Page 35 of The Forever Christmas Tree

“There are rules?” Ethan inquired. “That’s news to me.”

“Anyhow, I was misquoted in that newspaper article.” Gabe held up a hand to prevent Laura from asking what he meant by that. “But I’m not a sentimental idiot, either. Family heirloom or not, whatever I decide about this building will be based on the bottom line. It pays its way or goes its way. Furthermore, anything I say here today is off the record. I better not be reading a twisted version of my words tomorrow in the local rag.”

Any attraction Laura might have been feeling toward Gabe immediately disappeared. The look she cast his way now was one she might give to a cockroach, or a slimy developer.

In order to soothe the rising tempers, Ethan changed the subject. “You know, Gabe, I always wondered why your ancestors chose a remote portion of a barrier island to build their forge. The temperatures here in summer are brutal; imagine forge workers in the pre-air-conditioning days. Plus, it must have been a bitch to get all these bricks and slate tiles out here.”

Gabe nodded. “Survival, pure and simple. They originally settled in Chicago where not one, but two of their factories burned down. Arson. Keep in mind, in the early 1900s, millions of Italian immigrants entered America, and prejudice then was high against any foreigners, but especially those dark, hairy characters who were deemed natural-born criminals. There were even studies, believe it or not, that supposedly proved Italians were little more than primates genetically inclined to violence. That’s why the three brothers sought out a piece of land remote enough to build their own community, despite all the hardships in getting building materials here.”

“I didn’t know that,” Laura said, even as she typed away on an iPad Mini.

Gabe glared at the device.

“My ancestors faced the same prejudice,” Tony said, drawing Gabe’s attention away from Laura’s note-taking. “They lived in the tenements of Little Italy, fifteen people to a room sometimes. Beaten to a pulp if they went out on the streets alone at night, for no reason other than they were ‘wops.’”

Gabe nodded his understanding and looked toward Ethan.

Ethan shrugged. “My family probably came over on the Mayflower and remain dumb tree farmers to this day.”

They all laughed at that and went inside.

“I’ll show you around. My manager is out sick today.” Gabe let out a snort of disgust. “That’s a lie, actually. I fired Jackson’s ass first thing this morning after looking over the books last night. No, he didn’t embezzle money or anything like that. He just hasn’t done a damn thing to generate any cash for more than a year and a half, ever since my grandfather first got ill. He single-handedly dug a grave for this old company which had already been floundering.”

That sounded bad. Really bad for Bell Forge’s future.

“And, no, Lois Lane, that is not for publication,” Gabe added.

Laura made a low growling sound but said nothing.

“The days of sitting on a good reputation and waiting for customers to come to you are long gone,” Gabe went on. “Bell Forge doesn’t even have a frickin’ website, let alone a sales force or a salesperson to solicit new orders. Believe it or not, my ancestors who started this company—the three brothers—knew that, even back then. One of them was an artisan, designing the bells. Another was the workhorse, the guy manning the bellows of the forge. And the third, and probably most important, was out drumming up new accounts.”

Ethan understood exactly what Gabe was talking about. While he’d never had a real interest in growing trees, he’d discovered over the past twelve years that he had a knack for business. He’d managed with home study and an inborn gene for wheeling and dealing to turn his family tree farm into a multimillion-dollar enterprise, complete with a small but efficient managerial and sales staff on top of the farm workers. Thus, his contracts with several nationwide chain stores, like DixieMart, Landscape Depot, and Starr Foods. “I have a stockbroker friend on Wall Street who told me one time that his company gets tons of applicants from Harvard Business School types, but what they really want are good used-car salesmen.”

“Right. It’s all well and good to have a finely crafted product, but if no one knows about it, big deal!” Gabe was one disgusted puppy. “I blame myself for not getting involved earlier. I mean, the situation with Whitechapel closing last year is a perfect example. We should have had someone over in London, trying to pick up their accounts. For that matter, who the hell makes all those Salvation Army bells? And has anyone thought about meeting with the Pope? They’ve gotta buy a lot of bells in the Vatican, wouldn’t you think?”

It was steaming hot inside the building, even though only one of the two forges was firing; so, they all took off their coats. Laura took off her suit jacket, too, and Gabe didn’t bother to hide his appreciation of her shape in a figure-hugging white sweater. And Laura noticed Gabe noticing her, if the wink she gave him was any indication.

So, Gabe and Laura were off to the flirtation races again. Which could be a good or a bad thing in terms of their negotiations. Ethan wasn’t able to object. He’d never been attracted to Laura himself. Probably because she hated his guts. Or because he couldn’t look at her without thinking of Wendy.

Aaarrgh! Wendy again!

Gabe led the tour with more knowledge about bell making than Ethan would have expected. It wasn’t the first time Ethan had been here. In fact, all schoolkids in Bell Cove did at least one Bell Forge field trip. But he hadn’t been here in years.

“You’re lucky. They’re about to cast a large, rather ornate bell for St. Mark’s College in Atlanta,” Gabe told them. “This part is exciting and dangerous. Make sure you put on those hard hats and goggles while the molten metal is being poured. But the part I like best is when they begin to rub the ash off the cooled bell, and you see the bronze emerge with all the etched details. It’s always a surprise. Like opening a Christmas present.”

Gabe might not have gone into his family business, but he clearly loved parts of it, nonetheless. Like Ethan and the tree farming, in a convoluted reverse sort of way. Ethan had hated tree farming, but had been forced into it, and now he loved it . . . at least the business end of it.

Maybe this meeting wouldn’t be hopeless after all.

At the end of the tour, they went into the office, Gabe behind the desk and the three of them in folding chairs.

“Here’s the deal,” Gabe said. “The forge sits on a five-million-dollar property. Yeah, that’s what the Benson group has offered. It would be a teardown, for them.”

The three of them were shocked into silence for a moment. They’d known that Outer Banks property was valuable, but not that valuable. For just a brief blip of a second, Ethan wondered what his five acres would be worth. A fortune.

“Add to that a factory with a specialized product that is no longer viable in today’s market. A money pit of colossal proportions.”

Laura had tears in her eyes, which Gabe noticed. He and Tony were feeling a bit deflated, too.