Christmas in Bayberry

“No worries, dear. You’ll like her. She’s the sweetest.”

Why was he going to like her? He didn’t have any plans to meet his mother’s friend. “Mom, I don’t understand, and I really have to go. Can we talk about this later?”

“My friend, Penney, owns The Bayberry Candle Company.”

She said it as though it was supposed to mean something to him. “I’m not following.”

He grabbed the file for Mr. Summers. Wes’s gaze moved to the time on the lower right corner of his computer monitor. Five minutes and counting. He moved quickly. His elbow struck a stack of reports for his meeting. He reached out. They fell into his hands.

“My friend, she needs you to come to Bayberry and advise her on her business.”

He was touched that his mother was talking him up, but he couldn’t drop everything. “Mom, I can’t just leave the office.” He straightened the papers. “It doesn’t work like that. Right now, I have to get to an important meeting. Can we talk more later?”

“Sure. But there’s something else you should know—”

“Mom, I really have to go. I promise to call you back. You can tell me all about your friend’s situation this evening.”

“Okay, dear. Love you.”

“Love you too.” He disconnected the call, grabbed the file for Mr. Summers and rushed out the door. If he hurried, he’d make it to the meeting in the nick of time.

He hoped Mr. Summers was out of his office or tied up on the phone so he could drop the file folder off and keep going.

Mr. Summers looked up and smiled. “Wes. Just the man I need to see.”

Wes glanced in the office, finding Chad lounged back in one of the leather armchairs. Chad with his white-blond hair and too-bright teeth, was another senior analyst—also very eager for the assistant vice president position.

“That will be all, Chad,” Mr. Summers said.

“Yes sir. You can count on me. If you need anything else—anything at all—you know where to find me.” On Chad’s way out the door, he paused and grinned at Wes. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure all of your accounts are handled.” And then he tucked his thumbs in his gray suspenders and sauntered down the hall in his designer suit and shiny shoes.

My accounts? What?

Chad must be confused. That was the only reasonable explanation. Although when Mr. Summers gestured for him to enter the office, Wes got a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.

He entered the very spacious corner office. The two outside walls were glass, giving a jaw-dropping view of the city. Right now, though, Mr. Summers had his full attention. Why did Chad think he was taking over Wes’s accounts?

Wes stepped up to his boss’s very large oak desk. “Here’s the file you requested. Everything should be in there.”

“Thank you.” Mr. Summers took the folder, then gestured to the two charcoal gray chairs in front of his desk. “Take a seat.”

Wes was torn between doing what the president of the company wanted or speaking up about his pending meeting. After all, Mr. Summers had the final say on who got the promotion. Wes had to stay on the man’s good side, but he also had to get his work done.

Wes’s mouth grew dry. He swallowed hard. “Sir, I’m expected in the conference room on the twelfth floor right now.”

Mr. Summers leaned forward, resting his elbows on the large oak desk. “They can wait.” His gray brows drew together in a formidable line. “This is important.”

Wes had no idea why Mr. Summers was so worked up, but he couldn’t help but wonder if this had something to do with the promotion. Was Chad being promoted over him?

He took a seat, perching on the edge. Then realizing he needed to appear wholeheartedly interested in what Mr. Summers said, and not ready to rush out the door at his first opportunity, Wes slid back in the chair.

Mr. Summers got to his feet. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No, thank you.”

“Well, I think I’ll get something.”

The man was certainly not in any rush to get this conversation over with. Maybe the promotion had been decided upon early. And if it was bad news, he didn’t think Mr. Summers would waste time with pleasantries—in fact, he was quite certain of it. He wasn’t one to draw out bad news.