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“If we had more of a Christmas industry, like one we were known for, we might have more tourists.”
A Christmas industry. Hmm.
“Would that be a good thing, though?” Imogen went on. “Would it ruin the actual, I don’t know, spirit of Christmas? If every corner had a stall selling ‘Christmas in Eldovia’ T-shirts?”
“I don’t know.” Cara would have to think about it.
And she did think about it. She thought about it while she sipped her eleven a.m. beer. She thought about it while she pushed back her stool.
Imogen came over and nodded her thanks for the cash Cara laid on the bar. “Headed upstairs? Will I see you before you leave?”
“I’m headed outside, actually. I’m going to try the ice slide.”
“Are you now? I thought you were a sensible New Yorker who didn’t go in for hurling your body through space or what have you.”
“Yeah, well, sometimes you gotta change things up.”
She thought about it—the idea of a Christmas industry in Eldovia—as she climbed the long staircase to the top of the slide. Something not schlocky. Something centered around the experiences that the country was already so good at providing its own citizens. She thought of how beautiful the holiday decorations were at the palace. She thought of Matteo saying that he was always turning down requests to film at the palace.
She thought of Matteo and how much he loved Eldovia, how he cared about its people so much.
She thought of him talking about his expanded mission.
Could she take the same approach with her project here? The charge had been to look at how Morneau could modernize, diversify its operations beyond its historically limited product categories within the context of watches.
But what if the contextwasn’tonly watches? What if she thought more broadly, and asked how Eldovia, not just Morneau, could diversify its operations?
No one had asked her to do that, but equally, no one was stopping her.
She reached the top of the slide. She’d been thinking so hard that she hadn’t had time to be scared.
She could do this. She could leave Matteo with some hope for his beloved Eldovia.
She sat on the icy slide and whooshed down.
Chapter Seventeen
One day until Christmas
Cara worked late into the night, in her room, researching and running some rough numbers and feeding them into a new report. Amendment. Addendum? She wasn’t sure what to call it. When she was done, she felt as though she’d run a marathon. She was wrung out, but in a good way, as if she’d spent all her energy on a good thing.
As she opened her email to send the new report to the king, she noticed the clock had turned over. It was Christmas Eve. Well. She took a deep breath and pressed send. She hoped that whether the king bought into it or not, he would discuss it with Matteo.
Because he was the one she was really doing this for. He had taught her to do this, to think expansively and generously. He had taught her to care. And she wanted to thank him by showing him that she had learned from him, that she was trying to do right by the country he so loved.
She had this odd feeling about him, like she owed him somuch. It was hard to put to words, but when she thought back to all his kindnesses—bringing her tea in the bath, defending her against Noar’s sexist remarks, teaching her to ski—her heart filled. But it hurt, too.
She laid on the bed and tried to focus on her happy news. She was a partner at CZT! This was what she’d wanted for so long. This waseverythingshe’d wanted. The job itself, the duplex it would allow her to buy, her parents squared away. Less travel.
Right? She’d always said she wanted that, too. She’d told her mom countless times that once she made partner, she’d travel less. She’d stop.
But she was scared to stop.
Scared shitless.
Because if she stopped, she suddenly had time for all the stuff she’d resolutely shuffled into the “later” category. Was she ready for “later” to be here?
She heaved a shaky breath, and closed her eyes.
