The Billionaire's Lessons in Christmas, Page 2

  “All right, then,” he said, when George paused in his report. “That should be enough for the morning. Email me anything else important, and we’ll convene back here in a few months’ time.”

  There was a murmur of general agreement with his statement, as there always was, before Chase stood, and the rest of the group followed suit. He led the way out the door and was greeted by the sound of shouting.

  “Monster!”

  “Greedy bastard!”

  “Stop drilling on our land!”

  Chase cast a venomous glance at the protesters. He couldn’t make out their faces, but he didn’t need to. One protester was much like any other, and if they were as good at making money as he was, they wouldn’t be so keen on the environment either. Besides, Frost Energy were only drilling on a small part of the ocean floor. In the grand scheme of things, it really wasn’t that big of a deal. In any case, he imagined the citizens of Bluewater wouldn’t be complaining too hard when their gas prices plummeted.

  No one ever thought about how much money Chase had saved people by drilling for oil, now did they?

  Sliding into the back seat of his limo, Chase signaled the driver to leave, and they drove past the protesters as Chase looked down at his phone, entirely unconcerned.

  Someday, they would give up. Even if they didn’t, it had no effect on Chase whatsoever.

  THREE

  Annabelle had been leading an energetic cheer against Frost Energy when a woman ran out of the small building, her face ruddy with tears. She glared at the protesters before ripping her name badge from around her neck and tossing it over the fence, into a bush.

  Not thinking much of it, she watched as the woman stormed off towards a car and drove away. The group continued their chanting until a short time later, when a tall, handsome blond man exited the building, followed by some associates in suits.

  Annabelle realized in that moment that the man up front had to be Chase Frost. She had heard of him, of course, and had looked him up online to put a face to the evil force destroying their town, but he had done a decent job of keeping his face out of pictures. Still, she knew he was young and good-looking, and the man before her matched the profile.

  Some of Annabelle’s fellow protesters called out names as the CEO of Frost Energy exited, and she saw him grin sarcastically at them before sliding into a shiny black limousine which quickly drove off. The blacked-out windows reflected the protestors’ angry faces, and Annabelle imagined he hadn’t even looked up to see who they were.

  As the limo drove off, a woman picked up a rock, prepared to throw it. Annabelle placed a gentle hand on hers, stopping her.

  “That won’t get us anywhere.”

  The woman’s eyes filled with tears. “He just laughed at us. He didn’t notice us at all,” she cried.

  A man who looked to be the woman’s husband approached and held her as she cried tears of despair. Annabelle frowned, staring off toward where the limo had gone, before she remembered the woman who had thrown her ID in the bush. Heading that way, she combed through the brush until she found the lanyard, and looked at the ID.

  The woman—Kathleen, apparently—bore a remarkable resemblance to Annabelle. The woman in the picture had light brown eyes, unlike Annabelle’s blue ones, but if one were to look from a distance, it would be impossible to tell.

  A plan started to form in Annabelle’s mind. She pocketed the ID and headed back to the group.

  “My friends,” she began. “Today we were seen, if not heard. The change we need won’t happen overnight. It takes all of us rising up and crying out for the world to take notice. I’m going to see about getting the local news involved, and keep posting to social media. If we can find a way to go viral, maybe we can save our town.”

  Annabelle’s words washed over the others like so much rain in a flood, and they looked unconvinced. Dropping their signs back into a pile, Annabelle watched as they walked away. She was left with an emptiness she had no idea how to fill. A hand landed on her shoulder, and she started.

  “Woah, jumpy. It’s just me,” Will said. “What are you up to, now? Want to get a coffee?”

  Annabelle’s mind was racing with ideas as the ID burned in her pocket. She glanced up at Will, whose eyes were filled with hope. “Can’t, sorry. I’ve got to get home to help my mom with an order. Let’s talk soon though, okay? I want to plan out the next protest and see if we can get a larger crowd next time.”

  Will’s shoulders slumped, and he slid his hands into his pockets. “You sure?”

  “Yep. Talk soon,” Annabelle said, turning away from his downcast eyes and heading back home.

  Will was a nice guy. Attractive, even. He had dark red hair and a beard to match, and Annabelle had known him since they were kids. They’d always been friends, but had become closer after everyone else graduated and left town, moving to other parts of the country. Will seemed to think that meant that somehow they’d end up together, but Annabelle felt nothing.

  Which was a shame, because Will really was a nice guy.

  Annabelle huffed a breath of frustration as she made her way back to the bakery and opened the door, relishing the cozy scent of Christmas cookies baking in the oven. She spent the rest of the day helping her mother out and complaining about how much of an ass Chase Frost was, and before she knew it her sister was back from class and preparing dinner.

