A Lot Like Christmas. Dawn Atkins
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like a jail door slammed between them. “Anyway, I hated filing. Mom would tell me even dream jobs have boring parts. I never bought that. I still don’t.”
“Yeah? Your work is exciting every day?”
“Always something new. That’s how I like it.”
“I can imagine,” she said, hoping he found mall work as dull as dirt. “And your project here—Home at Last—that’s exciting, too?”
“Very much so. The architect, builder and lenders are donating their services or cutting their rates to make this work. If all goes well Nadia’s son will be one of our first clients.”
“Nadia? Your housekeeper?”
“Yep. Her son Sergei and his wife and two little girls have been living with Nadia since they lost their home in the crash.”
“Wow. So it’s great that you can help them.”
“If it works out, yeah.” There was a light in his eye while he talked about this. He clearly would rather be there than here. That was a good sign for Sylvie, too. “So how about breakfast? Can I treat you to one of Sunni’s cranberry scones?”
“We should go over the Black Friday promotion, which I had to skip yesterday.” But Chase had a boyish, eager look that Sylvie couldn’t ignore. “I guess we could start with rounds.”
“Rounds? What, like in a hospital?”
“Exactly. The manager is kind of like a doctor. You keep your finger on the pulse of all the stores, triage the problems, offer cures. You’ll want to visit every tenant at least twice a week, maybe more, depending on what else is going on.”
“Twice a week for a checkup? That’s a lot.”
“Early diagnosis is crucial. If we keep the tenants happy and successful, they stay on. As the manager, you’re their friend, priest, therapist. Sometimes even parent. The owners will want to confide in you.”
“And complain?” he asked.
“That’s mostly my department. The AC’s not cool enough, the roll-up gate is sticking. All the building issues are mine. Utilities, maintenance, security. Capital requests, too, since I do all the budgets.”
“My job is handholding?”
“Sure, but you do need to be educated.” She picked up Mall Management, A-Z from Mary Beth’s bookshelf and held it out to him. “Bedside reading.”
“Maybe later.”
She set it on the desk. “I’m serious, Chase. You should know sales strategies, how to analyze market niches, assess advertising profiles, everything, really. The stores always need ideas for increasing their conversion rate.”
“The conversion rate?”
“Converting shopper to buyer. Mall lingo. No store makes money if all it gets is lookie-loos, so we have to turn shoppers into buyers to survive.”
“Makes sense.”
“There’s a lot to this, Chase. I want you to know what you’re in for.”
“Oh, I’m afraid I do.” Something about the way he said that gave her a pinch of concern.
“So, breakfast and rounds?” She grabbed the two boxes of red umbrellas with their cheery promise and felt a pang.
“What are those for?”
“A morale boost.” Sylvie opened an umbrella. “With Mary Beth leaving so abruptly, I wanted to reassure everyone. There’s one for each tenant. You can hand them out when I introduce you. I doubt everyone’s read my email about you being the new GM, so expect some startled looks.”
And each one would break her heart all over again. She’d expected today’s rounds to be a triumphant tour, a chance to reassure everyone that life at the mall would only get better with her in charge.
Don’t worry, be happy, she reminded herself, leading the way to the mall floor.
Their first stop was Jumpin’ Juice. “Hey, Theo,” she called to the owner.
He turned from one of his blenders, “Just who I needed to see,” he said, lifting the counter pass-through and joining them.
“I’d like you to meet Chase McCann, our new GM.”
“Yes, you mentioned that in your email,” he said coolly. Theo had wanted to circulate a petition of protest, but Sylvie had talked him out of it.
“Nice to meet you, Theo,” Chase said.
Theo looked him dead-on. “Just so you know, Sylvie is the glue that holds this mall together.”
“That’s what I hear,” Chase said.
“Do you have a minute to try some new combos?” Theo asked her. “You were right about the star fruit, by the way. Pear is cheaper and tastes just as good.”
“That will cut your costs. Would you bring Chase a Berry Blend protein shake? It’s my favorite,” she said to Chase. She led him to a tiny table, where they sat altogether too close, though she’d sat here many times with Theo and not thought twice about the intimacy.
She felt all too aware of Chase’s broad shoulders, muscular chest, the strong planes of his face and those dark eyes of his, which locked on to hers as if he never wanted to let go.
Was he this way with every woman? He confused her. One minute he looked like he wanted to eat her alive and the next he was giving her a noogie.
“When you laid out my duties you didn’t mention taste testing.” Chase tilted his head, teasing her.
“I do whatever they need me to do,” she said.
Theo returned with three juice mix samples, along with Chase’s shake, which he grudgingly slid across the table. Sylvie sipped each flavor, one at a time, savoring it against the roof of her mouth.
She pushed two of the cups toward Theo. “These two are great.” She tapped the third. “This one, the flavors clash too much.”
“You have the best taste buds,” Theo said with a sigh, along with that wistful look they both pretended didn’t exist. “Thanks, Sylvie.”
“This is for you,” Chase said, holding out an umbrella.
Theo took it, carrying it at arm’s length as if it smelled bad as he headed back to his booth.
“You have the best taste buds?” Chase whispered to her.
“He likes to get opinions, okay?”
“He’s hot for you, Sylvie.”
“We’re friends.”
“Not if he had his way, trust me.”
Theo was sweet, a good listener and an interesting man. If they didn’t work together, she might even consider going out with him. He’d be easy to spend time with. She kept her dating habits orderly. No more than two nights a week and nothing intense. She wasn’t ready for intense. She wasn’t sure she ever would be.
That awful crush she’d had on Chase was her first lesson in how crazy she might get. Her mother was the second. Desiree was impulsive and romantic, treating her heart like a throw pillow, tossing it to a guy way too early. Then, when he failed to catch it or threw it back, she sank into depression. Sylvie did not have the resilience for that much misery.
She needed a stable life with no roller coasters.
“You’ve probably got every unattached man here and half the married ones drooling over you,” Chase mused. “That’s ridiculous.”
He tilted his head. “You still don’t know how hot you are, do you? It’s probably better that way. You might be tempted to use your powers against us and we’d be putty in your hands.”