CHAPTER ONE
NAOMI
Iwelcome the cool November breeze, even as the sun warms my skin. It’s early enough in the morning to hear the chirping birds and smell Christmas in the air without being overrun by tourists. The wind carries fresh pine, ocean, and sunshine, blanketing our small town in a unique concoction. The streets came alive with the vibrant colors of wreaths and the fresh scent of evergreens adorning the posts and shops. It’s just the beginning. Christmas in Candy Cane is about to get a lot more festive.
I pull my cardigan closer around me. The people, the decorations, the joyous festivities are just another reminder that I’ll be spending the holidays alone. I’m used to it. But no matter how much work I book for myself or how busy I am, it’s barely enough to starve off the loneliness constantly nipping at my heels.
Remembering my lunch with Charity, I inhale. It pains me to turn her invitation down year after year. But staying with her in New York means seeing her father, Nathan Dawson. A man I’ve been jonesing after from the moment I laid eyes on him. How the heck do I tell my best friend that I’m in love with her dad? How do I sleep under the same roof without drowning in a puddle of my lust?
I don’t.
The only option is staying as far away from that man as humanly possible.
One battle at a time, Naomi. My first hurdle is with the Manager of First Trust Bank.
The click-clack of my heels echoes on the glossy tile floors as I walk to the front desk. Christmas decorations hang from the pillars and the radio plays low, almost inaudible, but I can hear the familiar chorus, ‘Oh Santa, what will you bring me this year?’ I need money if I’m to keep designing costumes, however, Santa never seems to deliver.
“Good morning,” the young brunette says from behind her desk. “How can I help you?”
“Naomi Waters to see Mr. Cooper.”
The woman looks me up and down and I do my best to keep from balling my fists. Mr. Cooper has had his string of lovers in Candy Cane. His choice of lovers is an open secret in town, as everyone knows it’s connected to his power over loan approvals.
“I know where his office is. I’ll just show myself up.”
“I’m sorry Mrs…”
“Miss Waters,” I say.
“Of course.” She smiles. “Mr. Cooper will be down shortly. Please have a seat.”
I frown. For as long as I remember, the bank manager isn’t the sort to come to anyone. He revels in the power of having clients go to him.
As much as I hate groveling, I don’t have the luxury of not asking for a loan. Large deposits keep me afloat through the busy holiday season. I repay most of the loan by February when my clients settle their bills, but I know that at this rate, I need to expand, take on bigger clients or I won’t last another two years.
As I wait, several songs play and fade away before Mr. Cooper's short frame approaches me. A harshness that contrasted with the festive ambiance of the bank lobby marred his soft features, which would have been attractive.
“Sorry for the delay,” he says, waving me back to my seat when I attempt to stand. “You don’t mind us meeting here, do you?”
“I–” I glance around the lobby, glad I chose a smaller group of chairs to sit.
“I’m afraid my morning meeting has lasted far longer than expected.”
The lobby was hardly a place to conduct business. “I’m happy to reschedule for this afternoon.” My happiness is a lie.
“No. No. That won’t be necessary.”
I gape, unable to hide my surprise.
“My associates and I have already gone over your application.”
Maybe there is something to be said for not taking the elevator to the fifth floor after all. Every year, Mr. Cooper insists on reviewing my business plan, wanting me to elaborate on my strategy for repaying the loan.It's always the same - the loan covers the costs of materials and two skilled seamstresses for the Christmas parade and the mayor's costume party. Once the festivities are over, I replay the loan.
I extend my hand. “Thank you, Mr. Cooper.” It’s the shortest visit I’ve had at the bank, but honestly, I can’t wait to leave. “I assume you’re giving me the usual three-month time frame?”
He doesn’t shake my hand. “You misunderstand me, Miss Waters. First Trust won’t be approving your loan.”
It took a minute for his words to sink in. I blink. Jumping through hoops is one thing, but I never expected to be turned down. “Why?”