  Annabelle’s father, Steve, set out a fresh loaf of bread with a dish of butter while her sister Kate set out a plate of chicken and various roasted vegetables. The kitchen and living room had no barrier between them, and a stout black woodstove pumped out heat as the family enjoyed their meal together.

  “So how’d the protest go?” Kate asked.

  Annabelle shrugged. “It went okay. We had twelve people show up this time, so that’s progress, I guess.”

  Kate frowned. “Twelve people isn’t going to make much of a difference, Belle. I’ve been reading in my marketing class that most people don’t process information the first four times it’s presented to them, and it has to be right in front of their faces. Did you get your protest on the news at least?”

  “I’m looking into it. Unfortunately, local newscasters don’t seem to think the destruction of our town is newsworthy.”

  “I think protesting is hopeless,” Kate sighed. “No matter what you do, the people in power are going to get their way. Twelve people standing outside of their fence aren’t going to change anything. The poor can’t win against the rich; not without millions of people in the streets.”

  “That’s not true,” Annabelle said, setting down her fork. “Plenty of people change the world in an instant. This is the digital age, and one viral story can get you the millions of people you need to support you, all without leaving your home.”

  “Yes, but how often does that happen, really? You think you can get the internet mob on your side? And when you do, who says they won’t steal your identity and everything you’ve got? Once hackers notice you, you’re in even more danger.”

  “Then what do you suggest we do, Kate? Sit at home and hope nothing worse happens? We’ve got to do something. We can’t just stand by while they take everything we have.”

  “We could leave,” Kate whispered.

  That got the attention of their parents, who had been trying to ignore the conversation by focusing on their chicken.

  “Kate, why would you want to leave?” Deborah asked, her brow furrowed.

  “We could just go somewhere where we could thrive, you know? Like Seattle, or something.”

  “You would want to live in the city?” Steve asked.

  “No,” Kate replied. “But maybe this is just what happens. Cities don’t get destroyed by oil rigs. Only small towns do.”

  “And what happens when something bad happens there? Do we just run away every time a threat comes our way? Do you even hear yourself, Kate?”

  Annabelle was trying to hold her frustration in check, but her sister’s defeatist attitude was
driving her nuts. What was worse was that she had no apartment to go to after this argument—she would simply have to share a space with her sister, like when they were kids. The entire situation was a mess.

  “I don’t know what the answer is!” Kate huffed, and Deborah placed a gentle hand on both of her daughters’.

  “It’s a frustrating situation for all of us, and at the moment there is no right answer. What we do need to do, however, is decorate our Christmas cookies, so I’m going to need you both to tuck this conversation away so we can have a little more Christmas spirit in here. Agreed?”

  Unable to argue with their mother, both girls nodded and helped clear up the dishes before cleaning the table off and sprinkling it with flour. Deborah brought out the cold dough and turned on the oven, preparing cookie sheets and frosting. A bucket of silver cookie cutouts was spread around the table while Steve sat on the sofa across the room, his nose in a book.

  “Can we put some music on, Mom?” Kate asked.

  “Of course. Pick your favorite.”

  Dashing across the room, Kate pulled out a Harry Connick Jr. Christmas CD and set it to play, the speakers belting out tunes about reindeer and sleighs. The girls made a series of Christmas trees, stockings and wreaths before their shaped cookies were placed in the oven. While they swapped out sheets of cookies, their mother turned on the burner and melted thick chocolate and milk together before placing several small marshmallows in each cup.

  When Annabelle took a sip of hers, she grinned. “Now this is hot chocolate. Mom, you spoil us.”

  Deborah’s smile was warm as she placed a kiss on the top of each of her daughters’ heads. “Always,” she agreed.

  The rest of the evening was spent frosting their cookies. Their mother’s looked professional, with actual Santa faces and wreath decorations on each morsel. Kate splattered all her cookies with purple and orange, her current favorite color scheme, while Annabelle covered all of hers with white frosting and neat lines of colored sprinkles.

  It was the perfect end to a not-so-perfect day, and when Annabelle slid into her bed that night, she pulled out the ID one more time.

  The next day, she would try something new. She would find a way to take meaningful action, no matter what it took.

  FOUR

  The next morning, Annabelle sat at the kitchen table, a large pancake and a mug of black coffee in front of her. Kate had already left for classes for the day, and her parents were busy finishing their bakes for the morning rush.

  After taking her final sip of coffee, Annabelle headed back to her room, where she opened her closet and looked around for something she could wear. Her whole professional life had been lived out on a boat, which meant her nicest work outfit was a black flannel shirt and the jeans without holes in them.

  Not exactly the best disguise, for what she had planned.

  Pushing her clothes to the side, Annabelle reached in the back of her closet and found a suit she’d worn for a mock interview back in college. It would be just the thing.

