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"There's a lobby phone right over there. Past the nutcrackers and just next to the reindeer."
"Oh, right," I said. "Only, I don't know her room number."
"Well, I can't tell you that," the woman said.
"But maybe you could call up and see if she'd be willing to give it to me? Or to call me, maybe? She has my phone number."
Annabelle's brows lowered. "If you have her number, why not just call her?"
"I don't have her number. She has mine." This was becoming tedious. I shifted my weight as my ankle throbbed, reminding me that standing up for long periods wasn't a great idea.
"Hmmm," Annabelle said, pressing a candy-cane striped fingernail to the side of her chin as she seemed to think. "All right. I'll call her for you. But April isn't here right now."
Surprise spiked in my mind and I frowned at her. "How do you know I'm here for April?"
Annabelle's face flushed and she looked surprised too, but then she made an exasperated noise and leaned forward. "Let's just drop all the pretending. I know who you are, and I know you're giving April a hard time about her show. It's a very small town, Mr. Whitewood, something you may have noticed. And we tend to try to treat each other in a friendly manner around here."
"Is that why you're scolding me? This is Singletree's brand of friendly?"
"Oh. No," Annabelle said, recovering herself and looking around guiltily. "No, sorry. That wasn't nice. It's just that…well, I like April."
"I like April too."
A third voice popped up over my shoulder. "You guys talking about me?" I turned to find April standing directly behind me, her pale cheeks flushed from being out in the cold, and her gorgeous hair falling around her shoulders.
It was my turn to blush. What had I come here for again? I was having a hard time remembering now, after being chastised by a stranger and then declaring loudly that I 'liked' April as she stood behind me. "Hi, uh…" I stammered. "Can I talk to you?" I glanced at Annabelle who was watching me with a curious expression.
April hesitated only for briefest of moments, then said, “Yeah, sure. Hi Annabelle." She smiled at the woman behind the desk, and then moved across the lobby toward a little cottage. "We can talk in here."
I followed her, wondering if there wasn’t maybe a conference room or somewhere we could have actual privacy instead of a fake gingerbread house in the corner. "Isn't this Santa's house?"
"He's not here right now," she said. "Mrs. Claus won't mind." She ducked inside and sat in a huge wing-back chair, leaving me a low stool at the table.
"Okay, well," I sat on the little stool, feeling awkward. "Listen, I just wanted to apologize to you."
Her face remained impassive, cold. "Okay. Thanks." She shifted her weight like she was about to stand up, and I found myself wishing vehemently that she'd stay.
"So, I'm sorry, April. I was rude and harsh, and—"
"No, you were right. I was trying to make you do something you clearly don't want to do, and I wasn't taking no for an answer." She leaned back in the chair again. "I should have just walked away."
"You still didn't deserve me being rude. You were just trying to do your job."
She shrugged. "Doesn't matter."
I wasn't sure why her attitude had changed so dramatically, but I realized I didn't like this beaten-down version of the fiery determined girl who'd barged into my house that first day. I wanted to bring her back. "Why not?"
"I've got all the other houses lined up. It'll just have to be enough. I didn't want to do this show in the first place." She sighed and put her elbows on the little table between us. "It was just that I had to leave my previous show, and my uncle runs the network. This was the only thing he'd give me, and it's my last chance. But I'm starting to realize that maybe television production isn't my passion anyway. Maybe I don't care."
"You seemed pretty passionate that first day when you popped into my house uninvited," I said, trying to get a rise out of her, bring back some of the fire in her eyes.
She squinted for a second, like she was thinking about that. "Yeah, well, I was worried about getting fired."
"So are you going to get fired?"
"Probably." She stood up. "Not your problem though."
As she crossed the tiny room in front of me, I reached out and grabbed her hand without thinking. But as soon as I held her warm skin between my fingers, my mind raced and my heart accelerated. I didn't want April Hall to walk away from me, and I didn't want her to lose her job because of me. "Listen," I said, as she turned and looked down at where I still held her hand. "Maybe it'd be okay. The filming thing."
