Fairytale Christmas with the Millionaire

Graham opened his mouth and then promptly closed it. He wondered what it’d take to get the man on board with the sale. Because Graham was beginning to realize he was going to have to win over the tenants one at a time.

“You could pick out wherever you want to move.” Graham’s gaze moved to the television. “Maybe somewhere close to sporting events so you could see them in person instead of having to watch them on television.”

“I like my television. I can see the game better than if I were there in person.”

It seemed as though Mr. Merryweather—er, Merryweather—was determined to argue with him, no matter what Graham said. The best thing for him to do now was to pick up his red toolbox—er, Alina’s red toolbox—and head out the door.

“I should be going,” Graham said.

“You won’t be back, right?”

What? That was a strange comment. “Not unless you call.”

“No. I mean, next time Alina will come to do the work, right?”

“I’m going to be filling in for Alina until Christmas.”

“Oh.” Talk about a deflated sound.

Graham shifted his weight from foot to foot. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was what his employees thought with him stepping in to fill his father’s place at the helm of the company. He didn’t do things like his father had done for many years. And he knew it bothered a lot of employees.

However, his father’s resistance to change had put the company in a bind. There was no room to grow. And building a new home for Toliver’s was the only way to secure its future.

“What if I were to bring a treat the next time I visit?”

Interest lit up the older man’s face. “What sort of treat?”

Graham didn’t realize details would be necessary. “What would you suggest?”

“Well, I don’t know. You’re the one that mentioned it.”

Technically, Merryweather had been the first to mention a treat. This was all Alina’s fault. Whoever heard of a handyman bringing baked goods to the tenants? Wasn’t it enough to fix whatever may be broken? Leave it to Alina to raise the bar. No wonder no one wanted to move.

“How about sugar cookies?” Graham suggested. “After all, it’s the holiday season.”

“No. Alina bakes the best sugar cookies.”

Graham sighed because the big toolbox was growing heavy and he didn’t want to put it down as that might signal he was staying for a while and that wasn’t the case.

“I know, gingersnaps.” Merryweather smiled. “My mother used to make them. They were just right with a punch of flavor and they snapped when you bit into them.”

Were those Christmas cookies? Graham wasn’t up on his Christmas fare, but then again, did it really matter so long as Merryweather was happy? He just wondered if the Polka Dotted Bakery made them. “Gingersnaps, it is. Goodbye, Mr. Merryweather.”

“Tell Alina I said hi.”

“I’ll do that.”

Graham let himself out of the apartment and headed toward the elevator. Then, realizing that every time he stepped in it he could run into a tenant that inevitably needed something done around their apartment, he opted to take the stairs.

But when he opened the fire door and stepped into the hallway of the first floor, there was an older woman standing outside the building manager’s door. He inwardly groaned.

It was probably another tenant that needed help with something or other. And he really didn’t have time. He had five reports that needed reviewed and two memos to sign off on. How Alina maintained another job in addition to managing the building was totally beyond him. This position seemed to be full-time and then some—and he’d been here less than two hours!

“Can I help you?” he asked.

The older woman turned to him. Her bright red lips pursed together as her eyes narrowed behind black framed glasses. “Do I know you?”

He didn’t recall her from his brief tour the prior evening. But it had gotten too late to meet everyone. “No, you don’t.”