“I posted the video, then sent an email to all the guys on the team and asked them to share it on social media.”
“Oh.” Taylor’s eyes glazed over as thoughts churned in her head. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re a freaking marketing genius too?” More narrow-eyed looks. “I’m watching you.”
“I have been warned,” he echoed, smiling. “So, everything we just talked about gets you here?” Grant tapped the mid-six-figure number at the bottom of Taylor’s income sheet for the prior year.
“It does. Isn’t that crazy?”
“Why didn’t she do this a long time ago? When she saw it was working for you, why didn’t she start doing it then?”
“Her dad was pretty old-fashioned. Believed business should be between two people, face-to-face, and she didn’t want to upset him. Besides, she had too much going on. This is a serious time suck, one that doesn’t immediately pay off, and she was taking complete care of her dad and running the store. Toward the end, her father had to get angry for her to finally allow Hospice to come once a day.”
Grant dropped back in his chair, blew out a long breath, his gaze on the papers that signified limitless opportunities for Faith. A chance at the freedom she should have had in life.
“God, I’m so damned excited about this for her.”
“Right? I’m really excited you got her started. Between the store, my work, and Caleb, we’ve both been so busy, we haven’t been able to work out a time to get it together. Again, this is no Holy Grail in marketing. No perfect system. And there’s a huge amount of work involved, not to mention an incredibly steep learning curve. The results yielded are based on the work put in—”
“You get amazing results.”
“Because I’ve already climbed those mountains. So, I will be doing my best to cut her learning curve into a very flat plateau.”
Grant nodded, but his brain kept repeating: “And she can do it from anywhere.”
His cell rang. He reached for his back pocket. “Hope that’s Faith. She was going to call when she was ready to put up the tables.” But it wasn’t. He glanced at Taylor. “My agent.”
“Oh, okay.” She stood. “We’re done. I’ll get all this from Faith later.”
Grant stood too. “Thanks so much. Faith’s lucky to have such a great friend.”
Once Taylor climbed the basement stairs, Grant answered, “Hey, Nick.”
“Hey, how’s Twisted Christmas?”
That was only one of his agent’s nicknames for Grant’s hometown. But Grant wasn’t in the mood for Nick’s wry humor. “Did they clear me?”
“Not yet.”
He was both frustrated and grateful. “Why not? This is taking freaking forever.”
“Danbar’s on vacation in the Caribbean.”
Doctor Danbar was the last signature Grant needed on his release forms. “Fucking A.” He threaded his hand into his hair. “This is ridiculous.”
“Relax. He’ll be back tomorrow, and I’ve already talked to Max,” Nick said, referencing the team’s manager. “You’ll go right back to first line when you hit the ice. Hey, I’ve got something that will cheer you right up—the perfect way to get you out of that backward little Christmas town and into a place where we know how to do it right.”
Grant squeezed his eyes closed and dropped his hand. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re going to a special event at the sight of the National Christmas Tree and the VIP After-Party hosted by the National Park Foundation. Ted made a big donation to the Foundation this year,” he said, referring to the Rough Riders’ owner, Theodore Hennessey, “and he and Fiona are in France for the holiday. So he’s sending you, Croft, Savage, Donovan, Hendrix, Andrade, and Lawless to represent the team. This is an awesome photo op for you to get your face back into the light after being out eight weeks.”
“Ah, wow, Nick…” His chest tightened. His skin crawled. “You know, I don’t—”
“They’re putting special lights on the tree, selling gourmet hot cider, hot chocolate, roasted chestnuts, shit like that. They’ve even got Giselle Diamond singing Christmas carols. Can you believe that? I mean, I guess I can. She’s a huge proponent of charity, and the proceeds benefit the US Sports Foundation. I’m sure when she heard that, she jumped on board. And, evidently, the president’s daughters are huge Diamond fans.”
This just kept getting worse. “The president is going to be there?”