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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.”
“You’re the best boss on the planet, and I might cry.” Charlotte sniffed. “Yes, I’m going to cry. It’s your fault for being kind. I’m so emotional right now. Even the news makes me sob.”
“The news makes me sob, too, and I’m not hormonal.” Samantha pushed tissues across her desk. “Here. You’re doing great, Charlotte.”
“I’m not as sharp as I used to be. My brain feels soggy. I cut Mr. Davidson off instead of putting him through.”
“And you immediately called him back, and he was completely understanding—so don’t worry. He’s not likely to forget that you were the one who arranged to fly him home when he had a heart attack in India and that you visited him in the hospital.”
“He’s a dear man.” Charlotte took a handful of tissues, stuffed a few into her bra and blew her nose with the others. “I’m worried I’ll lose you a client.”
“That’s not going to happen.” Samantha stood up and walked round her desk. “Are you doing okay? Are you just tired, or is it something more? Because if you need time off—”
“No. Honestly, I’m fine. It’s an adjustment, that’s all. I love my job, and I want to be here, but I want to be with Amy, too. I feel like a terrible employee and a terrible mother.”
