The Sweetest Hours

When the food came, he was grateful for it. Thick slices of deli turkey piled high on homemade white bread, also sliced thick, with crisp lettuce and Swiss cheese and a spread of fresh cranberry sauce as the main condiment. Absolutely delicious. He tried not to eat like a hungry wolf. They were all together sitting at a table by the big front windows, chewing happily, saying little. Malcolm downed his bottle of cool spring water, contented, no longer so dehydrated.

The snow outside was coming down in a thick blanket. At home, in Scotland, the roads would be at a standstill, he thought with amusement. When he’d been in Edinburgh over Hogmanay, the city had received just a few inches of snow, and the city government had literally called in the British Army to clear the streets. Scotland didn’t have snow-clearing equipment like Vermont did. People just didn’t drive in snow the way they did here.

But Malcolm was a great driver in snow. He’d had many years of long New England practice.

Then he realized that, without knowing it, Mindy had put a bug in his ear with all her questions. He suddenly felt homesick for his country. He unscrewed the cap on the bottle of Coke that Kristin had also ordered for him. If he were at home, he’d have asked for an Irn-Bru. Maybe Kristin would think it was nasty stuff—sweet, licorice-flavored, neon-orange-colored carbonated soda—but it was his Scottish nasty stuff, and that’s why he’d always liked it.

He was just tired from too much traveling. Maybe he needed a rest....

The others went back to work, and he observed Kristin and her motley crew from a distance. It fascinated him how Kristin made a game out of finishing their labeling chore. She and Mindy sang all the choruses of “Walking in a Winter Wonderland.” When they were through with that, they shared turns telling stories.

And then they lapsed into silence, quietly moving among the open boxes, filling them with jars, while Mindy closed her eyes and rested.

Outside, the snow covered the world in a peaceful white blanket. Malcolm got up by himself and wandered the facility, first completing his report-printing and diagram-photocopying, and then taking the last of his photos.

When he’d finished, he searched for Kristin. He found her sitting by herself at the table where they’d eaten lunch earlier. Her chin was in her hands and she was staring out the window, just watching the January snow come down. Hushed.

And it seemed to him that the delicious sandwich caught in his throat, because he’d known before he’d even started his day’s work, known before he’d seen the first bleeding financial statement and the first silent, still piece of machinery that he was going to shut all this down on her.

He was the man responsible.

And there was nothing he could do to stop it.

* * *

NOT EVEN MINDY could melt this glacial man’s heart, Kristin decided.

Thankfully, George had avoided them for most of the afternoon. Mindy had come back and reported to Kristin that George was “mean.”

“He frowns at me,” Mindy had said.

Yes, George was a frowner. Nothing cracked his reserve.

He was closed, disinterested, zipped-up tight. And she wouldn’t complain about it, because he had treated her with nothing but professionalism so far. During their tour of the plant, not once had he said a single inappropriate thing or even cracked a smile again.

If anything, as he followed her about the factory floor, listening silently to her explanation of the processes, cutting in only now and then to ask pertinent questions, he was insightful.

Her anxiety since she’d spoken to Dirk had slowly slipped away. She had relaxed enough to leave George to his own devices while she’d helped her crew box orders and perform quality control with the invoices and packing lists. The shipping company was due soon, and Aura was behind with their schedule. They were always behind with their schedule lately, it seemed. Whenever things went wrong at work, Andrew would be quick to criticize her, but Kristin was determined this would not be one of those times.

She just needed to accept that George Smith was enigmatic. He was a “Mr. Rochester” type. Once upon a time, Kristin would’ve found a fun challenge in bringing him out of his shell. What made this guy tick? Why was he so closed off and brooding?

Jeff dropped a box he was carrying, and George jumped. Literally jumped.

So he was nervous, too. Behind that angry, serious facade.

But, she really didn’t want to think too much about it or him. Things had changed with her since her younger more naive days. Now, she just wanted this handsome Scotsman bundled up and on his way so she could go back to her life as it was.

At the end of the afternoon, Kristin crossed the plant and found George standing in her office, sliding a folder into his briefcase. He glanced up when he saw her, and for a split second, his face brightened.

She hesitated. Maybe he was melting a bit.

“Did you find everything you needed today?” she asked cautiously.

He nodded, making a slight smile. “Yes, and I appreciate all your help.”

Well. That was...good. “Do you think you could tell Andrew that for me?” She started to smile, too, but then stopped herself, remembering. “Please, just give me a good report. It really would help me with him.”

“Yes, I’ll tell him,” George said warmly. “I’ll tell Jay Astley, as well. Maybe he can do something for you.”

Jay Astley? Her pulse elevated. “Thank you. That’s...” She paused, thinking of their gentle CEO. “Did I mention that his wife recently died?”

He nodded, slowly drawing on his coat. “Yes.”

“Laura...his wife...was the person who interviewed me for this job six years ago.” Kristin couldn’t help smiling at her memory. “We hit it off right away.”

“She made a good decision hiring you,” George said.

He thought so? She snapped her head up, but he had discreetly turned aside and was wrapping a winter scarf around his neck.

Kristin turned off the electric heater. Laura’s sudden illness and then death had upset everyone. She had been the heart and soul of their little factory community. She had also been the most perceptive person Kristin had ever met.

Anybody else would’ve thrown Kristin out of her office once she’d seen Kristin’s grades and college transcript. Kristin had not been top of her class, far from it. Back then, she’d been hopelessly disorganized. Even during her scheduled interview—so important to her—Kristin had accidentally dropped her purse, and to her mortification, two packaged tampons had rolled out onto the interview table.

But Laura had been gracious to her and had looked beyond the mistake. Maybe she had been able to tell that Kristin was bright and knew what she was talking about, despite the rough nerves. In any event, she’d simply smiled and put Kristin at ease. “It would be nice to have another woman besides me in the plant offices,” Laura had said. “Tell me, what about Aura Botanicals drew you to us?”

And Kristin had relaxed enough to just be herself for the rest of the interview. Something all too rare back in those days.

Kristin blinked, coming back to the present. She bit the inside of her cheek and glanced at George. He had cocked his head and was quietly studying her.

She smiled at him. “When Laura interviewed me for this job, she asked me why she should hire me. And I actually said to her, ‘Because I’m addicted to your Red Chestnut shampoo. It makes me happy every morning when I smell it.’”

Laughing, she shook her head. “What would you have said to such a candidate? You would have run away, wouldn’t you?”

“Actually,” George said slowly, “I like that answer. If said honestly, it shows that the employee understands the company’s products. It shows a tendency to be loyal, and that’s the most important thing to me.” He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down.

Something stirred in her heart. He looked so vulnerable and yet sexy at the same time. She pressed her palms to her sides and tried to stay calm.

“I definitely would’ve hired you,” he said quietly. The soft lilt of Scotland rolled over her. Her heart picked up and seemed to float.

“Really?” she breathed.

“Absolutely.” It was almost a whisper.

A spell hung in the air between them. Her knees weakened. She gazed at him, into his light, clear blue eyes, the color of the fading winter’s day, and she could not stop that bond that had seemed to spring up and suddenly intensify.

With a sharp intake of breath, George stared down at his watch. “Four o’clock,” he murmured. “My ride will be here soon.”

“Yes.” Flustered, she grabbed her coat. “I’ll walk you to the front door.”