Christmas Secrets. Barbara Dunlop

      As a significant shareholder in Coast Eagle, no matter how things turned out in the long term, Cole knew he needed to understand the company. He and Luca had both been in daily contact with Aviation 58 since arriving in Atlanta, but Luca now offered to take over as much as possible on the Alaska operation.

      Luckily, even leading into the busy holiday travel season, things seemed well under control at Aviation 58. There were no unexpected maintenance issues, passenger load was as predicted and the Alaskan weather was cooperating surprisingly well.

      Cole entered the Coast Eagle building and was immediately recognized. Security greeted him and called up to the executive floor to announce his arrival.

      As he exited the elevator, he was greeted by the receptionist, Sandra, who was exceedingly welcoming and polite this time. She introduced him to Samuel’s personal assistant, a fiftyish man named Bartholomew Green. Bartholomew had a British accent and was dressed in a dark formal suit, a matching vest, crisp white shirt and a gold tie.

      Samuel’s office was also ostentatious, with a huge, ornately carved cherrywood desk, and a massive credenza with cut-glass decanters. A sofa and two armchairs had diamond tufted, dark leather upholstery, while expensive oil paintings hung on the walls. Cole couldn’t help wonder how his down-to-earth mother had fallen in love with the man he was learning about.

      “Will you be moving into the office today, sir?” asked Bartholomew.

      “I will,” said Cole.

      The last thing in the world he wanted to do was step into his father’s shoes. But he needed to make a statement. Roth, the judge and everybody else had to see he was taking the reins—even if it was only temporary.

      He took in Bartholomew’s attire once more. He supposed he’d have to update his own wardrobe, and he was going to make the same recommendation to Amber. She was next on his list of things to deal with at Coast Eagle.

      “Can you set up a meeting with Max and the vice presidents for this afternoon?” Cole asked Bartholomew.

      “Do you have a preferred time, sir?”

      “Two o’clock.” Cole couldn’t have cared less about the time, but he needed to be the guy making the decisions.

      “The east boardroom?”

      “Sounds fine. Can you direct me to Amber Welsley’s office?”

      “She’s in accounting. That’s on the seventh floor. Shall I show you the way?”

      “Is it overly complicated?”

      Bartholomew seemed to allow himself a small smile. “Left when you get off the elevator, first hallway on your right.”

      “I think I can manage. No need for a tour guide.”

      “Very good, sir.”

      “Anything else I should know?” Cole asked, curious to know where Bartholomew’s loyalties would lie.

      “What would you like to know?”

      Cole paused to gauge the man’s expression. “What do you think is important?”

      An intelligent light came into Bartholomew’s eyes. “Mr. Henderson had a lot of faith in Sidney. I believe that was appropriate. He also had a lot of faith in Roth. I believe that faith may have been misplaced. He also understood the need to deploy Julius in certain situations.”

      “Such as?”

      “Would you like me to be blunt?”

      “Always.”

      “Julius is a pit bull. But he’s Coast Eagle’s pit bull.”

      “What about Max Cutter?”

      “Max Cutter will be completely up front and honest with you. If I had to guess, I’d say he can’t wait to get out of the president’s role and back to the legal department.”

      Cole agreed with that assessment. Max had said as much himself.

      “And Amber Welsley?” Cole asked.

      “I knew Mrs. Henderson a lot better than I knew Ms. Welsley.”

      “Impressions?”

      “She has always struck me as hardworking but below the radar. I’m not certain she thought very highly of Mr. Samuel Henderson.”

      “He married her baby sister.”

      “Indeed. Though I’m not certain she was a fan of Mrs. Henderson, either.”

      “May I rely on your discretion, Bartholomew?”

      “You may.”

      “Good to know.” Cole was impressed with the man so far.

      “If I may, sir?”

      “Yes?”

      “You haven’t asked about Samuel Henderson.”

      “That’s because I don’t want to know.”

      Bartholomew was silent for a moment. “Very good.”

      “Is that a problem for you?”

      “Not at all.”

      Cole looked through the doorway to the outer office and Bartholomew’s desk. “Give me the lay of the land here.”

      Bartholomew moved to stand beside him. “You’ve seen reception, and my desk is right there. The office to your right is the president’s. Max isn’t using it, because he already has an office on this floor. Around the corner to your left is Roth, next to him is Julius, and Sidney is around the corner from the president’s office. The east boardroom is next to Sidney, and the west meeting room is next to Julius. After that, you’re through reception to the director’s offices and the executive lunch room.”

      “Is everyone in today?”

      “As I understand it, yes.”

      “Thank you, Bartholomew.” Cole exited the office and made his way to the elevator in the reception area.

      Under Sandra’s veiled curiosity, he pressed the button for seven. He could well imagine the conversations and speculation would start the second the door closed behind him. That was good. He wanted people to wonder.

      On the seventh floor, he took a left then a right, quickly finding Amber’s office.

      Her door was open, and he was taken aback by the small size. She sat at her desk, head down, writing on a financial sheet.

      “There’s an adding error on report sixteen,” she said without looking up, obviously hearing him arrive. “I know we have to pull the soft commitments in manually, but we need to make sure the formulas are—”

      She spotted Cole in the doorway. “Sorry.” His presence seemed to fluster her. “I assumed you were my assistant.”

      “Nope.” He walked in.

      She sat up straight and set down her pen. “You’re here.”

      “I’m here.” He glanced around. “More to the point, you’re here.”

      “I’m usually here.”

      “This is your office?”

      “It is.”

      “So the office of the assistant director of finance?”

      “That would be me.”

      He braced himself on the desk across from her. “Not anymore.”

      She drew back. “Have I been fired?”

      “Promoted. Or haven’t you been paying attention?”

      “Being temporarily nominated as guardian is not a promotion.”

      “You’re chair of the board.”