One Wish In Manhattan (A Christmas Story) by Mandy Baggot Page A

uncalled for. It was a low blow when she was already emotional. His mother was getting to her feet but he wasn’t going to stop her. This needed tough love. He had to be cruel to be kind
    ‘If you won’t spend Christmas Day with me then you leave me with no other choice,’ Cynthia said, slipping the handbag over her shoulder then rolling the tissue inside the sleeve of her jacket.
    This didn’t sound like a better option. This sounded like she was about to launch a grenade his way. He met her gaze then and waited for her next words.
    ‘It’s the Christmas fundraiser for the McArthur Foundation coming up. As well as organising the whole event and sweet-talking the local dignitaries for donations, they’ve also asked me to speak this year.’ Cynthia took two steps towards the door. ‘Thank you for nominating yourself in my place. I’ll email you the details.’
    She couldn’t do that to him. She wouldn’t.
    ‘Mom, I can’t,’ he said. He dug his hands down into the pockets of his trousers to hide the tremor.
    A chill settled on his skin as what she’d said started to sink in. Talking in public was what he did. But about technology. About the company’s work, implementation and progress, lines of strategy. Not about anything personal. The McArthur Foundation fundraiser was a sparkling, twinkling, barrel of Christmas affair. There would be tables of notable Manhattan businessmen and women, probably the mayor and the police commissioner, but much worse than that, families of people affected by the cause the money was being raised for.
    ‘No, Oliver, you can. And you will .’ She put her hand on the door. ‘You might be able to let me down without a second thought, but you will not let down that charity or betray our connection to it.’
    Cynthia whipped open the door and very nearly bowled into Clara carrying the tray of coffee.
    ‘Oh, Mrs Drummond I was …’ Clara started.
    ‘I can’t stay I’m afraid, Clara.’ Cynthia cast a look back Oliver’s way. ‘I don’t want to take up any more of Oliver’s precious time.’
    He swallowed the pebble of emotion in his throat and dropped his eyes to the floor. Could this day get any worse?

8
    Drummond Global Offices, Downtown Manhattan, USA

    O liver had been staring at the figures so hard they were all merging into one big numerical mess. He had structured and re-structured these figures for the Globe so many times. He strained his eyes, forcing them to look harder at the chart in front of him. They actually ached, hurting from overuse. He sat back in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. If he was truthful to himself he’d had a headache ever since his mother had left the office that morning. He’d bumbled his way through a lunch meeting, Cole having to do most of the work to get the client onside, and then he’d spent the rest of the day holed up in his office looking at figures and proposals he should have looked at weeks ago. Now he was trying to direct his focus on the thing he cared about most at the moment, the launch of his tablet. He picked up his pen, held it over the report for a second then dropped it back to the desk. It was no good.
    The only thing on his mind was the damn McArthur Foundation fundraiser. And how he was going to get out of it. Because that’s what he had to do. There was no way he was going to let his mother put him in that position. The charity stuff was her thing, not his. She liked it. She spent half her life doing it. He, on the other hand, detested the emotion of it all. If people wanted to donate money to a cause then good for them, but he didn’t see the need for dressing up in tuxedos and ball gowns to show how well-meaning you were. Blatant publicity seeking like that had never been his bag.
    He grabbed up the baseball stress ball and squeezed it tight in his hand until his knuckles turned white. He released his grip just as the door swung open. Clara came in, almost dropping