'Twas the Week Before Christmas (9 page)

Max pounded the snow off his boots on the mat and followed George into the cramped living room. “Is Bobby still in school?” he asked.

“Winter break,” George replied.

“Ah,” Max said.

“Those were the days, weren’t they?” George said ruefully, and Max felt his lips thin.

He had loved the academic side of school—the distraction and hope that reading and learning provided. When he was very young, he looked forward to the school year, seeing it as an escape from his unhappy home life. By the time he was in middle school, his classmates had grown mean, and Max dreaded the shame he felt from the judgment in the eyes of his classmates, the pity in the faces of his teachers. They knew all about his father—about the brawls down at the bar, about the black eyes and drunken tirades. Those who lived close enough heard the doors slamming, the glass breaking as it hit the walls. They saw the flashing lights from the police cruisers late at night. It was a common sight, but the dread Max felt the next day never faded.

And they all knew about his mother, of course.... His teachers had been particularly kind to him as a result, he knew. But he didn’t want their sympathy. He didn’t want anyone’s sympathy.

Holly’s words that morning at breakfast had made him pause. He’d almost opened up to her then and there. What had he been thinking? He didn’t open up to anyone. Those who knew his story taunted and teased or felt sorry for him. He didn’t want anyone to think that way of him again.

“I loved school, actually,” Max managed. And despite it all, he had. He’d considered dropping out more than once by the time he was in high school, but he knew that a good education was his only chance at a better life, so he stuck with it.
And look at me now,
he thought. He should feel proud, he should feel successful, but being here in the Miller house, a house not much bigger than the one he’d grown up in, just depressed the hell out of him.

It was this damn town, he told himself. It was making him soft. Making him wish for things he could never have.

“Is Bobby a senior?” Max inquired, shifting his thoughts back to the conversation.

“A junior,” George replied.

“I imagine he’s busy applying to colleges, then. Isn’t this the year for it?”

George dodged the question by taking Max’s coat and hanging it in a hall closet. Eventually he said, “We’ll see about college. He’s hoping for a scholarship. He’s quite good at football.”

Max nodded, thinking of how quickly circumstances could change.

“So you’re staying at The White Barn Inn?” George asked, sinking down into a well-worn armchair.

Max took a seat on a sofa, noticing the threadbare quality of the fabric. “I am,” he said. “It’s a beautiful establishment.”

“Holly does a good job with it,” George mused. “She’s a sweetheart, that one.”

Max allowed himself an internal grimace. It seemed Holly had succeeded in charming the whole town, not just him. “I take it you know her well?”

“She’s friendly with my wife. Lucy supplies the inn with those pies you like so much.”

Max gave an easy smile. “Your wife is very talented.”

George did a poor job at masking his pride. “What can I say? I’m a lucky man.”

Looking around the cramped, simple room, Max had a moment of clarity. George
was
happy with his life. It didn’t suit Max’s needs any more than it seemed to suit Miller’s son, but to George it was enough.

And that wasn’t good. Max had thought it impossible for the Millers to turn down the sum he was ready to offer, but now he wasn’t so sure. They didn’t seem to yearn for much more than they had. They were uncomfortably friendly with Holly. What reason would they have to sell the land to him? If it wasn’t for cold hard cash, than what other motivation could he give them?

“Has Lucy thought about branching out with her pies?” Max asked.

“Oh, she’s got dreams of opening a little bakery,” George said, “but she’s too busy running the diner to pursue that right now. He smiled fondly. “She wants to call it Sweetie Pie. She’s been saving for years, but it hasn’t added up to much.”

“You could bring in extra help at the diner to free up her time for another business,” Max offered.

“Help doesn’t come free, and neither does another rent payment,” George replied and Max felt a flicker of hope spark. “We’d hoped Bobby would help out more at the diner, but he’s too busy running around with his friends to roll up his sleeves on our account.”

Max rearranged himself on the couch and gave a benign smile. It wasn’t his place to comment on a situation he had only just come into.

