. It’s too easy to figure out,” he said, looking annoyed.
“Yeah, but they’re your parents, and parents don’t take orders, they give orders,” Molly replied, moving to close the front door behind them. “Now that we’re here, did you have something in mind that you wanted to see? I could show you a few of our displays—"
“Just the financial books, please.” Nicholas set down his cup of coffee,and loosened the scarf around his neck. “I’ll only need your financials from the last two years. No need to go back any further than that.”
“Why do you need the books?” Molly
asked, giving Nicholas a worried look and her voice dropped to a whisper. “Are we going bankrupt?”
“No, nothing like that. If we were going bankrupt, I wouldn’t need to see the books at all. I could’ve just stayed in New York,” Nicholas said with a chuckle before he noticed that Molly wasn’t laughing at all. He pretended to cough into his hand, wishing he was making a better impression on her. “I need to make sure we’re a valuable asset for anyone interested in seasonal stores.”
“Valuable asset?” Molly asked with a frown. “I’m not sure I understand what that means.”
“I’m looking into selling the store.”
Her mouth fell open and her beautiful eyes went wide. She looked like he'd just told her the world was coming to an end.
“What?” Molly asked, her voice shaky and higher than before. “What do you mean ‘looking into selling the store’?”
“Oh, no, no! Don’t freak out. Your job is totally safe. My parents would still be in charge of hiring and firing, and I’m sure they’d keep you around,” Nicholas reassured her. “I’m mostly just selling the rights to the store. Letting someone else take control, behind the scenes. The Kerstmans would still be the face, but someone else will be doing all the dirty work, accounting, leasing, all the boring stuff.”
The shocked look still didn't leave her face. If anything, she now looked angry.
“The boring stuff? You mean all the stuff that makes the store ours—I mean, makes the store your parents’ store? Yeah, that stuff can be annoying, but it’s part of owning something that’s ours— I mean yours.” Molly’s face grew more and more flustered. “I mean, sell the store? Can you even do that? How can you even think of doing that? Do your parents know?”
Nicholas had to resist the urge to smile at her barage of questions.
“My name’s on the deed,” Nicholas explained. “Dad handed it over to me a few years back. I haven’t told them about selling the store yet, but I think they’ll understand. You and I both know they’re not getting any younger, Ms. Molly. Who’s supposed to run the store when they’re retired and living full-time in Miami?”
“I don’t know,” Molly admitted, her eyes now meeting his. “But there has to be some other way, Nicholas. You can’t just sell the store. And it’s not about me. I don’t care if you wanted to fire me tomorrow. Christmas Wishes means so much to the town. To everybody.”
“The store would still be here,” he assured her.
Molly shook her head and then looked around the store. “I don’t think it’d be the same if you let someone else come in and change everything.”
“What wouldn’t be the same? You’d still be here. My parents would still be here—”
“Its heart. Its magic.” Molly’s tone was serious as she took a step towards Nicholas. “You can’t just change something in a recipe and expect it to taste like it did yesterday. It’s going to be different, whether you think so or not.”
Nicholas sighed. “I’m sorry. I don’t know if there’s another way—”
“You. There’s you. Can’t you just run the store?” Molly asked.
“Ms. Molly, do I really seem like the Christmas type to you?” Nicholas asked, motioning to himself. “It’s not really my kind of holiday.”
She looked him over and then shook her head again. “But it has to be your kind of holiday! You’re a Kerstman. It’s in your blood,” she told him. He liked her passion. “And even if it isn’t in your blood, there still has to be some way to convince you that this store is worth keeping in your family. This store is worth so much more than you could sell it for.”