"I MEAN the financials look pretty good," Cyrus muttered. "The owner is clearly not doing a distress sale."
Nat was staring at him as if he'd grown a second head, and maybe he had, metaphorically speaking. He was after all, doing a business analysis of a Christmas tree farm. This was now how he'd imagined his holiday would go.
"No," Nat agreed. "Joel is selling because he's ready to retire and his son is not interested in the farm. He was going to surprise my mom with news of the sale."
"Was going to?" Cyrus asked. "The sale didn't close?"
"No," Nat replied. "And how do you know their finances?"
"Someone sent them to me," he replied.
That was technically accurate, and he didn't have to admit that he'd asked for the information. He was genuinely surprised that the farm hadn't been sold. His India team had been positively overjoyed by the current sales figures, the future branding possibilities, and the town itself. Raj, the project manager, had even binge-watched the Holiday Lake Fire Department safety videos, and was now planning a vacation to the town. Raj never took vacations, so Cyrus knew he wanted to personally assess the revenue potential of an acquisition by Blackstone Investments.
"Well, that someone should have sent those financial reports The Blonde Bombshells," Nat replied. "Maybe that would have helped sell the farm."
"The Blonde Bombshells?" Cyrus asked, trying to hide a smile.
Having recently experienced another dose of Lillian's histrionics, he could appreciate Nat's reaction to drama. Ms. Quinn was cool when facing a real crisis, like a challenging last-minute assignment, but she was endearingly flustered when it came to town drama.
And it seemed there was always drama in Holiday Lake.
"Mother-and-daughter team," Nat explained. "Lawyers and real estate agents with extremely skittish clients."
"Ah, I know all about those."
"Apparently, the daughter is Noah's ex-girlfriend," she continued.
Cyrus chuckled. "Yes, I heard about that."
Nat glanced at the front of the house. "You mean—?"
Cyrus nodded. "Leah, it seems, has been imitating my daughter's spying techniques." Cyrus said, taking a sip of coffee.
"Which totally work," Gigi said, sprinting into the room. "Oh my goodness. It is going down outside. They were both pretty angry, but then they started kissing." She made a face. "Ugh, I left pretty quick when I saw that."
"They're young. Of course they made up," Cyrus said.
Gigi's eyes narrowed. "You said that like being young is a bad thing."
He laughed. "I'm taking the Fifth on that, young lady. Go back to your book."
"Will do," she replied. "But I'll keep monitoring the situation."
Nat giggled at that.
"And speaking of books," Gigi said. "I'm almost done with this stack. Can we go back to the mall and get more before mom comes to pick us up?"
Every muscle in Cyrus's body stiffened. How had Gigi found out that Lillian—?
Oh, who was he kidding? Gigi had her ways.
"You're getting picked up in New York, G," he said. "You can order books and have then sent home, in Manhattan."
Home. There, he'd said it out loud.
Manhattan would be the kids' home. He wasn't sure how they would react to that, but it was decided now.
Gigi grimaced. "Okay, but I want more pretzels. Can we go pick those up?"
He frowned and tried again. "Did you hear me? You're going to be living in New York with me now."
Gigi shrugged. "We figured that was going to happen. It's hard to go to school in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea. Mom asked Leah if she would be willing to tutor us."
He'd love to know what Leah said to that. The nanny would have given Lillian an earful.
"How do you feel about that, honey?" he asked Gigi.
"We're totally cool with it," Gigi said. "The school has a great library. I'm going to ask mom for a trip around the Greek isles. I want to visit those cities we saw in the ancient spies documentary."
"Athens and Sparta, and such?"
"Yes, I want to see the tunnels."
"All right," Cyrus replied, knowing a bribery request when he heard one. "I'll talk to your mom, and see what I can do."
"Thanks, Dad," Gigi said. "Do you mind if I turn on the radio station in the other room? I hope they didn't play my request while the firefighters were here. That would suck."
"Go to town," Cyrus replied. "It's Christmas."
Gigi headed back to the living room. A second later the unctuously sweet strains of "All I Want for Christmas is You" wafted through the house.
He frowned. "That sounds like Alvin and the Chipmunks."
"It most certainly is," Nat said. "It's about time for Christmas Cart-Noon. They play funny songs for a couple of hours."
"Well, the kids will enjoy that." Cyrus sighed and turned to Nat. "I don't suppose you know anyone who does ancient Greece tours about spies, do you?"
Nat smiled. "Actually, I'm on a Facebook group for specialty vacation businesses. I think I can find you someone."
"Really?" he asked, picturing a mixed Christmas/Spartan Facebook group.
