'Twas the Week Before Christmas. Olivia Miles

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      Chapter Three

      The long drive to the main road was cleared, but the three-mile drive to the center of town was not. Max squinted through the snow, which was gaining momentum, the wipers doing little to keep the powder from accumulating on the windshield. Maneuvering his rented SUV through the snow banks, Max discovered he had a newfound reason for preferring city life.

      It was a welcome reminder. He was becoming too relaxed in Maple Woods. He belonged in the big city; he knew it. He just needed to remember it.

      Turning onto Main Street, Max clenched his jaw at the sight. Pine garlands wrapped around every lamppost, sealed with joyful crimson bows. Wreaths hung on the door of every shop. Pristine white snow covered every rooftop. Everything was almost eerily calming and peaceful.

      It was like something out of a Norman Rockwell painting. But he would not allow himself to be seduced by its charm.

      Pulling to a stop at the address he had jotted down, Max stepped out of the vehicle and paid the meter for the maximum time. He hoped it wouldn’t take more than half an hour to convince the mayor of his plan, but if it took all day, so be it. He had no intention of leaving town without that land.

      Business was in trouble and it had been for some time. People weren’t shopping in malls anymore. They preferred the convenience of online shopping, the gratification of making a purchase in their pajamas at midnight, the thrill of receiving a package with their name on it in the mail five days later. Of Hamilton Properties’ existing portfolio, half the centers were struggling. Development initiatives had been placed on hold for two years, but too much man power, time and energy had gone into this project. And big-name retailers were depending on him to get the job done. If he didn’t, more than one department store was already threatening to pull out of under-performing centers. Without those anchors, the struggling malls would collapse.

      Hamilton Properties had seen three of their competitors file bankruptcy. Only one other remained in business, and they’d already made more than one offer to buy out Hamilton’s portfolio. But Max wasn’t going down without a fight. He had built this company from the ground up, founding it when he was only twenty-two. It had been a roller-coaster of ups and downs over the years, and lately it had been mostly downhill, but he wasn’t ready for the ride to be over. Not yet.

      “Max Hamilton to see Mayor Pearson,” he said confidently to the friendly woman behind the reception desk.

      “Just have a seat, he’ll be out shortly. Last-minute phone call and all that.” The woman smiled at him as her eyes roamed over his chest, narrowing on his tie. “Not from around these parts, are you?”

      Max spared a wry grin. “That obvious?”

      “Most folks in Maple Woods don’t wear suits and ties. Especially on days like this,” she said. Her smile brightened to reveal a dimple when she admitted, “But I like a man in a suit. Always did.”

      Max nodded and rocked back on his heels, his eyes taking in the miniature Christmas tree on the woman’s desk. She’d even hung tiny metallic ornaments on its small, plastic branches. Her sweater had a snowman knitted into it with some sort of textured yarn. Christmas carols bleated softly from the radio on the corner of her desk and at least fifty holiday cards were propped on every filing cabinet, desk, or other surface.

      Seems Holly isn’t the only one who loves Christmas, he mused.

      Max raked his fingers through his hair and stepped away from the desk. It was definitely time to get back to New York.

      A set of leather chairs was lined against the wall. Max sat down on the farthest and pulled a magazine from a pile on the coffee table. Absentmindedly flicking through it, his gaze shifted back to the woman at the desk, who was now humming along to some holiday tune, munching on a Christmas cookie and casually directing the computer mouse with her free hand.

      “Oh, I’m sorry!” she exclaimed when she felt his stare. She brushed the crumbs from her mouth guiltily. “Did you want a cookie?”

      Max held up a hand and gave a tight smile. “No. Thank you.”

      The woman frowned. “You sure? They’re good. Promise. I made them myself.”

      Max glanced to the mayor’s door. “I shouldn’t, but thanks again.”

      He returned his focus to the magazine, feeling anxious and out of place. He shouldn’t have worn the suit. It might turn the mayor off; might make him think Max was strolling into town looking to tear things down and take over. It wasn’t his intention at all. But it might just look that way.

      Max looked back to the receptionist, who was now plucking another cookie from her tin. “Can I ask you a question?”

      The woman looked up and beamed, flattered to be asked for an opinion. “Certainly!” she exclaimed, opening her eyes wide.

      “Think I should lose the tie?” Max grinned.

      The woman’s lips pursed in pleasure. “Definitely.”

      * * *