Christmas at the Candied Apple Café. Katherine Garbera
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this month.
He finished the call with a stern warning just as a text message notification popped up on the bottom of his computer monitor. His assistant, the usually efficient and seemingly unsentimental Lexi, had ”elfed” herself and made that her photo on the company server, so each time he got a text, instead of seeing a professional image, he had one of her with a striped elf hat on.
LEXI: Your three o’clock has cancelled. Can you squeeze in a meeting tomorrow morning?
She sounded like her normal, efficient self but all he could see in the company chat window was that stupid elf photo.
Mads suspected Iona’s cancelation of the meeting had more to do with cold feet than timing. He’d been cultivating the relationship with her since the end of August and she was very cautious about getting involved with another brand. He didn’t blame her.
The Candied Apple Café was unique – a combination of handmade chocolates in the European style with locally sourced ingredients. Their chocolate chef was the daughter of famed frozen-food guru Arthur Dunham. Unlike Dunham Dinners, the truffles and chocolate treats she created for their shop were anything but run of the mill.
He heard the third partner Cici Johnson was a wiz at numbers and she had to be good to have managed to show a profit at that high rent location on Fifth Avenue as quickly as they had. Part of it was Iona’s marketing strategy. She knew how to get attention and had used some events and advertising that was out of the box.
He was impressed with the three of them and wanted them to be part of the Loughman Group properties. But she had canceled. He glanced at his watch and then at his calendar.
He didn’t have any more meetings this afternoon, which made him think of something that his dad used to always say to him and his brother when they were growing up. The fish aren’t going to jump in the boat unless you’re on the lake.
The lake he needed to be on was on Fifth Avenue.
He looked at the chat window and tried not to grimace. He knew he was borderline Scrooge this year, but still. It was …
Frustrating.
He wasn’t in the mood for Christmas. Normally, he would be able to tolerate it. But not this year. It was the first without his wife and frankly he had lost the ability to pretend. To be fake happy and act like a jolly fat man might bring his daughter toys. But nothing, no amount of prayer or belief, had been able to save his wife.
MADS: No. I’ll stop by the Candied Apple Café and see her. Has my daughter been dropped off yet?
Lexi opened the door to his office and poked her head inside. No elf hat in real life. Instead she wore a cream-colored silk blouse and her short blonde hair was neatly styled around her face. No hat elf or otherwise was on her head. She gave him her usual cool, professional style and he had to admit, it was exactly what he needed. He’d scheduled as many meetings as he could for December. He needed to stay busy.
“Sofia and Jessie have just arrived at the hotel and they were planning to tour the gingerbread kitchen with Chef Gustav. Should I have her come up here instead?” Lexi asked.
Each year the New York Common created a gingerbread version of the Upper East Side neighborhood where it was situated. And this year was no exception. The display would be installed over the coming weekend and have a grand opening on December 1st.
Mads stood up and walked around the desk, smiling at his assistant. Jessie was his daughter’s nanny. “No. I’ll go and meet them. Thank you, Lexi.”
“For what?”
“Putting up with my grumpiness.”
“You weren’t grumpy to me, Mads,” she said gently.
“I was grumpy in my head at you,” he said.
“Well, I think that’s allowed. What did I do that bothered you?” she asked.
“Nothing. It was me. Text me if anything arises this afternoon. I’m going to try to get Iona to take a meeting with me at the Café.”
“Of course. Have fun.”
“It’s the beginning of the biggest shopping season of the year and I’ve just committed to taking a six-year-old to a candy store; fun’s not the word I’d use.”
Lexi laughed as Mads walked past her and out of the office.
He took the elevator down to the lobby and listened to the jazzy Christmas music. He exited just as “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” began to play. He hurried his steps, weaving neatly through the crowds; he’d sent his driver a text message to meet him out front. He saw the waiting car and made his way to it.
He had no idea what Iona Summerlin looked like, but he looked forward to meeting her. On the phone she sounded sophisticated, professional, and occasionally she was a little self-deprecating. In fact, he was looking forward to meeting someone who was as focused on business as he was.
Walking through the lobby of the New York Common, the luxury hotel refurbished from its 1920s glory to a fully fitted, five-star resort, Mads Eriksson couldn’t help feeling a sense of pride. As CEO of the Loughman Hotel Group he’d been instrumental in buying the old resort from the family that owned it and restoring it to bring it up to the Loughman Group standards.
It was one of only fifteen properties owned by the group. Each was unique, with bespoke luxury indigenous to the country and city it was from. There were some features, like the high-end retail options, which were offered at all Loughman properties. Mads and the board had a strict policy of exclusivity with each of the vendors who were in their properties.
***
The Candied Apple was slammed with customers and everyone was working behind the counter. According to the buzz she heard around the shop and in the back in the café, the windows were a big success. Cici had left after the photo shoot to go back home to her baby, Holly. She was only two months old and Cici was trying to balance working with being a new mom.
Iona had jumped behind the counter, having grown up working in her family’s department store so she’d cut her teeth working on the register and customer service. And they’d run out of the advent calendars filled with unique chocolate treats for each day. Iona had worked with a designer to make sure the boxes matched the windows on the storefront.
Iona wove her way through the crowd to the storeroom behind the kitchen where the boxed Advent chocolate calendars were stored. They had three more shelves of them and though they were already a few days into December, the boxes proved to be a top seller.
She jotted a note on the huge whiteboard that they used for inventory counts that Hayley might need to do more chocolates for the advent boxes.
Then she took a huge armful, trying to balance the chocolates while opening the door with one arm. Her mother was always scolding her for trying to carry too much in one trip, but it worked.
Ha.
She stumbled into someone, yelping as she lost her balance. The boxes started to slide as the man caught her and a child’s hands tried to catch the boxes and keep them from falling.
She looked up into eyes the color of a winter sky. Grey and blue mixed together, she felt a jolt of awareness before she stepped back and righted the boxes she was still holding.
“Here’s one,” the little girl said. She had thick, dark- brown hair that curled around her face and her eyes were a deep chocolate brown.
“Thanks,” Iona said, smiling a little ruefully at him. Her mom was right. Not for the first time either.
“You’re welcome. Iona Summerlin?” he asked. His voice was rich and deep, brushing over her senses like the blast of warmth from a roaring fire.
“Yes … how did you know?”
“Mads Eriksson. We’ve spoken several times on the phone,” he said. Of course, he