Scrooge

39. Alexander

39

ALEXANDER

I walk out of the hospital, my body thrumming with fear, heartbreak, and anger. I don’t want to leave her, but I push myself forward, needing to get a few things organized before I run back to her. I can’t believe she was willing to throw us away for the sake of saving me. She is as stubborn as she is sassy, and I love her even more for it. I still have the issue of Logan to fix, and now, as I look at her father, I grit my teeth, our conversation way overdue.

“We need to talk,” I tell him, and he nods, then looks at his wife, and her lips thin. She knows too . I strut down the hallway, not even having to look to know they are both following me into my doctor’s office that I’ve been utilizing today.

They follow me in and close the door.

“Do you want to tell me why I found this agreement with yours and my father’s signature?” I ask, jumping straight into it, pulling out the yellow envelope I found in the Hamptons. Something is amiss. I’m not able to understand exactly what is going on, at least not on my own.

He doesn’t even open it. He knows exactly what it is. They both look at me with remorse and pity before John speaks.

“We knew your father,” he says, and I nod, expecting as much.

“Go on,” I prompt, pacing a little, not able to sit. My heart is still back in that hospital bed, feeling empty without her near me.

“I was close with your mother,” Wendy says, her tone melancholy, and my steps falter.

“My mother?” I ask, swallowing past some long-hidden emotions now rising to the surface.

“She was my best friend. We grew up together. She always used to have sunflowers with her. Said they always brightened her day,” she says with a smile as her eyes become glassy.

“It was a saying I said to the girls as they grew up, and now giving Wendy a sunflower is our thing,” John tells me.

“Haylee?” I say, and she nods. My own eyes watering, I drop my head. “Go on.”

“We didn’t know your father very well, and when she passed, he went into a hibernation of sorts. We lost contact for a while,” Wendy says, giving me a somber look when my eyes meet hers again.

“But then he started to bring you into the store as a child and we reconnected,” John adds.

“As much as you can with your customers. We never socialized with him or saw him out of the store,” she says, and I look between her and her husband, wondering what the hell is going on that would explain the documents I found.

“He came to us needing help,” John answers my unspoken question, and my steps cease as I glance back up at him in shock.

“Help?” I clarify. I don’t know how they would be able to help my father. He had money. He had connections.

“He got himself into some trouble,” Wendy says, and I frown.

“What kind of trouble?”

“Alessandro Romano,” John says, and my blood runs cold.

“The mob?” I think about Sebastian Romano. Alessandro was his father who died a few years ago. Rumor has it, at Sebastians hands.

“Yeah. Owed them a lot of money,” John says, and Wendy looks at me sadly. “He needed help to get out of it. He couldn’t go to anyone in his circles because he would have lost his entire business. He needed help from someone with no connections or ties to the business world or the mob.”

“What?” I’m in a state of disbelief as my head shakes. My father was a great businessman. A multimillionaire.

“He got into debt with them. To be honest, I didn’t want details. The less I knew, the better,” he says.

“Alessandro was a bad man. Very underhanded.” Wendy nods, and I am still struggling to understand exactly what is happening here.

“So what exactly happened?” I ask, slowly taking a seat as my legs feel shaky.

“He came to the shop. We owned the building at that time,” John says before Wendy jumps in.

“It was something we purchased as soon as we got married, with help from family and a small bank loan. We were excited to start our new life together.”

“The toy store took off, location was good, business was great, and because we owned the building, our expenses were low.”

I frown at that, now even more confused. I didn’t know that they owned the building once.

“But your father needed money and didn’t have anyone else to go to,” Wendy says.

“He owed them a lot, and while he had some money to give them, he didn’t have all of it,” John says. “So we sold him our building. He was able to borrow against it and get the remaining money he needed from a bank loan.”

And now, I’m gobsmacked.

“I don’t follow. He was a millionaire. He had money,” I say, my words stumbling over each other. Now I’m starting to understand a little more what Sebastian Romano may have been referring to at the Maddison Miller Gallery all those weeks ago.

“He did, but it was all tied up, nothing that was liquid. He knew our building was worth a lot, and through buying it for a dollar, he had full equity,” John says.

“A dollar?” I question, in total disbelief.

“Under the agreement that the rent would remain low for the remainder of the toy store life. We did some calculations and figured out that the amount we would save through paying low rent for twenty years would equal the value of the building back then,” he says, and I feel sick to my stomach. Sure, it may have equaled the value back then, but now? There’s no chance.

“Your rental agreement is for ten dollars per square foot of floor space. Tucker Toys is about twenty thousand square feet. So over twenty years, you paid about four million. If you kept the store and sold it today, you would make at least eight. Maybe even more,” I say, doing the rough calculations in my head. Her father looks down, and her mother looks crestfallen.

