by Annie Rains
He hadn’t answered her question.
“Santa’s elves don’t wear jackets.” Despite her best efforts, Rosalie shivered.
Everett sighed. “Santa’s elves have Christmas magic to keep them warm.”
Her chest constricted.
He’d mentioned Christmas magic, a clue that there might be a heart buried beneath all that frozen tundra.
Impossible.
Rosalie lifted her chin. “If you want to see Christmas magic, you should come to Sunshine Pets.”
He sighed again, but it wasn’t an angry sigh. In fact, a smile seemed to be lingering at the corner of his mouth.
She waited for that smile, despite snow and wind and cold. She waited and wondered if his smile would have the same impact as his use of the words Christmas magic.
The smile didn’t come. “Don’t you ever give up, Rosalie?”
“Nope.” Rosalie smiled brightly at her adversary because no one ever beat city hall by shouting. “I’m looking forward to our next Holiday Event Committee meeting.” The group he’d formed to plan celebrations of holidays year-round. “What time is it again?”
“Monday after you close up shop for the day.” Everett left her on the sidewalk and headed toward the bakery.
“See you around.” Rosalie breathed easier now that his back was to her. “Come on, Remy. Let’s spread more holiday cheer”—and awareness of her pet store—“before I lose feeling in my legs.”
Besides, there was bound to be an ordinance against frozen business owners on the sidewalk.
She traipsed around the town square at a good clip.
“Merry Christmas.” One of the Bodine twins emerged from the bakery in a T-shirt and brown apron. The Bodine twins were identical, and it was impossible to tell whether this one was Steve or Phil since they both worked at the bakery. “Mr. Bollinger said to give you this.” The tall teen handed her a cup with a lid.
Rosalie stopped. “Mr. Bollinger?” Scrooge?
Everett was nowhere to be seen in the bakery but the Widows Club board sat at a table near the window and waved to her. A toddler with blond curls and a wide smile sat in Mims’s lap, waving too. The group caught Remy’s attention. He pressed his face against the glass and gave them a doggy grin.
Rosalie accepted the cup, cradling its warmth in both hands. “Is it coffee?” A latte would be heaven about now.
“Hot chocolate with extra whip.” The teen grinned. “Mr. B. wanted you to have something hot and sweet.”
“Probably because I’m out here burning off too many calories,” she mumbled. “I need the sugar to avoid freezing.” Everett seemed the practical sort.
“No, no. Mr. B. said you needed a drink to warm you up and that you deserved something as sweet as you were on the inside.” The Bodine boy darted back in the bakery, stopping to talk to Bitsy before returning to his place behind the counter.
Rosalie met Remy’s gaze.
Her dog shook his head, a loud flapping of ears that knocked his antlers askew.
The candy canes. The mention of Christmas magic. And now this gift.
Rosalie straightened her dog’s antlers. “I think you’re right, Remy. It’s hard to believe, but I think Everett Bollinger has a heart after all.”
“I’ve gone soft,” Everett muttered as he entered the town hall.
He no longer tolerated rule benders and rule breakers. And Rosalie…She challenged him on every ordinance, every regulation.
Which was why it made no sense that he’d spoken to Rosalie about Christmas magic.
At least I had the presence of mind to refuse the Widows Club suggestion that I buy her a hot chocolate. Still…
“I’ve gone soft,” he muttered again as he removed his coat. Soft wasn’t in his plans.
“Ev, you are anything but soft.” Yolanda, his assistant and the front desk clerk, was decorating a Christmas tree in the lobby. She brushed back her shoulder-length gray hair, revealing dangly Christmas tree earrings. “I have people tell me that every day. Scrooge is the nicest name they call you.”
“I’m not taking that personally.” Everett hung his coat on a hook by the door, reminded of Rosalie, coatless, with gloves so thin they were unraveling, walking around outside in green long johns and freezing her heinie off. “I was hired to be the bad cop to Kevin’s good mayor.”
He’d been contracted to increase Sunshine’s coffers, something Mayor Kevin Hadley had struggled with because he was a nice guy.
