Mattison drove herself, and happily so, since it meant she didn’t get there any earlier than necessary once early morning band rehearsals ended.
But it was Friday night. As soon as Cole left in a few minutes, she’d curl up under the blanket in her bed and sleep until she woke up. If she was really lucky, it wouldn’t even be morning anymore.
“The vendor meeting is tomorrow morning at eight.” Cole stuck the folder into his bag. “I’ll be there no later than seven. What about you?”
How had she missed that he wanted her there? “Um, sure. I can be there at seven.” She might end up crying herself to sleep first, but she’d be there. Surely God would understand if she overslept on Sunday. Either that or she’d nap the day away. Two in the afternoon wasn’t too early for bedtime was it?
“What time are you actually getting to bed this week?” he asked, his eyes narrow.
“Not long after you leave,” she equivocated. “I’m fine. It’s just been a long day.” A long week after an even longer week, with one long week after another on tap for the next few weeks. Maybe she’d get to sleep over Christmas break. “I’m fine,” she reiterated.
“Okay then. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Brittany walked him to the door. She leaned heavily against it as he opened the screen door covered by glass this time of year. “Have a good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Cole smiled down at her, much softer than it had been most of the times previously. “Thank you for all of your help this week. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it. Without you, the meeting tomorrow wouldn’t even be happening. No one would even be willing to talk to me, much less actually participate in a meeting where they might not get what they want.”
What everyone wanted was prime space, but that wasn’t going to happen. There simply wasn’t enough prime space to go around. She thought they’d come up with an equitable way for everyone to have a shot, but the next morning would be the true test.
“Thank you, really. I mean it. I do this for a living, but usually the community is on board with our company coming in. I don’t just get dropped in.”
“How often do you actually go to small towns?” She leaned her head against the door and willed herself not to yawn.
“Not often anymore. Usually just in the city where it’s close anyway. But I have employees that go to other towns all over the country. It’s rarely just drop-in like this has been. They’re expected and do a lot of preplanning with whoever the local coordinator is before they even arrive.”
“So why were you just dropped in?”
“Why does Vi... Mrs. Braverman do anything?” he replied with a shrug.
Her eyes narrowed. “You know Violet Braverman?”
Cole winced. “She might be my great-aunt. But I’d rather no one else know that. I don’t want people acting differently, good or bad, based on that relationship.”
“I can understand that. I won’t tell anyone. But why did she hand it all to me only to call you in a few days later?”
“Who knows? She’s half-crazy.”
Not really. They both knew that. But she could be eccentric. That must be part of what this was. Her eccentricity.
Unless... No. Brittany didn’t even let the thought fully form, much less mention it out loud.
She couldn’t be trying to set them up, could she?
No way.
That wasn’t even within the realm of almost possible.
Mrs. Braverman could be sneaky sometimes. She even played matchmaker once in a while. But she wouldn’t have called her great-nephew from New York to visit the middle-of-almost-nowhere Missouri just to set him up with someone who had no intention of ever moving elsewhere.
Because she had a feeling Cole was pretty well entrenched in New York.
So that couldn’t be it.
Maybe Mrs. Braverman just wanted him to embrace a slower pace of life. Was he already on blood pressure medicine at his age? That could do it. But then why not just convince him to take a vacation rather than working during the holiday season in a town that didn’t want him?
No one would be able to ascertain Mrs. Braverman’s motives. Not without her showing up and announcing them in the town square for all and sundry. Even if she told someone privately, there was no telling if she’d tell the whole truth. Not if it suited her purposes.
Not that she was a liar per se, just weaseled around the truth when she felt it was for the better good of the person or persons involved.
“I’ll see you in the morning. Thank you for keeping my relationship with Violet to yourself. I appreciate it.” He gave her another soft smile then walked away.
Brittany closed the door behind him and leaned against it. So much for sleeping in. But at least the Winterfest seemed to be back on track. Rather than heading straight for bed, she decided to grade papers. Just for an hour. She wouldn't be done, but at least it was progress.
And maybe she'd be able to sleep as soon as she went to bed and not regret it in the morning.
Probably not.
But maybe.
Standing in front of the group in the old community center was one of the most difficult things Cole had done in his life. The glares from men and women of all ages, all wondering how he was going to fairly redistribute the stall spaces.
“Brittany and I have come up with what we feel is a fair way to redistribute the booth locations for this year’s Winterfest.” The glowering intensified.
Brittany took over. “When it’s your turn to choose, you’ll need to pick one of the spots designated for your kind of booth. We’ve mixed in the non-profit booths with the store and craft booths this year.”
Because there were people who would help a child create a craft for their parent or grandparent or other loved one. Previously, they’d all been in one area, far from where most people actually spent their time, something Cole never would have known if Brittany hadn’t stayed on to help out.
“How are we doing this, Brit?” Lisa called out. Wasn’t that what Brittany had said her name was? “And how is it going to be fair for a new business like me? I’ll never have a chance at a good spot. It’s not my fault I’m not old and didn’t have my parents hand down a spot to me.” She glared at the bookstore owner.