“My father took advantage of your kindness,” I grit out, because my whole world feels like it is crumbling. The man I looked up to, the man I idolized, got himself in trouble with the mob and took advantage of some kindhearted people whom he was well aware didn’t have the business knowledge to know any better.

“He didn’t. We knew what we were doing.” Sitting back, John takes all the responsibility. I can see where Haylee gets it from. I think about her now. Back to when we first met.

“Haylee said my office desk is like yours?” I say.

“That’s true. Your father bought us matching desks as a thank you,” John says, and I huff my disgust. How could he do this? I’m heartbroken, more so than I could have predicted. If I understand things correctly, if Haylee’s dad didn’t take the fall for my father, then my whole business would be nonexistent. I wouldn’t even be standing here today. My life would probably be similar to that of what Deloris experiences.

“You sacrificed your life and financial well-being to help my father?” I say, feeling in awe of him now.

“To help someone who had nowhere else to go,” he says, still firm in his decision.

“Did my father offer anything ?”

“He offered to put the girls through college, but I said no. I didn't want anything else from him. Your father used his desk as a motivator to have more. I use the desk as a motivator to always do what's right, regardless of the cost.”

I sit back, shocked, my stomach lurching like I have been punched and my chest aching. It’s then I realize that I was turning into my father. With my Scrooge ways, my life before Haylee was bleak. Self-loathing creeps up my spine and starts drowning any other thoughts.

“When you started the agreement with Haylee, you were only thinking of you. What you could get out of it and so was Haylee,” John says, like he can read my mind. Clearly, he is a smart man. I wonder how long he has known about Haylee and me and how we first got together.

“But we saw the way she looked at you. I see the way you look at her,” Wendy says, a soft smile on her face like only a mother can give.

“The agreement you two had together might have made a fake relationship, but what I see now is true love,” John says without an ounce of hesitation, and I take in a breath. I should’ve known that they would see straight through us. Probably knew the moment that Haylee introduced me.

“I love your daughter. I would do anything for her,” I tell them, feeling vulnerable and now not worthy of their support. But I want them to understand exactly how I feel and that I will protect and cherish their daughter until the end of time.

“We know. We can see it. And she loves you,” Wendy says softly.

“I have a few things to fix up,” I say, knowing I need to make everything right. I need to get Logan, I need to sort out the toy store lease, and I need to hug my girl tighter than ever. “With your permission…” I start before clearing my throat. “I would like to ask her to marry me. For real.”

“You have our permission, and we know you will do what's right,” John says and looks at me proudly. I know without a doubt that I will never let her parents down.

With their supportive smiles and reassurances, an idea spawns in my mind. Along with their help, I come up with a new plan for Tucker Toys, one that I will implement starting tonight.

* * *

It has been two days, four hours, seventeen minutes, and approximately four seconds since I brought Haylee home from the hospital, and about three hours since I last saw her. But it feels like a lifetime, and I don’t like it, not one bit.

“I rather like you in that suit,” Laurent says as we walk into the Jackson Enterprises holiday party in Central Park. I know she is already here. She and her family are in the North Pole tent, giving out toys to the kids, many of whom I see running around, high on sugar, playing in the snow. She only stayed in the hospital overnight, her injuries minor apart from a few grazes and a small concussion. Although I would still prefer her to be resting, not here giving out toys.

“Is she alright?” I ask him, only one thing on my mind.

“She is fine. Having a great time with her family,” he says, and I nod. I know that too. I paid for her medical needs and hospital stay and have spoken to her mom, dad, and sister daily. Jillian was a little harder to convince of my love than her parents, but she eventually came around.

“We will do the press conference, and then you can go see her,” he tells me as we walk over to a small podium he has set up, the media all sitting in front of the small stage. I knew he had organized this, wanting to promote this event as much as possible. I have gone over and over my speech and my plans for the past few hours, while Haylee came here to help her family. I am ready.

“Staff are ecstatic. I can confirm that applications for the next quarter are up by fifty percent. We have resumes coming in thick and fast. This event, along with your media presence over the last couple of months, has done exactly what we needed it to do,” Sheridan says, joining us as we continue our walk over to the media. I glance toward the Santa tent again. Haylee’s dad looks like the real deal in his red suit and white hair. Her mom is dressed as Mrs. Claus sitting by his side, while Jillian and Haylee are dressed as elves, handing out gifts, ensuring the line moves so everyone gets equal time with Santa.

