The Asheville Christmas Tradition (Carolina Christmas #4)

19. Angie

“The Biltmore Estate is closed .” Even through the phone, Angie could hear the low-key panic in Noelle’s voice.

“Not really surprised,” Angie said, sipping water as she stared out at the snow-covered Blue Ridge Mountains from the sunroom. “No one has power, including my inoperable coffee maker.”

Noelle sighed with audible frustration. “I need those generators but there’s no information about when the estate will open. Do you know?”

“Probably when full power comes back,” she said. “But weren’t we going to pick those generators up this afternoon? It’s early.”

“Do you think there will be a generator available for me at two o’clock?” Noelle asked. “Your buddy Bucky will have his pockets lined by desperate people by then or?—”

“Or the Biltmore will need them,” Angie finished with a much more plausible possibility. “Look, as soon as the roads are cleared, I’ll head over there and twist some arms. Hopefully, I’ll know the guard on duty because I don’t have an all-access pass.”

“How about your bearded boyfriend?”

Angie snorted. “He’s not…never mind. Yes, he has the pass but today’s not good. He’s supposed to meet with his boss this morning, although it’s anyone’s guess if that’s happening. I suppose they could do a call, but I don’t know.”

“Please, Ang, I need help. I need generators if I have—excuse the pun—a snowball’s chance of lighting that tree tonight. There’s no way to reschedule now since my committee simply didn’t put into place a real contingency plan.”

In the distance, Angie heard the rumble of a noisy engine, and that meant good news.

“They’re plowing Creekside Road,” she said. “Meet me at the Biltmore?”

“I’m in town dealing with a bunch of stuff like vendors who are flipping out, volunteers who are nowhere to be found, carolers who want to quit. But I’ll get there as soon as I can. Please promise Bucky anything—free art, publicity, a kiss on the lips, or cold hard cash. I need those generators.”

Angie chuckled, because when Noelle wanted control it was both beautiful and a little terrifying, but she wanted to help her sister.

She checked on Brooke, who was in a teenage coma and just wanted to sleep, and texted Elliott to see if he could get her on the property. Once the plows went the other direction and she knew it was clear, she took off for the Biltmore Estate.

The forty-minute drive took an hour and a half with many of the stoplights not working and a surprising amount of traffic moving at a snail’s pace.

But in that time, Elliott didn’t call or return her text, which kind of made Angie’s stomach burn with stress. Not only did she think that meant the meeting with his boss didn’t go well, she worried that she couldn’t get onto the property. Would her staff badge be enough?

She doubted it, not if the entire estate was without power and they’d closed the offices and all tours.

As Angie pulled up behind a few cars in line at the main entrance, she let out a noisy grunt when she saw a guard behind the desk was someone she definitely did not know.

The first car finally pulled out to make a U-turn and leave. As the line moved forward, her phone rang with a call from Elliott.

“Oh, thank goodness,” she said, tapping the speaker button. “I need you.”

He gave a soft laugh. “Now that’s the greeting I want to hear today.”

“I mean…for getting on the property,” she replied. “I promised my sister some generators, remember?”

“Ah, I do remember and I wanted to help you.” His voice sounded somber and she winced, waiting for the bad news that he couldn’t get her onto the property. “So, yeah. I have my pass. Are you at the main gate? I’ll come down for you.”

She wanted to ask so many more questions but the car in front of her was also doing the U-Turn of Death and she didn’t want to face the guard without Elliott. She followed suit, and pulled into a small space near the street to wait for him.

While she did, she texted an update to Noelle, who said she was on her way and optimistically driving Jace’s truck, even though he had to go on a vet call that morning. After that, Angie sat for a moment and studied the snow-laden trees and visible grounds of the Biltmore Estate.

She’d worked at this beautiful place for a year now and had experienced all four seasons—each utterly different and glorious. She loved it here, she thought with a sudden punch of emotion. If she were facing the possibility of leaving—as Elliott might be—it would break her heart.

And if he left? That would kind of break her heart, too, she admitted to herself. She liked spending time with him, liked the attraction and electricity, the humor and the intelligence, the sheer loveliness of the way he respected her skills and showed true interest in her.

Without a doubt, she could see herself getting involved with him and?—

A tap on her passenger window startled her and she whipped around, expecting the guard to tell her not to park here. But it was Elliott, wearing an expectant expression and dangling a badge from a lanyard, looking just as sharp and attractive as he had in her imagination.

She flipped the lock and gestured for him to come in.

“Get in here and bring your cute…all-access pass,” she quipped when he opened the door.

But the chuckle seemed a little forced and the normal twinkle was definitely missing from those ever-changing eyes as he climbed in.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

He let out a slow and noisy breath. “Let’s get to the generators,” he replied. “I already cleared it with the guard, so take the right lane and she’ll lift the gate. And she’ll let Noelle in, too.”