“Lucy thinks getting him out of Maple Woods for a while will be good for him, but I’m not so sure. The kid needs to grow up and once he does, I think he’ll decide to follow in his old man’s footsteps. We’d love for him to take over the diner one day, maybe grow it into something bigger even.”

Max said nothing, using the time instead to consider his best approach. George Miller was a man of deep roots. He was tied to Maple Woods. The situation—from Max’s view—was bleak.

“Enough about me,” George finally said. “You wanted to meet with me and I have to say, I’m curious. What can I help you with?”

Max inhaled deeply. This was it. If George Miller shot him down, his efforts in Maple Woods would be finished. His purpose for staying gone. He’d have to head back to New York immediately to start salvaging the project and he would most likely never see Holly again. If George turned him down, news of Max’s attempts to swipe her home out from under her would travel back shortly, possibly before he’d even have time to pack his bags and peel out of town.

“My company, Hamilton Properties, is a major retail developer. We have centers throughout the country. Twenty-six in total.”

George nodded his head gravely. “Impressive.”

“I’ll get right to the point, George. For some time now my company has been strategizing to build a shopping center approximately halfway between Boston and New York City. We’ve done extensive research and planning, including securing several major retailers in order to get the bank to approve the loan. All of these efforts are hinging on one thing, location. We’ve pulled the demographics and we’ve driven around several sites. We feel very strongly that your parcel would be the ideal location for our center.”

George’s jaw slacked. “My parcel? You mean...The White Barn Inn?”

Max was brisk. “Yes.”

Gobsmacked, George sat back in his chair, saying nothing as he digested the information. “Wow. I don’t even know what to say.”

“I understand this must feel random. I wasn’t informed that you owned the land until two days ago.”

“Are you aware that I have a verbal agreement with Holly Tate to sell her that land?”

Max swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth. “Yes, I’m aware. Is this why you never put the land up for sale before? A parcel of this size is worth a lot of money.”

George’s brow creased with trouble. “Holly’s our friend. Her family has leased the land for generations... It just didn’t feel like it was ours to sell.”

“Well, I can assure you it is your land to sell.”

George’s expression fell and after a beat, he tossed up his hands. “I’ve had this arrangement in place with her for...years. I’m supposed to transfer the deed to her on Christmas Day. It’s already been decided. I’m...I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you’re too late.”

Max blew out a breath. Slipping his hand into the leather briefcase at his feet, he pulled out the offer he had drawn up before coming to Maple Woods. He extended his arm across the coffee table to George. “If you wouldn’t mind taking a look at this before you make your decision, I’d appreciate it. I’m under the impression that there is nothing legally binding the sale to Holly at this point, correct?”

“That’s correct. However, there was a stipulation in the original lease that said the lessee—Holly’s family—would have first rights to the purchase of the property on the expiration of their lease. That thing is ninety-nine years old. And here we are, less than a week before it expires.” George sighed and reached for the paper Max was extending. The color drained from his face as his eyes scanned the page.

“It’s a fair price for the land, I can assure you,” Max said evenly. He could only imagine what George Miller must be thinking right now. Though he didn’t know how much Holly and the Millers had agreed on for the purchase of the land, he thought it safe to assume it was less than five percent of the offer he was making.

“What about Holly?” George asked when he managed to find his voice.

“So long as we come to an agreement before Christmas Day when the lease expires, I don’t think there should be a problem.” Max cleared his throat. He had four days before that land essentially transferred to Holly for a fraction of its value, and he couldn’t risk trying to sway her to sell. His best bet was dealing directly with George Miller.

“And the inn?”

Max’s stomach tightened.

“I’m afraid it will have to be razed.” He paused.
May as well say it.
“The barns would have to be torn down, as well. I understand there are some orchards. Those would be leveled. Basically, everything would have to be cleared to leave room for the foundation and the parking lot. A center of this size requires a lot of land.”

