One More for Christmas(8)

“There’s a Samantha Mitchell in Chicago...a Samantha Mitchell, dog walker, in Ohio. Samantha Mitchell, CEO of a bespoke travel company in Boston...” He looked up as Gayle made a sound. “That’s her? She runs a travel company?”

Boston? Samantha had moved cities? It wasn’t enough not to speak to her mother—she clearly didn’t want to risk running into her on the street.

Gayle tried to ignore the pain. She was willing to be the bigger person. Kids disappointed you. It was a fact of life. She would forgive and move on. She wanted to do that. She wanted them in her life. Their relationship never should have reached this point.

And CEO!

Through the ashes of her misery, Gayle discovered a glowing ember of pride. You go, girl.

Whether Samantha admitted it or not, there was plenty of her mother in her.

As they wheeled her through the office to the elevator, she caught a glimpse of the shocked faces of her staff, who had never once seen GM vulnerable in all the time they’d worked at Mitchell and Associates.

But she felt vulnerable now. Not because of the head injury, and not even because of the photos that the wretched photographer had taken of her unfortunate accident, nor the prospect of headlines as painful as the injury itself.

No, she felt vulnerable because someone was about to contact Samantha.

And there was every possibility that her daughter wouldn’t even take the call.



Samantha


“I suggest a European tour, focusing on the Christmas
markets. Not only will you be steeped in holiday spirit, which is what you want, but you can buy all your gifts at the same time. It will be perfect.”

Shoes off, hair caught in a messy bun, Samantha scrolled through the itinerary her team had prepared.

“Start in Prague. You will never forget Wenceslas Square. At Christmas it’s filled with pretty wooden huts selling handcrafted goods and delicious treats—you have to try the warm gingerbread—and they always have an incredible tree. You’ll sip mulled wine while you watch the ice-skaters, and there will probably be choirs singing in the background. It’s gloriously festive!”

Skillfully she painted a picture. She talked about the smell of baked apples in the famous markets of Cologne, the scent of Christmas spices in Vienna and the beautiful medieval streets of Tallinn, Estonia.

“That horse-and-cart ride you dreamed about? We can definitely make that happen. You’ll never want to come home. I’m emailing a plan across to you now. Take a look and let me know what you think. You might prefer to reduce the number of markets and spend a little longer in each place. We can tailor it in any way that works for you.”

She glanced up as her assistant opened her office door, her baby on her hip.

Samantha gave a brief shake of her head. Her staff knew better than to interrupt when she was on a call—especially when that call was to a client as important as Annabelle Wexford. Whoever it was could wait.

She waggled her fingers at the baby and carried on talking.

“It will be fabulous, Annabelle. In Prague, we’ve reserved you a suite with a view of the Charles Bridge. After you’ve enjoyed the markets, you’ll be able to relax and drink in the same view...”

She gave her the full benefit of her research and experience—which was extensive. No one knew more about making the best of the holiday season than she did. She’d been designing bespoke winter vacations for people since she’d graduated. First for a big travel company who offered tailor-made holidays to anywhere and everywhere, and then for herself.

When she’d announced that she was setting up on her own, focusing exclusively on festive vacations, her competitors had predicted she’d last six months. She’d proved them wrong. There were people willing to pay a great deal of money to enjoy a magical holiday experience if it delivered what they wanted. And Samantha delivered every time.

Her company, RFH—Really Festive Holidays—was booming.

There was a card on her desk from a delighted client addressed to her as The Queen of Christmas. Another calling her Mrs. Santa.

Was there anything better than making someone’s dreams of a magical festive season come true?

“We’ve sent over a couple of hotel options in Vienna—take a look and let us know your preference.”

It was five minutes before she was able to end the call and follow up with her assistant.

She hit a button on the phone on her desk. “Charlotte? I’m done.”

Charlotte appeared in the doorway, a tablet in her hand. A large damp patch spread across her midnight blue shirt, which clung to her breast.

“Sorry, I forgot you were on the phone to Annabelle—and sorry about this.” She tugged at her shirt. “Amy started yelling, and my boobs took it as a hint to go into milk mode. Nature is an amazing but inconvenient thing. Fortunately there are no clients in the office at the moment. My mom is back tomorrow, so she won’t be in the office again.”

“Where is she?”

“My mom? Visiting my Gran in—”

“The baby.” Samantha was patient. “Amy.”

“Oh. She fell asleep after I fed her, so I popped her under my desk in her seat and I’m going to make the most of it and get everything done. Truly sorry about this.”

“It’s perfectly fine. This is an important time for both of you. Parent-child bonding is crucial—particularly in these early months. Family is everything. You need to spend as much time together as possible. Use my office to feed any time you need to.”