But Nat looked dead serious about this. "There's a history professor in Mykonos doing tours. I bet he can do spies."
He smiled. A history professor? Was there nothing this woman couldn't do?
"You're a life-saver," he said.
Nat shook her head. "I wish. I still have to deal with my mom and Joel. According to Noah, his dad was going to call my mom today. I hope that went well." She patted her pocket. "No phone call yet."
"Maybe no news is good news."
"I hope so. I want her to be happy." Nat said, and then smiled. "And I don't want to end up taking my heartbroken mother to Mexico with me."
"Is that likely to happen?" he asked.
If it did, it would seriously impair his plans. He had cleared his calendar for the next couple of weeks, and with the kids going off to discuss their future with Lillian and Leah finding a new guy, his time was open.
And the possibilities were intriguing.
"I sure hope not," Nat replied. "Should I text her, do you think?"
He leaned back against the kitchen counter.
Nat did not seem like herself. The self-possessed, confident woman he'd met—and, let's face it—fallen for, was suddenly uncertain and confused. She still looked as gorgeous as ever in an emerald-colored turtleneck that made her eyes shine even greener, but those eyes were now clouded with worry and her usual take-charge smile was gone.
This would not do.
"Why are you so worried?" he asked.
She stared intently at the floor. "You know how it is when you're dealing with family."
Cyrus laughed. "No, I don't." He glanced back at the living room. "But I'm learning. Thanks to you."
She glanced at him.
"You weren't doing too badly." She sighed. "Better than me."
"I didn't do too badly because I had a master planner leading me along. Would I have thought of going to Mall of America on my own? Would I have thought of Chinese food, or punk-rock carols? Would I have taken my children to a candy store? Heck, no."
Nat smiled. "The Candy Cave is a bit of an attractive nuisance."
"Would I have burnt breakfast on my own?" He paused. "Well, yes, I could have managed that, but that's not the point. The point is—"
"Have you guys not eaten?" Nat interrupted. "Zoe left dinner in the fridge."
Cyrus gave the oven a mistrustful look. "Maybe we shouldn't risk it."
But Nat was already opening the fridge and taking out containers.
"I thought you couldn't cook," he said, smiling at the sight of Nat fixing food.
"Well, I don't want to brag or anything," she said, deftly opening the containers. "But I do know how to heat things up."
"A professional. We're saved."
She placed the containers in the oven and closed the door.
"Watch this," she said, as she pressed a button.
Lights started flashing. He felt a trickle of anxiety at the sight, but Nat was perfectly calm.
"If the firefighters come back," he drawled. "I'm blaming you."
"Matt would love having his very merry in-law Christmas interrupted again," Nat said, checking the settings. "But he's not so lucky. This will be perfect."
Cyrus smiled. "Just like the ornaments."
Nat frowned "What do you mean?"
"The point is that the perfect ornaments and perfect dinner don't matter." He aimed a finger at her stubborn little nose. "The point is that you fixed Christmas for me and I bet you can fix it for your mom too. You are, after all, the Christmas Queen."
She laughed. "I may lose my crown on this one."
"You don't mean that," Cyrus said.
"As it happens, I do," she said. "It's bad enough that I botched this job, now I have mom in crisis and I really should have gone to Mexico."
"Nonsense, and you did not botch this job at all."
She was kidding, right? She's absolutely made his Christmas with her crazy ideas, attention to detail, dazzling smile and, well, just by being Nat. That alone made it better.
She sighed and glanced at the garlands on the kitchen chandeliers. "Those are old ornaments. The bows don't even match."
He chuckled. She was worried about the bows? Of course she was. Nat Quinn would absolutely worry about whether the bows matched and the ornaments were new enough.
She frowned and looked at the ceiling. "And that's not the only thing that's not working. Hold on a second."
"The bows are perfect," he said. "And your Christmas will be perfect too. You just need a little help."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"I'm not really sure," he admitted. "So let's talk about Mexico instead. When was the last time you went there?"
She sighed. "Way too long ago. We went for Jecca's bachelorette party."
"The baker?" he asked. "She's married?"
Nat shook her head. "No, the wedding never happened. The bachelorette trip, however, was unforgettable."
Of course, it had been. He glanced back at the living room, where his kids were happily engrossed in books and Legos, respectively. Dinner was in the oven, not being burnt to a crispy, and the cheerful sounds of the Merry Christmas Charlie Brown soundtrack wafted through the house.
He settled back to listen to the story of the legendary Holiday Lake bachelorette party. It was absolutely the perfect Christmas.
Until the front door slammed open.