“But why our land, specifically? Surely there must be other—”

Max shook his head. “No. Believe me. A lot of time has gone into finding the perfect location for this development. We have to look at the size of the parcel, the proximity to competing centers, the distance to major highways, the general age range and income of the population within radiuses of various mileages. Consumer behavior... I could continue, if you’d like.”

“And all that led you to our land?”

“Yes.” Max steepled his fingers and looked down at the scuffed floorboards. swallowed hard and gritted his teeth. Everything he was stating was a fact. A cold, hard fact. There was no other option. The only way for this development to flourish was if it was built on the land that housed Holly’s inn.

So why was he having so much trouble accepting that himself?

George let out a long whistle and looked around the crowded room, processing some inner thought. “Understand the position I’m in, Max. Holly is a dear friend of my wife’s and I’m fond of her as well. The town loves her. And that inn—everyone loves that inn.”

“I wish I could say we could save the inn, but we can’t. It sits too far back from the road, and it cuts into too much of the acreage. Believe me when I say that I wish it could be different. But...it can’t.” Now that his plans were being spoken aloud and set into motion, Max felt dizzy with guilt. The metallic taste in his mouth was a physical reminder of how corrupt his behavior was, even to himself. He meant what he said, that he wished this could be different. But he was a realist, and he knew that some things just were what they were. And he was going to tear down The White Barn Inn the first chance he had.

“Will the town even approve this?” George asked.

“That’s a good question,” Max said. “I spoke to the mayor yesterday. He said it was your decision. If you agreed to the sale, the plans for the mall would go to a vote with the planning committee.”

“Does anyone else know?”

“No, and I think it’s best if we keep it that way,” Max said as his thoughts again drifted to Holly. “The mayor would rather not make this public knowledge as he anticipates a polarizing reaction from the community. If you decide to sell the land to me, I’ll call him and let him know and he will take it from there.”

George opened his eyes wide as the enormity of the decision he was faced with became a reality.

“If the planning committee doesn’t approve the mall, I have a clause in the contract that permits Hamilton Properties to rescind the offer,” Max explained.

George lowered his eyes to read over the papers once more. “I’d like to take some time to talk this over with Lucy.”

“Of course,” Max said. “But please bear in mind that time is running out. If you agree to sell to me, I will need some time to put the project before the planning committee, and Christmas is only four days away.”

“I’ll have an answer to you one way or the other as soon as I can,” George assured him. He rose from the armchair and Max held out a hand.

“Thank you for your time,” Max said. “And if we can keep this from Holly, I’d appreciate it. I know Lucy and she are friends, but I’d rather not have to upset her if there isn’t reason to.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” George said. He handed Max his parka and shoved his hands into his jeans. “You’re sure there would be no way to save the inn? Put the mall behind it maybe?”

Max shook his head. “Impossible. The blueprints are all drawn up and there simply isn’t room. The inn is located in the middle of the planned parking structure. There’s no other way to allow for enough spaces. I can show you the drawings if you’d like. They’re in my car.”

George waved his hand dismissively. “No, no. I just thought I’d ask. If you say it won’t work then I trust you.”

Trust me
. Max clenched a fist, feeling suddenly suffocated and claustrophobic. The parka was too heavy to wear inside. The ceilings were too low. The room too stuffy. He needed air. He needed to breathe and clear his head and stop, stop, stop thinking about Holly.

Holly trusted him, too. And look what he was doing to her right under her nose. He wished he could just tell her, admit the truth, convince her to leave Maple Woods and start building a life for herself, but he didn’t think he could. Yet.

“I’ll be in touch,” George said as Max trotted down the porch stairs to the driveway, gasping for the cold fresh air.

Max climbed into his rental car and turned the ignition, desperate to get out of George’s driveway before anyone spotted his New York plates. He realized as he gripped the steering wheel that he was shaking. The magnitude of what he had just done was taking effect. He felt confused, lost and out of control. He hadn’t felt this way in years—he had made it a point to avoid ever having to feel this way again. He lived his life in a self-preserving way. And then...then he had met Holly.