A Christmas Miracle for Daisy (Taming of the Sheenans Book 5) (8 page)

Josie cleared her throat. “Mr. Sheenan asked for work space. He didn’t want a typical lobby that was just a waiting room for visitors.”

Whitney nodded. “I agree, and with the right conversation areas this would all be work space. The Sheenan culture is very open. It’s all about innovation and collaboration and Cormac encourages lots of meetings and discussions. I think having different areas where team members can work and talk as well as work independently would appeal to Sheenan staff and guests. Everyone likes having space to spread out and get things done.”

The designer had been scribbling notes while Whitney talked. “When you say floor to ceiling shelves, we’re going contemporary. Yes? Mr. Sheenan indicated he did not want Crookshank Building turned into a period piece.”

“Correct. Cormac has modern sensibilities, so I’d like to show off the building’s bones, highlighting the brick with Cormac’s Western art collection which will get us the wow factor he’s looking for.”

“It’s going to be luxurious,” Josie said.

Whitney nodded. “Understated luxury.”

“We’re taking the same approach with his house,” Heath added.

Josie scribbled another note to herself. “I’m glad Mr. Sheenan sent you here to work with me,” she said, smiling at Whitney. “It helps that you know him so well.”

Whitney forced a smile, hating that her eyes stung, hating that her heart hurt. “I’ve worked for him for eight years.”

“No wonder he spoke so highly of you. What a great partnership you two have!”

Whitney was about to answer something flippant when she realized that despite everything, she and Cormac did work well together. And despite all the personal stress and distress, she admired Cormac’s work ethics and vision. He was definitely ambitious and hard driving but he never cut corners with his staff. He respected everyone on his payroll and always made sure his employees had the best of everything.

“He’s definitely our leader,” Whitney said lightly, snapping her down-filled coat closed and preparing to head back out into the chilly November morning.

‡

T
here were no
nonstop flights from Los Angeles to Bozeman this time of year, and so once Daisy was safely buckled into the window seat next to him, Cormac settled back, preparing for a five hour trip with a connection in Salt Lake City.

Fortunately, Daisy was a good traveler, and didn’t fuss much on flights, but it had been a long morning already, with hellish traffic from Orange County to Los Angeles International Airport, and then a security snafu that meant everyone in the terminal had to head outside and go back through the screening process again.

But they were on the flight now, and he held Daisy’s hand firmly in his as the plane raced down the runway and then lifted off.

He loved the moment they were airborne. He’d always enjoyed flying and had briefly considered taking flying lessons after college, but used his savings—along with a loan from his brother, Troy—to buy his first radio station outside Missoula, Montana, and he’d never looked back, pouring his time and energy into growing his business.

His business had continued to occupy most of his time and attention until Daisy entered the picture. Now Daisy was front and center of his world.

He was tired, though. It had been a stressful couple of weeks trying to get the company shifting to Montana, and then on top of the chaos at work, Daisy had been having nightmares. He knew why, too. It was the shooting at her school, which had left the PE teacher and a sixth-grade boy wounded.

The sixth-grade boy was now back home, recovering. The PE teacher—a fifty-three year old female and a former Marine—had rushed the shooter and was still in critical condition.

Daisy had talked about the shooting a lot the first few days after the incident, and then seemed to have moved on. But the nightmares indicated otherwise.

And this, he thought, is why he was taking Daisy back to Marietta. He wanted her surrounded by family and friends. He wanted her to feel safe again, and she’d feel safe in Marietta. She’d discover just what it meant to be a Sheenan.

Living in Marietta would complicate travel, though. He was definitely off the beaten path now. Hopefully he wouldn’t have as much business travel as he used to. He was ready to slow down and be home more. He was ready to give Daisy a real home.

Part of a real home meant giving Daisy what she still didn’t have…a strong female role model, someone that loved her who wasn’t a nanny.

Someone like Whitney.

He understood her reluctance moving back to Montana. Montana was full of memories of April. Growing up, Whitney and April had been inseparable, even attending college together before making their way to Denver for work.

He was sure Whitney had concerns about living in his hometown as well. Marietta was a small place and everyone knew the Sheenans. Back when they were dating, she’d spent quite a few weekends in Marietta with him and had gotten to know his family, too. His brothers had liked her. His dad had liked her. Everyone in town who’d met her liked her.

But then, Cormac had yet to meet someone who didn’t like her. This past week he’d received a flood of rather passionate emails from her team at Sheenan Media, asking him to keep her on, urging him to convince her to stay, detailing how important she was to the publishing group. They all loved her, and the emails mentioned her vision, her respect for others, her kindness. Her immediate team felt valued, and validated. She was a level-headed manager that got things done without stepping on toes.

After a half dozen emails, Cormac could recite Whitney’s virtues by heart.

Smart.
Insightful.
Thoughtful.
Inspirational.
Focused.
A true leader.
Generous.
Sensitive.
Professional.
Compassionate.

She was a veritable saint.

He…not so much.

“Dad,” Daisy whispered, tugging on his hand. “Look.”

“Hmmm?”

“Look.” Her voice was soft and reverent.

Cormac opened his eyes, glanced down at Daisy and then followed her gaze. He immediately understood her wonder.

On the aisle across from them sat a big, white-bearded man with a big round belly. He had round cheeks to match his belly, and thick white hair that curled a bit around his forehead and nape. Swap the bearded man’s plaid flannel shirt and khaki trousers for a red wool suit and he’d look just like Santa Claus.