Cole managed to contain his wince. “We’ve looked as far back in the records as we can, pieced together all of the information available to us, to determine how many years each booth has been in operation.” He tilted his head toward an older gentleman in the front. “Mr. Lotson is the longest at sixty years between himself and his parents.”
“Wait a minute!” The bookstore owner jumped up. Mrs. Beach, wasn’t it? “My in-laws were here the first year, too. I’m tied for longest.”
Brittany had begged him to handle this if it came up, and she’d known it would. “I’m sorry, ma’am. There’s one year where we have no record of your family having a booth. That puts you at fifty-nine years. If you have proof they were here in 1963, we’d be happy to make the adjustment next year.”
She huffed but sat down.
“We’re having a lottery, of sorts,” Brittany went on. “A drawing.” She held up a bowl. “Each booth is in here once for every year they’ve been in Winterfest. Mr. Lotson has sixty. Beach’s Book Bonanza has fifty-nine, and so on, down to Lisa with three and a couple of new booths with one each. There’s no way to predetermine who will be picked next. Once your name has been chosen, you will choose your spot on the square.” She gestured to a large sign that hadn’t been uncovered yet. “You’ll put the pin with your number on it on the spot you choose.”
The numbers were mostly the addresses of the different businesses. None of them had the same street number which was handy for this reason.
“The different kinds of booths are different colors so there’s no question what kind of location it is delegated for,” Cole added. “If you want to look later at how many of your numbers were in the bowl, feel free to do so. We don’t want there to
be any questions about the fairness of what’s happening.”
He heard several of the old timers muttering that they’d be sure to do just that. Unless they got their preferred spots of course.
The bowl wasn’t actually a bowl. It was a twelve-quart stock pot strainer. Brittany thought the fact it was a strainer would make it seem less likely that she was cheating somehow. Something about the holes, he guessed. But it was the only thing she had that was big enough for all of the slips of paper and to stick her hand in and move them all around.
Brittany reached her hand in, swirled it around a bit, then pulled out a one-inch by three-inch slip of paper. She checked it against the master list. “The organization that chooses first is Serenity Landing Theater Boosters.”
“What?” Mr. Lotson exploded. “This is their first year! They’re not even from Trumanville!”
“Sit down, Amos.” Mrs. Beach snapped at him before Cole could step in. “They don’t have the same kind of booth you do anyway.”
A woman Cole hadn’t met walked up to the table and took a straight pin from Brittany, along with the slip of paper. The sheet was finally pulled from over the large sign with the map on it. She looked it over for several minutes before sticking the pin in a craft booth near Santa’s workshop.
Mrs. Beach hopped up. “Before this farce goes any further, I want to examine the layout.”
Before Cole and Brittany could stop the vendors, they moved en masse toward the layout board. She looked at him, a look of helplessness on her face as the exclamations came in.
“Out of the way.”
“Don’t elbow me.”
“My booth is always in front of my shop and now it’s a charity booth?”
“Where’s Vi? She’ll fix this.”
And so much more.
“Back to your seats, please,” Cole stepped in front of the board. “Mrs. Braverman asked me to assist Ms. Acevedo with planning the Winterfest this year. She put us in charge. Period. If you don’t like it, you’re free to go and your fee will be refunded. However, you will start at year one next year, regardless of how the spots are handed out.” He had no idea if he could make good on the threat once his great-aunt was back in town, but he had to make it anyway.
The grumbling continued as the vendors all went back to their seats.
The next name drawn was someone who’d been around for a couple of decades. There was muttering but not too much. The third name was similar. A charity involved for eighteen years. Then Lisa.
She squealed as the first real sales vendor.
Then stood in front of the board for five minutes waffling over whether to take the booth closest to her store or one near Santa’s Workshop and more foot traffic. Finally, after Brittany prodded her multiple times, she took the spot near the courthouse closer to the center of the action. It wasn’t quite closest, but because it was a corner spot, it had more traffic frontage than a spot with more booths on either side.
It took nearly four hours, far longer than it should have because of how much arguing broke out. Mr. Lotson got his spot right after Lisa. Mrs. Beach wasn’t much farther down the list. Mattison’s grandmother was near the end and didn’t fail to let everyone know of her great displeasure, even threatening to disown her granddaughter over it.
When her back was turned to the room, Brittany rolled her eyes at Cole, letting him know she didn’t think it was a serious threat.
Cole walked Brittany to her car after they cleaned up. She’d meticulously documented each choice and taken pictures of the board which would be left in the old community center for the time being. It would soon become headquarters until the actual start of Winterfest when it would be part of the festivities.
“Thank you,” he told her as she put her things in the back seat then stood next to the driver’s door he’d opened for her. “This never would have worked without you.”
She just shrugged. “Sure, it would have. It probably would have been easier. A lot of them don’t think I can handle this. You’re a professional. They would have come around.”
