Fairytale Christmas with the Millionaire
CHAPTER ONE
CHRISTMAS WAS IN the air...
Cheerful holiday tunes played on the radio. The Manhattan storefronts were trimmed in shiny tinsel and twinkle lights. And right here on Holly Lane, the Stirling Apartments’ foyer was decked out with lush garland and a pencil Christmas tree adorned with white lights and red satin balls.
This was hands down Alina Martin’s favorite time of the year. She loved to sing the uplifting carols, all the while pretending she could carry a tune. She loved to decorate the tree. And she loved how the holiday season brought out the best in people. However, this year she was hoping for a Christmas miracle to keep her from losing her beloved home.
But at the moment, her immediate attention was focused on finding her apron. Mentally she recounted her actions the prior evening. The day hadn’t been much out of the ordinary. She’d worked the morning shift at the restaurant tending to the party planning as well as helping out in the dining room before rushing home to do her second job as building manager. Even with a rent-controlled apartment, it wasn’t cheap living in New York City. And yet there was nowhere else in the world she’d rather live.
“Mrrrr...”
She glanced down to find her ginger cat, who she’d affectionately named Prince. They’d first met at a local park. She’d been out for a walk, trying to achieve her ten thousand steps a day, when she’d stopped at a local animal rescue adopt-a-thon. Long story short, Prince picked her out and the rest was history.
When Prince rubbed against her leg, she said, “Begging won’t work. You already had breakfast.”
“Meow.”
Sometimes it was like he could truly understand what she said, “Sorry, sweetie, I can’t hold you, either. I have to leave.”
“Mrrrr...”
He strode away, probably headed back to bed. She wished she could join him.
Alina turned her focus back to her missing apron. She rushed over to the dryer, where she found it at the back of the machine. It was a bit wrinkled. She shook it out with a couple of quick snaps. Good enough.
She rolled up her apron and then stuffed it in her oversize purse. She threw on her red winter coat, a knit cap and her boots. Out the door she went. Noticing the elevator was at the top floor, she opted for the stairs instead. Hers wasn’t a large building, not by New York City standards. But within its five floors, it housed the people she liked to refer to as her adopted family.
She exited the stairwell and rushed up the hallway. Meg, her best friend, stood in the lobby near the mailboxes. Her curly red hair was pulled back in a ponytail. However, instead of her usual sunny smile, she wore a distinct frown. Meg held up a letter. “Have you seen this?”
The worry in her friend’s warm brown eyes drew Alina’s concern. “What is it?”
“It’s another letter about them throwing us out.”
“What?” Alina rushed over to her mailbox. In her
rush, she fumbled with her keys. They fell to the tile floor with a loud jangle.
With a groan of frustration, she bent over to retrieve the keys. Once the little door was open, she withdrew her copy of the letter. Her gaze scanned down over it. The new owner was willing to pay them extra to move out by the new year. That wasn’t going to happen.
With her back to the front door, Alina faced her friend. “Don’t worry. There’s nothing Toliver can do to rush things. He has to wait ninety days before he can begin eviction proceedings.”
“But that’s in February. Even that’s not much time to find a new place to live.”
One of their youngest and newest residents, Jimmy Greene, came rushing past them. He gave a quick nod in greeting but kept going. He must have another interview lined up at a software company. He’d inherited his grandmother’s rent-controlled apartment and was now struggling to find a job in the competitive market of online video gaming.
The door creaked open and closed behind him, letting the cold winter air rush in around them. It also reminded Alina that she had to get a move on.
“We’ll figure something out,” Alina said, hoping her voice sounded encouraging. “Even if I have to go back to that awful man’s office building and stage another protest in the foyer until he agrees to meet with me. From what I’ve read, he inherited his position and he doesn’t know what he’s doing. Well, that’s obvious.” She held up her copy of the letter as proof. “This isn’t going to change Stirling residents’ minds about moving. I’ve got to get to work. We’ll talk later.”
“I’ve got to get going, too. Remember, I have that weeklong seminar in LA. And then I’m spending the next couple of weeks in Wyoming with my parents. But I can cancel—the family visit, not the seminar—if you need me.”
“No. Go. Enjoy yourself. You haven’t seen your family in a year. I’ve got this.”