“Daddy,” she breathed again. “Do you know who that is?”

Cormac was so damn tired he could barely see straight but the awe in Daisy’s voice made the corner of his mouth lift. Despite all the tragedy in her life, she was still so innocent and full of hope and joy.

“Who do you think it is?” he answered.

She looked up at him rather indignant. “You don’t know?”

“I just wondered if you knew.”

“
Yes.
It’s Santa.” She leaned forward in her seat, studying him. “Where do you think he’s going?”

Cormac closed his eyes, settling back in his seat. “Bozeman.”

Daisy grabbed his forearm. “I’m serious.”

“Me, too.” He opened an eye. “This plane is going to Bozeman, Montana. Which means he’s going, too.”

“Why is he flying in a plane? Why isn’t he using reindeer?”

“Maybe his reindeer are on vacation. Or maybe he’s just more comfortable in an airplane than in an open sleigh. Montana is cold this time of year. There will probably be snow on the ground.”

She made a scoffing sound. “He lives at the North Pole. Santa and the reindeer are used to cold. They live in snow.” She leaned as far forward as she could and lifted her hand, just barely wiggling her fingers.

Cormac suppressed a groan. It was one thing to stare at the old man, but to wave at him? “Don’t,” he said, pressing her hand down. “Leave him be.”

“Why? He
loves
children.”

“He’s not Jesus, Daisy.”

“I know. But he’s Jesus’ helper. He brings gifts to kids who are good and loving.” Daisy gave Cormac a disdainful look. “And he’s going to bring you nothing because you’re not being nice.”

“I’m not being mean.”

“You are. Santa likes me. See? He’s waving back at me.”

Cormac turned his head and indeed, the white-bearded, red-cheeked, heavyset older man was smiling at Daisy and lifting his hand in acknowledgement as if he were the real thing.

Cormac struggled to hide his irritation. He could understand why Daisy was enthralled—a child’s innocence and imagination and all that—but the old guy, he should know better. He didn’t need to encourage Daisy.

“I want to talk to him,” Daisy said.

“The seatbelt sign is on.”

And just then the seatbelt sign turned off. Daisy shot Cormac a triumphant glance. “It’s off now!” She unfastened her seatbelt and tried to slide from her seat.

Cormac put out a hand to stop her. “Daisy.”

“I just want to know why he’s going to Montana.”

He counted to five, and then to ten. “Why don’t we let him be? It’s a long flight and I’m sure he’d like to just close his eyes and relax. In fact, why don’t we close our eyes, too, and get some sleep so that we arrive in Bozeman rested—” he broke off as he felt her small body shudder.

“Daisy?” He lifted her chin; tears were falling. “Why are you crying?”

“Because I need to tell him what I want for Christmas and you won’t let me.”

“How do we even know he’s the real Santa? Maybe he’s just an elf—”

“He’s not an elf! He’s Santa Claus. Look at him.” She jabbed a finger in the old man’s direction. “He has blue eyes and pink cheeks and a big white beard.”

“Then where is his red suit?”

“At the North Pole with the reindeer!” Daisy was losing patience. “Now, will you please let me talk to him?”

Cormac held his breath as Daisy slipped past his legs and stepped into the aisle to stand next to the old man’s side.

The man’s blue eyes twinkled at her. “Hello.”

She smiled shyly. “Hi.”

“How are you?”

“I’m good.” She hesitated and her smile faded, her expression growing serious. “I need to tell you something.”

“I’m all ears,” he said, leaning towards her.

Daisy stood on tiptoe and cupping her hand near her mouth, whispered in his ear.

“I see,” the old man said after a moment.

Daisy whispered something else in his ear.

The old man looked thoughtfully at Daisy, then Cormac, and back to Daisy again. “We will see what we can do.”

“Thank you, Santa.” She kissed his cheek and then scooted past Cormac’s knees to take her seat.

“I told him,” she said smugly, buckling her seatbelt. “I told him what I wanted, and he’s going to see what he can do.”

“And what did you ask him for?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I’m your dad. Can’t I know?”

“No. Then it wouldn’t be a surprise.” She tightened the seatbelt and then sighed, pleased with herself. “But it’s going to be good. In fact, it’s going to be the best Christmas ever.”

“Daisy, honey, he didn’t promise anything. He just said he’d see what he could do.”

“Yes, but he will. He’s Santa Claus.”

*

Whitney shivered, chilly
despite her long, down-filled coat, as she walked from the Graff to the Crookshank Building. It was a blustery Friday morning, and the ever-present wind whistled and snapped, grabbing at the line of lights the city crew was valiantly attempting to hang the length of Main Street.

Thanksgiving was just six days away now and downtown Marietta was being decked in holiday finery in preparation for the parade that would take place a week from today, heralding the arrival of Santa Claus and the official start of the Christmas holidays.

The weather forecast said it could snow next week, too. It was definitely cold enough for snow today, but the big Montana sky was a stunning deep blue without a cloud in sight.

After getting her coffee from Java Café, she paused in front of Copper Mountain Chocolates to once again admire the fat chocolate turkeys and foil-wrapped leaves. Josie had told her that they served the best hot cocoa at Copper Mountain Chocolates, but Whitney had yet to go in. But she’d have to soon. Chocolate was her weakness. She wouldn’t be able to resist forever.