I watch her in awe from where I am, ignoring Sheridan’s statement. My mind isn’t on work, even though this is a work event. I have been on edge for days. She tried to fall on her sword for me. Haylee tried to give us up to try to save me, my business, and my profile from Logan’s threat. I know it all now. My team gathered him up the minute I ran after Haylee back at the bar and we got it all out of him. She is just like her father. Putting other people ahead of herself.

In his drunken state, Logan admitted to blackmailing her. Telling her to leave me, otherwise he would out our agreement for all the media to hear. So I did what I promised myself I would do, and I ended him. He is still alive, but his life in New York is over. I bankrupted his law firm. I emptied his bank accounts. I slandered his name far and wide so that no one will ever hire him, and no one will believe a word that comes from his mouth again. Luckily, the media saw me with Haylee on the street that night, so they know what we have is real.

She loves me. I know she does. She was ready to let go of the toy store, to let go of me just to save my reputation. She didn’t want money; she didn’t ask for anything. The ring on her finger, the painting from Maddison Miller, the Christmas tree, everything I got for her, she never once asked for. I chance another look over at the Santa tent and see her handing out a toy, catching a glimpse of the sparkle that still sits on her finger. My heart swells at the fact that she hasn’t taken the ring off.

“Good afternoon, everyone. Alexander is happy to answer a few questions now,” Laurent says into the microphone, and the media settle in. I shake his hand and step forward.

“Alexander, can you tell us about today?” a journalist yells out, and I clear my throat.

“Today is really about giving back. Christmas can be a hard time of the year for many, so we wanted to provide a day to see joy in the kids’ faces, where everyone can have a bit of fun, throw a snowball or two, connect with their friends and their colleagues and pick up a little something from Santa while they are here,” I say, looking over at the Santa tent again, seeing everyone there now listening to me. Haylee’s eyes connect with mine, and I smile.

“It is also about community.” My eyes stay on her. “Someone once told me that I buy places with heart and soul, then just knock them down,” I say, and Haylee’s mouth opens in surprise. “I have been thinking about that statement for a while.” My eyes flick to Haylee’s dad, then back to her. “So now, here at the Jackson Enterprises holiday party, I would like to announce that I, along with my beautiful fiancée, have started the new Jackson Foundation. A foundation that will begin with a vision of helping and preserving the heart and soul of the city. The first injection of funds will be earmarked for homelessness, helping those in New York who can no longer help themselves. We have secured a property in Brooklyn that will be renovated to become a new shelter. This shelter is called Haylee’s Home and will cater to women who don’t feel safe on the streets.” Clearing my throat, I watch Haylee wipe a tear from her cheek. “There are also three more properties penciled in over the next twelve months from Queens, through to Midtown, and in the Meatpacking District.

“The foundation will then also aim to help children. We have the fabulous team here today from Tucker Toys, my beautiful fiancée, of course, and her family,” I say, not able to help the smile as the crowd whoops and cheers, and I feel even better when I see Haylee smiling, her cheeks pinkening with a flush. “Having not been around children for much of my life, I hadn’t before seen the need to support kids, but witnessing the love in the Tucker family, and how much they give to children, our new foundation will be starting a program called Tucker Teens. One that will provide employment and internships, career building, school supplies, and tutoring in order to help kids thrive in this fast-paced world we all live in,” I state, looking at Sheridan, knowing her two boys will be the first two in our tutor program right after Christmas.

“I am now happy to take any questions you all may have.” I look back to the media, and they don’t wait but a second.

“Alexander. How does it feel to be in love?” someone shouts, and a few people laugh. Laurent steps forward, but I put up my hand to stop him. This is a question I am proud to answer.

“It is, without a doubt, the most wonderful feeling in the world,” I say softly, looking right at Haylee.

“When is the wedding?” a journalist shouts, and I smile.

“We have yet to set a date,” I say, and her lips quirk. I can’t wait to kiss them.

“What about the rumors of you seeing a prostitute in the shelters on Thanksgiving?” someone asks, and I was ready for this. Those rumors are few and far between, but they are still circulating.

“That’s Deloris. You can find her helping at the soup station over on your right. Deloris has been homeless for many years, a friend of my fiancée’s. She needed a helping hand that I was pleased I could offer,” I say and see Haylee’s head whip around so fast it almost falls off. She spots Deloris waving a ladle in the air.

“Thanks for the bag of—” she yells before Laurent grabs the microphone to cut her off.

“That is the end of question time, folks. Please go and enjoy the Jackson Enterprises holiday party,” he announces. Some people clap while cameras flash, and I step down, walking straight over to the Santa tent.

There’s only one thing on my mind, and it’s getting to my girl.