I used to be like him.
But nice guys always finished last. Everett wasn’t going to be anyone’s nice guy again.
He paused, surveying Yolanda’s work. Twinkling lights on twisted cords, shiny balls that had seen better days, small paper snowflakes. Up close, he was pleased with the cost-cutting décor. “Where did you get the tree?”
“Never fear, oh mighty Ebenezer.” Yolanda delivered her words with humor, not sting. “It’s fake and came out of storage. I didn’t spend a penny of the town’s money on it. You know, you’re taking all the fun out of Christmas.”
“I like to think I’m cutting the fat from the budget.” And none too soon. But Everett wasn’t a total wet blanket when it came to Christmas. He went into his office and returned with a plain brown cardboard box and a simple sign that read, TOY DRIVE.
Yolanda glanced up. “Oh. That’s nice. And just when I was convinced that I didn’t like you.”
“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t reject Christmas.” Everett placed a tin on the counter with child-size candy canes he’d bought with his own money. “Remember, I signed off on the expenditures for tree decorating in the town square.”
“Uh-huh.” Yolanda smirked. “Only after the mayor requested it.”
Before Everett could reply, a man in his early thirties came in the front door. Beaming, he greeted Yolanda and then introduced himself to Everett with a firm handshake. “I’m Haywood Lawson, local real estate agent. I hear you’re the one to talk to about special events.”
“This ought to be good,” Yolanda muttered, sprinkling the tree with tinsel.
“You want to hold a special event?” Everett leaned on the counter, unable to resist guessing what that event might be—beer fest, outdoor concert, community yard sale? Haywood had a strong grip. Maybe he was the athletic type. “We’re in the initial planning stages for a mudder,” Everett said. The outdoor obstacle courses challenged competitors physically and emotionally.
“It’s not that kind of event.” Some of the shine came off Haywood’s smile, but then he brought it right back to beam-strength. “I want to propose to my girlfriend in the town square after the tree-lighting ceremony on Friday. The choir is going to be there and has agreed to sing when she says yes.”
“You don’t need my permission for that.” Or a permit of any kind. Everett straightened, preparing to retreat to his office and the stack of paperwork that awaited him.
“Whew.” Haywood grinned. “I’d heard—”
Yolanda coughed.
“And…um…” Haywood seemed to think better of what he’d been about to say and grinned some more. “Back in the day, my dad proposed to my mom in the town square, and then the town bells rang.” At Everett’s blank look, Haywood added, “There are bells in the town hall’s belfry. They haven’t been rung in years.”
Everett glanced at Yolanda. “And that would be because…”
“It’s a long story,” his assistant hedged.
“And yet I have time.” Not really, but enough time to hear why the town bells weren’t used.
Yolanda gave Haywood an apologetic glance. “The last time they were rung…Well, it was over a decade ago. There was this group of athletic boosters from the high school. They’d been celebrating Kevin’s recruitment to play quarterback at Western Colorado University. But they jammed too many people in the belfry, and things got a little…squishy…for the occupants as the bell swung back and forth.”
Everett sucked in air and held himself still, preparing to hea
r the worst.
“No one was killed,” Haywood was quick to point out, allaying Everett’s fears.
“Understandably, we stopped allowing citizens to ring the bell after that.” Yolanda made a weak attempt at a smile. “But this is different. We can have someone on staff ring the bell when Haywood pops the question.”
That would be very Kevin-like, soft on regulations and protocol.
Everett frowned, not like Kevin at all. “I’d have to calculate the cost.”
The pair blinked at him.
“What cost?” Haywood was no longer smiling, not even a little bit.
Everett didn’t care. He didn’t feel a twinge of remorse for being fiscally responsible. “I imagine this would take a fifteen-minute commitment from a town employee, so an increment of their hourly rate.”
“I’ll volunteer my time to do the bell ringing.” Yolanda gripped the tinsel as if it were Everett’s neck. “After all, it’s for love.”