“You are made of awesome,” she murmured, driving toward the gate and shooting him a glance every few seconds. In the small space of the vehicle, she could practically taste his stress.

“Why do I think it did not go well with your boss?”

“Because it did not go well,” he said sullenly.

“Oh, Elliott.” Without thinking, she reached a hand toward his and he took it, giving her a squeeze.

“I’d say it’s okay, but it’s not,” he told her. “Do you know where you’re going? Wait, dumb question. You know this property better than George Vanderbilt himself did.”

“Kinda. I’m going to the equipment shed, which is…whoa.” She slowed the SUV at a snowy road. “Going to be a challenge to get there, but we will. Tell me what happened, please.”

Still holding her hand, he let his head fall back and closed his eyes. “I have until Monday to ‘solve the problem’ of a feature piece of art—one that must be on the order of The Adoration of the Magi —or I can pack my bags and print my resume.”

“No! Why wouldn’t they let you stay through the holidays? That’s brutal.”

“Yeah. Well, whatever. That’s not the worst of it.”

She rolled over crunchy snow and peered through the trees in the direction of the equipment shed, happy to see the small road that led to it had been shoveled, if not plowed.

She needed both hands to grip the wheel, but managed to slide a look at him when he was silent a beat too long. “What could be worse?”

He looked out the window, facing away from her.

“Elliott?”

“They want to cut the department…significantly.”

She gasped softly. “Fire people?”

He turned and stared ahead, eyes narrowed as she realized exactly what that meant for her. Last hired, the least amount of experience, and no impressive credentials? She was toast.

“Why?” she asked.

“Reorg. Budget. New year, new approach. The usual.”

But nothing about getting fired from her dream job was usual .

She groaned as she pulled up to the shed, her frustration divided between this ghastly news and the sight of four generators just loaded onto a flatbed and about to leave.

“I hope that wasn’t the last four,” she muttered, driving into what she hoped was a parking lot, but snow covered any lines.

“I’m sorry, Angel,” he said. “I really feel like this is all my fault for ignoring the family home and trying to turn it into an art museum.”

She studied him for a moment, exhaling softly. “I know you do, but I don’t blame you. It isn’t your fault—or the department’s—that the Louvre flexed and stole the Magi from us. Firing you for that is ridiculous and downsizing is stupid.”

“But it’s happening.”

“Is it? We have until Monday. I’m not giving up yet. I’ve been up against worse things in my life and won.”

“You have?”

She swallowed, slipping back in time. “Last year, we were this close to losing the cabin.” She made a centimeter of space between her finger and thumb. “Everyone was ready to hand the place over to an interloper. But…something happened. A miracle? Divine intervention? A big, fat surprise? Yes to all. We believed and had faith, so that’s what I have right now.” She smiled. “It’s Christmas. Isn’t there always a miracle?”

He looked right into her eyes, inches away, the connection powerful.

“And you need to know that I am going to follow the instructions Marjorie left in your file.”

She cocked her head, not following. “What did they say?”

He inched closer. “She wrote, ‘Don’t let this one go.’”

“Oh.” Angie thought of her coffee with Marjorie and how she’d said, quite clearly, that she would tell her replacement not to let her go. She’d meant it.

“What if you don’t have a choice?” she asked.

“I have a choice. I’ll make the list. Your job is safe and…” He took her hand and brought it to his lips. “I don’t want to let you go. Not from here…” He tipped his head toward the estate. “And not from here.” He pressed their joined hands against his chest. “Because you, Angel, are the real Christmas miracle.”

She shivered and sighed. “Oh, Elliott. That’s sweet, but we need an actual miracle?—”

Noelle banged on the hood of the SUV, making them separate and look at her wild-eyed sister.

“—and we might have to waste it on a generator,” she murmured as they took off their seatbelts and climbed out.

Bucky wasn’t there. No one had heard from him and the only person working was a part-time intern from last summer who lived within walking distance of the estate. He was overwhelmed with the requests from various buildings for generators and snow removal equipment, so Angie’s verbal agreement from Bucky was worthless.

After making an impassioned plea, flashing Elliott’s all-access pass, and promising the intern a job in an art gallery that he didn’t want, they were told to wait.

So the three of them climbed into Angie’s SUV to stay warm.

Elliott was quiet. Noelle was texting constantly. And Angie just tried not to think about the fact that she might get fired on Monday.

“Hey, I know him.” Elliott leaned forward and pointed toward a man walking into the shed.

“Really?” Angie squinted at the older man with white hair sticking out from underneath a ballcap. “I don’t.”

“He helped move some furniture in my office when I first got here. He’s a Red Sox fan and we had a good talk.” He opened the passenger door. “Hang tight, ladies. I’m going to talk to him.”

The minute he got out, Noelle put her phone down and leaned forward. “I know why I’m a ball of stress, but why is it so tense in this vehicle? I could cut it with the proverbial knife.”

