“Everyone who works for me, yes.”
“But I want your approval on my ideas. I want to know that I’ve met your expectations.”
“Believe me,” he said, a slight smile playing at his lips. “You’ve exceeded my expectations.”
She wanted to do a good job, finish the deal. This money would give her enough to have a real Christmas for Max, one where she could get him everything on his list and make it the best Christmas ever.
Max had asked her once why some kids in his class got such big things from Santa, but he didn’t. He’d worried that he’d been bad somehow, and he didn’t know it. Her heart ached when he’d said that. Under the pressure of that moment, she’d said that Santa did his best to get everyone what they wanted, but he didn’t have enough room in his sleigh to do that for everyone. She promised Max his year would come, but as he was getting older, and the items on his list were more specific and more expensive, she feared it wouldn’t happen. She was running out of years. Pretty soon, he wouldn’t believe in Santa anymore, and she wouldn’t have the chance to prove her statement true.
Abbey cut a piece of chicken. They ate quietly for a while before Nick finally spoke. “Something is troubling you. I can tell by your face.”
She shook her head a little too quickly, heat burning her cheeks, and she knew he saw through it. He was quietly watching her with those beautiful blue eyes, waiting for her to come clean. She chewed on her lip as she tried to find something to say. She didn’t want to tell him that she needed the money. She was too proud for that.
“You’re paying me to decorate your home, yet you don’t want any input in it. It just worries me a little,” she said, offering him half the truth.
His gaze was unstill as he searched for an explanation or an answer—something in response—but she spoke again before he could say anything.
“Would it be okay if I ask you some things to try to get a feeling for who you are? It sounds silly to you, I’m sure, but it would be so helpful as I’m putting things together. Nothing too personal or anything,” she smiled shyly. “Just to get to know you.”
“Of course.”
Abbey took a moment to collect herself. She was sitting opposite a millionaire in his home, and she was able to ask him anything she wanted. Who got this kind of opportunity? Questions were coming to her in rapid fire, and she didn’t want to waste the chance by asking the wrong questions.
“What were you like as a kid?” she asked, immediately worrying that she’d just asked him too personal a question after she’d said she wouldn’t. But these were the kinds of things she needed to know if she wanted to do a good job for him.
“Quiet.” He smiled at her, and it twisted her stomach so much that she looked down at her plate and cut a piece of chicken.
“You just have one sister?” She looked back up at him.
“Yes.”
“Who’s the oldest?”
“Robin. She is four years older than I.”
This idea warmed her. Second children had very independent personalities, she once learned in her psychology class at the community college. But they did their own thing, they were often the quiet leaders, they could manage people well because of their empathy for others and their easy-going nature. She thought about the pies he’d sent over.
“I think four years apart is good. Perfectly spaced. I think about these kinds of things and I only have one child.” She smiled.
“You’d get along with my mother,” he chuckled.
“Where is she?”
“Colorado. She moved away after my father died.”
Had that been why he’d gotten quiet on the phone before when she’d talked about her father and how he’d passed away? They had that in common, and now she wanted to know his story. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
She waited to see if she should delve into that any further, but his expression seemed to be anticipating her next question, so she pressed ahead. “Are you more like your mother or your father?”
His face was thoughtful, but it was clear the answer was already on his lips. “My father.”
“Why?”
“How is this helping you decorate my house?” His expression made her feel as though she could be playful a little with him. She liked that.
“I’m getting to know you. It helps me pick things out that I think you might like. How are you and your father alike?”
“We both have relatively even temperaments. We believe in fairness.” He stopped and cleared his throat. “If you stay with traditional décor and don’t do anything too over the top, I’ll be happy with what you choose,” he added, obviously trying to put an end to this questioning.