And what fools did for love…
“I can’t authorize that, Yolanda.” There was nothing soft inside Everett. Nothing at all. “If you aren’t on the clock, if things get…squishy…the town of Sunshine will be liable for your injuries—or death, should it go that far.”
“It won’t go that far.” Yolanda shook her tinsel. “It’ll just be me and the bell, which will give me about two more feet of clearance in the belfry.”
Kevin came downstairs from his office. “What’s up?”
“We’re discussing the fee for bell ringing,” Yolanda said darkly. “Things in this town didn’t used to be so complicated.”
Everett leaned on the counter and brought the mayor up to speed. “There are two issues here: liability for squishiness”—he raised his eyebrows Yolanda’s way—“and precedent. If we ring the bells for Haywood without charge, we have to ring them for every happy couple who walks through our door.” Our. As if he were staying.
He wasn’t.
“Precedent? You mean when our constituents enter expecting a small service for free?” Kevin smiled. He was a politician, and it was a good smile. But it was a smile that had nearly pushed the town into bankruptcy. “That’s a good precedent to set.”
“I’ll pay,” Haywood blurted, clearly uncomfortable. “Will fifty dollars do it?”
“I think that’s fair.” Everett took a candy cane from the tin and handed it to the would-be groom. “And now we know the going rate for bell ringing. Yolanda, can you take Haywood’s money and write him a receipt?” He told her which fund to deposit it to. “Kevin, when you have a minute, I’d like a word.”
The door opened again. A uniformed deliveryman entered with a clipboard. “Is there an Everett Bollinger here? I’ve got a delivery in the truck.”
“That’s me.” Everett reached for the clipboard, trying to remember what he might have ordered and drawing a blank.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am to find you,” the deliveryman said. Once in possession of his clipboard, he hurried back outside.
“We can talk in my office when you’re ready.” Kevin disappeared upstairs.
There was a commotion outside, like the sound of fingernails on chalkboard or…
It can’t be.
Everett’s view was obstructed by a tree. He rushed to open the door, facing his worst fear. “I can’t accept that.” He had to shout to be heard above the scruffy little dog inside a plastic crate, who was yapping her displeasure with hoarse vocal cords.
Tinkerbell hated her crate.
“Too late.” The delivery guy thrust the small cage into Everett’s arms. “I drove over a hundred miles with her. You signed. She’s all yours.” He practically ran out the door, calling, “Merry Christmas!”
Yolanda said something Everett couldn’t hear over Tinkerbell’s protest.
He turned, hoping to be able to read her lips.
“No dogs in the workplace,” she shouted, grinning. “Even on Saturdays.”
“She’s not my dog.” But Tinkerbell was his problem.
Everett hurried into his office and closed the door. “Tink, calm down.” His ex-wife’s dog pressed her button nose through the bars and sniffed. Her little tail wagged over the remains of what looked like a pink sweater. “Come on out.” Everett set down the crate and opened the door.
The brown terrier mix leaped out and piddled in the corner.
“Tink,” he scolded, grabbing wads of tissue and mopping up the puddle.
Tinkerbell raced around him, yapping. There was no telling how long she’d been in her carrier. A quick search of the crate revealed nothing—no water bowl, no leash, no food. Only the remains of that sweater.
Kevin opened Everett’s office door. “Everything okay in here?”
Tink barked and panted and ran in circles around Kevin’s feet until Everett snatched her up.
“It’s my ex-wife’s dog.” Sitting on the edge of his desk, Everett poured water into his empty coffee mug and then gave her a drink. “Lydia’s mother was supposed to keep Tink while she was…away.” Something must have happened.
Tink stretched to lick Everett’s chin as if to say, It wasn’t my fault.
“I’m sure this is just temporary.” Everett adjusted his glasses with his free hand.
“I don’t know if it should be.” Kevin stepped inside and closed the door. “This is just what you need.”
Everett was quick to disagree. “Tink is…” High maintenance, like his ex-wife. “I work long hours. It’s not fair for me to have a dog.” Which was why his ex-mother-in-law had agreed to take Tinkerbell in the first place.
A few scratches behind the ears and Tink stopped giving doggy-shouts of displeasure.