“Because”—Angie turned around—“he’s getting fired over the Magi issue and they want to downsize the curators. Goodbye to my job and…” She rolled her eyes. “That dumb little romance I was thinking about having.”

“You are kidding me!” Noelle slapped the seat. “Not fair!”

“No kidding.”

“Can’t you get something to replace it?” Noelle asked.

“A ‘household name’ piece of art by Monday?” Angie shook her head. “I don’t think that’s the answer. But there has to be something we can do, some way to change their minds.”

“I think…” Noelle looked down at her phone. “Oh, wait a second.” She read, texted, read, and texted some more, focused on the device and the mountain of challenges she was facing for tonight.

Understanding Noelle had her own issues, Angie turned back around to look at the shed and watch one more generator go out the door, swallowing frustration at the whole situation.

Elliott jogged out of the shed, looking a little more hopeful than when he went in, pulling the door open and dipping his head into the car.

“Can you guys wait here for ten or fifteen minutes? We might have a solution.”

“Of course,” Angie said. “What is it?”

“A long shot.” He grinned at her. “And you were right. We might be using our only miracle this Christmas. But…” He looked back at Noelle.

“I would be so grateful there really are no words,” she said.

“Then hang tight.” He winked at Angie and headed back into the shed. A minute later, she saw him walk outside and disappear around the back.

It took way more than ten minutes. During the half hour he was gone, Noelle got out of the SUV to take a call, pacing and breathing out cold air as she chatted on the phone.

Angie recognized when her sister was deep in “work mode.” Last year when they’d spent a month at the cabin, the two of them shared a room and Noelle was a relentless workaholic in her role as an art dealer for Sotheby’s. She never met a problem she didn’t want to solve, and it sounded like she had plenty of them today.

Clearly, she approached the tree lighting business with the same dedication and determination, talking to…whoever she was talking to.

It left Angie with way too much time to spin through a million different possibilities and come up with…a pink slip.

She’d always known the arrival of a new boss could mean her demise, but she didn’t know he’d be taking her heart with him. Not that she was in love with the man, but she could be. Now she wouldn’t have him or the Biltmore, but at least she’d had the best year of her life.

She had Brooke, the cabin, and the divorce from Craig was behind her. She had experience and knew she loved working—maybe she’d take the job at Noelle’s art gallery.

Aunt Bitsy always said God has a plan. But what if she hated His plan?

She spotted Elliott and the guy in a ballcap, navigating the snowy hill toward the shed. He gave her a thumbs-up and then called to Noelle, who quickly finished her call.

Angie climbed out and let her heart lift with the sense that he had indeed produced a miracle for her family, and she adored him for that.

Five minutes later, the two men loaded two generators—the last two on the property—onto the back of Jace’s truck. Noelle was giddy with joy, and threw her arms around Elliott and thanked him profusely.

“I owe you a gigantic favor,” she said, leaning back and looking into his eyes. “I will repay you.”

“Not necessary,” he said, giving her shoulder a warm, brotherly pat. “I’m happy to help.”

She blew kisses to both of them, then pointed to Elliott. “He’s a keeper, Angie. See you there!”

Angie turned to Elliott, beaming at him. “You are a miracle worker!”

He put both his hands on her cheeks, his fingers cold and surprisingly rough on her skin. “I like ‘keeper’ better.”

Her smile faded. “But if we don’t come up with one more miracle for the Magi problem, then I can’t keep you.”

Looking into her eyes, a smile lifted behind his close-cropped beard. “That begs the question. Do you want to?”

“Very much,” she answered without hesitation.

His eyes shuttered with what looked like bone-deep satisfaction. “I have no idea how much time we have left together, but I don’t want to spend one minute of it on that problem. Why don’t we?—”

“Thanks again, Mr. Quinn!” Ballcap Guy hustled by, folding the straps they’d used to hoist the generators.

“We should be thanking you,” Angie said.

“Oh, he already did.” The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small acrylic box. “I’ve been coveting this thing since the day I saw it in his office. My brother’s gonna go nuts when I give him this.” He tipped his cap—a Boston Red Sox hat. “Merry Christmas!”

As he disappeared inside, Angie tried—and failed—to close her dropped jaw.

Elliott did it for her, with one tip of his finger on her chin. “He really wanted it and I’ve enjoyed it long enough. His brother’s sick and…it was an easy decision.”

“But…but…you bartered for the generators with your beloved Yaz-autographed baseball ?”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and leaned over to place a kiss on her hair. “Sometimes you need a Christmas miracle, sometimes you are the Christmas miracle. Now, where were we?”

“On what we’re going to do today,” she said. “What do you want to do if not solve our career-ending Magi problem?”

“I don’t really care, as long as it’s with you,” he said. “I think your sister will need help, so why don’t we go into town, do what we can to help her set up, walk around in the snow, hold hands with goofy smiles on our faces, and have a romantic dinner before the generators light up the night?”

She let out a soft laugh. “That sounds perfect.”

Almost as perfect as he was.