  She made quick business of changing her outfit and straightening her hair before grabbing her mother’s car keys and heading out into the bakery.

  “Mom, I’m going out,” she said.

  When her mother looked up and saw her outfit, her eyes widened. “You have an interview? Where?”

  Annabelle shrugged. “It might not be anything, so I won’t say, but I’ll be back later today.”

  “How very cryptic of you,” Deborah said, raising an eyebrow.

  Annabelle laughed the comment off. “You know me. I’m full of surprises.”

  She heard a sigh behind her as she headed for the door.

  “Don’t I know it,” her mother said. “Drive safely!”

  “I will!”

  Annabelle slid into the little Honda parked just off the street and had to coax the engine to turn on. She didn’t use the car often, since she rarely had to drive, but she tried to take it at least once a week to get groceries, if for no other reason than to keep it alive.

  She pulled out onto the main road, and headed toward Seattle.

  The towering spire of the Space Needle poked the sky as Annabelle wound her way through traffic, exiting into the city and driving through crowded metropolitan streets until the monolith that was the Frost Energy building blocked out the rising sun before her. She found a gap between cars across the street, and made clumsy work of parallel parking.

  Setting the car in park, Annabelle stared at the silvery building, waiting. She had purposely arrived early, but she began second guessing herself. What if he didn’t show up until noon? He was the CEO, after all. The man was probably on a golf course somewhere. Opting to wait another thirty minutes before seeing if she could get in, Annabelle’s spine tingled when the black limo pulled up in front.

  Chase was the first to exit, followed by a new group of white-haired, suited cronies. The CEO’s blond hair made for a striking contrast with the black of his suit coat, though Annabelle wasn’t quite sure why her mind would notice such a thing. Maybe it was that whole heightened senses thing in the face of danger.

  She slid her hand into her coat pocket, feeling the plastic square of the ID she had swiped. It was now or never.

  Opening the car door, she pressed the lock down before closing it and walking across the street, glancing both ways so as not to be struck down before her adventure could begin. She could see the last of Frost’s company walk through the door, and she grabbed the glass door before it could close all the way, striding in after them as though she were a member of the group.

  An old security guard slouched in a metal chair with a black plastic covering. He sat up when he realized who had just walked in the door, but Frost didn’t even bother to look at the man, merely gesturing to the group to follow after him.

  In an effort to cover her bases, Annabelle flashed her ID to the guard anyway, but he merely nodded and went back to staring at a TV in the upper corner of the lobby.

  So far, so good, she thought.

  A large elevator opened up, and before she could be seen, Annabelle slid in behind one of the men and stood in the corner behind the group.

  “I take it you gentlemen had a comfortable evening?” Chase said, his tone jovial.

  It was weird seeing him like this. When he had looked at them the day before, he had been all pompousness. Today he was clearly trying to impress these old geezers, and his tone and expression were totally different.

  One of the men chuckled. “Well, when you put us up in the best hotel in town, it’s hard to say otherwise—even if the beds were too soft for my taste.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Nathaniel. I’ll be sure to let them know the next time I’m around to consider a more suitable mattress.”

  “You think you can get The Wilkshire to change all their mattresses, simply because of my request?”

  “My dear friend,” the CEO purred, “I’m Chase Frost. I can make anything happen.”

  “Sounds pretty unlikely to me,” another man chimed in.

  It was clear that Chase had his work cut out for him; whatever he wanted from these men, they weren’t about to give it to him without a few cranky old-man complaints first.

  At the twentieth floor, the elevator dinged and opened, and the group exited. Annabelle was grateful, because one more instant of their conversation would have had her tearing off some toupees. She waited until they all headed down the hall before stepping out herself.

  The whole floor was one gray cubicle farm. The walls were gray, the carpet speckled gray to hide stains. Annabelle sent up a silent thank you to the universe for her decision to pursue a career in travel and tourism so she could spend her life interacting with others in the great outdoors.

  At least she’d thought she could, until Chase Frost decided to ruin her life.

  She glanced around. The office was terribly quiet, except for the tapping of computer keys coming from the hidden cube workers all around the floor. There was a series of of
fices alongside them, and Annabelle noticed right away that they were all empty. Maybe these were the people at the golf course this morning, she mused.

  Doing her best to look like she belonged, Annabelle stepped into an office where she could see lots of papers on the desk. She stepped behind the desk and looked down as though she were taking mental notes for someone else. What she saw made her feel sick.

  The large map on the left showed several other planned sites for oil rigs, many of which were not far from Bluewater. To the right of the map were pages of notes detailing how the company planned on implementing these new projects before the following year’s end. Annabelle’s eyes narrowed as she read.