Kevin settled down too, sitting in a chair on the visitor’s side of Everett’s desk. “Do you remember when we first met?”
“Yes.” Everett fought a frown, confused by the change in subject. “At a conference in Denver.”
His boss nodded. “You were speaking about the balance between fiscal responsibility and community building.”
“Yes.” That was back before Lydia had been arrested for embezzling from the city Everett had been managing. Before her conviction and the confiscation of 99 percent of their worldly possessions to repay what she’d stolen.
“Hiring you was a risk given what your wife…” Kevin trailed off. He’d been good about avoiding the topic, as had Everett. And then the mayor gave Everett his winning smile. “Hiring you has paid big dividends. You’ve done a great job finding places where money was leaking or where we can ask our businesses and constituents to pay for Sunshine’s services. Your outreach for business development out by the highway has been stellar. For the first time in a long time, there’s potential for growth in Sunshine’s future.”
Everett’s chest swelled with pride. When he’d been hired, Sunshine was a town on the verge of bankruptcy. In nearly six months, he’d worked miracles. If he could unload one piece of property from the town books, there’d be a surplus in the budget and a shine to his tarnished reputation. And then he could make a move to bigger things and a bigger town.
“But, Everett, I didn’t just hire you to adjust our financial course. What we’re lacking here is the balance between the two—financial stability and community services.” Kevin’s smile sharpened to a point where Everett’s pride was punctured. “I need community building, or come the next election cycle, I’m toast.”
Everett would be long gone before the next election. “It hasn’t all been about the finances. I started the Holiday Event Committee.” The goal of which was to add events to Sunshine’s municipal calendar that generated revenue year-round. But he’d also put events on the calendar that cost nothing, like Rosalie’s upcoming evening dog walk through Christmas Tree Lane.
“You and I both know that’s not enough.” Kevin had a way of looking at Everett that cut through all the bull. “Yolanda needs to be empowered to grant small, personal requests like Haywood’s.”
“Like ringing the bells when
someone proposes?” Soft. It was soft and lacked the structure to protect the town’s economic interests.
Kevin nodded. “Or giving Yolanda more than one hour to decorate the office for Christmas. On a Saturday, no less.”
“Strict performance guidelines means no one will shout about nepotism.” The way they’d shouted at him after Lydia’s crime had come to light.
“I’m willing to foot a few hours’ bill to show some holiday cheer.” Kevin’s tone was cajoling. “The goodwill gained is worth it. Christmas spirit goes a long way around here.”
Tinkerbell perked up her ears and tilted her head as if confused.
Everett could relate. “I don’t follow.”
Kevin stood. “Decorate your apartment’s exterior for the season, for one. In a small town like Sunshine, people notice these things.”
“But…I’m never there.” Except to sleep.
“The bare minimum will do. Put a wreath on the door. Frame your window with holiday lights on a timer.” Kevin patted Tinkerbell on her tiny head. “I’m not saying you have to get a tree. Unless of course you’re planning to hold one of your committee meetings at your place.”
“No.” Everett’s apartment was plain. Cast-off furniture and bare walls. As part of the agreement to turn state’s evidence against Lydia, he’d had to turn over all their possessions. He’d come here with only a used car he made payments on and a suitcase of clothes. “No meetings at my place.”
Kevin stared at Everett’s shirt and tie. “And maybe you should loosen up and wear a tacky holiday sweater. I know you have a sense of humor. You should show it.”
Everett stroked his designer tie, resisting the urge to try to loosen it. He was holding on to the few things the government had let him keep, his squeaky-clean image not being one of them. “Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me to date.”
“Great idea. It would prove you have a heart.” Kevin moved toward the door. “But Tinkerbell is evidence of that too. It’s clear that dog loves you. Why don’t you bring her to the office these next few weeks? Show this town what you’re really made of.”
What Everett was made of was slugs and snails and puppy-dog tails, as his grandmother used to say, reciting a child’s poem when he misbehaved. “You don’t really want me to bring Tink to work.” The noise and prancing would be a distraction.