Cole couldn’t stop himself. He reached out and brushed the hair back off her face. “You’re far more capable than you give yourself credit for, Brittany Acevedo.”
A blush crept into her cheeks.
He hadn’t kissed her ten days earlier when a rowdy group of teens appeared in the Park.
What was stopping him now?
Chapter 7
Two weeks flew past. Between staying up late grading and working with Cole on the Winterfest, Brittany barely had time to sleep, but she hadn’t felt this sense of accomplishment in a very long time.
Everything was ready.
They just needed to show up and pray it all went smoothly the next day.
“We’re ready.” Cole smiled down at her from where he stood by the door. He looked almost as tired as she felt, though he hadn’t worked a day job while planning this thing. He’d done more than his share of the labor while she taught classes, though. He’d overseen the set-up all day on Friday while she gave finals. At least grades weren’t due until she got back to school a few days into the new year.
“I know. But I never would have been able to do this by myself. Thank you.”
He reached out and brushed the hair back off her face. He’d done that more than once. This time his finger seemed to accidentally graze her cheek.
He’d almost kiss her twice, but there had been no mention of the attraction between them or what might be happening.
Probably better that way. Ignore it. Then when he went back to New York, it wouldn’t be so painful.
“You need to get back to the B&B.” She leaned the side of her head against the door. “I need to get some sleep. Six comes early.”
They had to be downtown by seven to oversee everything before the parade started at nine. The booths would be set up but covered until the parade ended then open for business about the time the line for Santa officially opened.
“When this is over, I’m taking you to dinner.” He stifled a yawn. “I don’t know where yet but not the diner.”
Brittany grinned. “Good. Because I’m sick of it.” They’d eaten there every day for the last week and a half.
Cole backed out of the screen door onto the porch. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“See you then.”
She waited until he drove off then quickly went through her bedtime routine and crashed hard.
It was still dark when she left the next morning, a Thermos of coffee in each hand. When she reached the Community Center, Cole stood next to his rental car. He opened her car door, and she handed out one of the Thermoses.
He opened the lid and inhaled deeply. “Just what I needed. Thank you.”
She’d left everything in the community center conference room. The main room had been decked out to be Santa’s Workshop after the festival itself ended later in the day. For the next four days, the big guy would be available several hours a day and in the evenings. For a town their size, they kept the line fairly full most of the time. Springfield was nearly forty-five minutes away, likely more given holiday traffic and the drive around the lake, and Trumanville was known for having the best Santa in Pond Creek County. Kids from all over the area came, plus those who stayed at the resort. Many families visited every year and made it a tradition.
“There is someone here to talk to us,” Cole said. “I let him in already.”
When they walked into the room, Brittany recognized the man standing there, but couldn’t place him.
He slid his phone into his pocket and held out a hand. “I’m Jonathan Langley-Cranston. I handle security for several of the area’s more notable residents, and I have a fairly large family who’ve asked if you can accommodate a private visit to Kris Kringle.”
That’s who he was. Brittany had heard of him, seen him on television and in the papers many times. She glanced at Cole who gave a slight nod. “I’m sure we can arrange something, but it would need to be out
side of our regularly scheduled hours, and we’ll have to talk to Santa.”
“Of course.” Jonathan gave her a slight nod. “It’s a large extended family, but I believe the smaller subgroups would also like individual turns and photos. However, the photos can never become public without express written consent. They’re for personal use only.”
Brittany gaped at him. “We would never release something like that.”
“I know Mrs. Braverman runs a tight ship and would expect nothing less from those she left in charge.” He checked his calendar. “The best time would be early morning two days before Christmas. They’re from farther east, and the children never fully acclimate to the time change when they’re only here for a couple of days.”
She ran through the schedule in her mind. “That should work, pending Santa’s availability, that is.”
He handed her a card with his number on it. “Just let me know as soon as you do, and we can work out the details.” Jonathan started for the door. “I’ll let you get to work. I’ll be back with my wife and kids for the parade, though. Thank you.”
“Our pleasure,” Cole told him, locking the door behind him. No one else was supposed to arrive for a while.
“Who you do you think he’s talking about?” She didn’t pay much attention to the goings on in the area, not enough to know which notable visitors he might be working for.
“If I had to guess, I’d say one or more of the royal families who own homes in the area. There’s several of them.”
Brittany nearly choked on her sip of coffee. “Royal families? Like kings and queens? Princes and princesses? Things like that?” She knew the one guy from Serenity Landing had married a princess who became queen, but that was about it.
He shrugged. “Just a guess, but I don’t know who else would warrant an early morning visit and such secrecy.”
Before she could say anything else, a knock on the door started their morning of controlled chaos. Radios and headsets ruled the day.
The parade went off almost without a hitch. Several of the groups ran out of candy before they reached the end, so the kids closest to the square - and Santa’s Workshop for the day - didn’t get as much as the kids earlier on the route.
Love on Parade Page 5
