Christmas Clash

by Dana Volney

  “Good morning, Misty,” he said, thankful she showed up to do the interview after he’d cut their date short. Misty’s appearance had been an uncomfortable question mark in his mind.

  She extended her hand and he shook it. Professional. Good. Her hands were hard, bony, and cold. “We’d like to talk with you on camera.” She positioned herself with the music stage and bouncy castle behind her. “Burt will grab some B-roll, too. Is there anyone else you’d like to have in the interview?”

  “Nope. It’ll be just me again. I’m the official spokesperson.”

  Burt set up a stand for his camera and twisted cords in place. Misty kept her semi-professional streak intact by finding reasons to put her hands on him only twice as she asked him questions about what people could expect when they arrived, how long it would last, and what he wanted to say about their cause. His answers remained the same as when he went on the morning show. She jotted notes in a small black notepad that matched her gloves.

  “Want to grab another drink tonight? My place?”

  He swallowed and search for the right words. The woman doesn’t give up. I’ll give her credit for that.

  “I’m sorry, Misty. I can’t.”

  He looked over her shoulder and spotted Candace painting a little girl’s cheek in front of Kaye’s yoga studio. Candace nodded at the happy youngster and her new artwork. Suddenly, he was calm and content. He forced himself to pay attention to the pretty woman in front of him.

  “I ...” What are the right words? “I’m sort of seeing someone else.” Liar. He thought he might want to date someone else who was a specific woman.

  “Okay.”

  She shrugged and he tried not to be hurt that she dismissed him so easily. Then she stepped closer and whispered into his ear, “Call me when sort of doesn’t work out.” She pivoted and walked toward Burt, who had parts and pieces of equipment scattered in a circle around him.

  I’ll never understand women. Then a harrowing thought struck him—he didn’t want to understand all women. Only one.

  • • •

  Candace was drawing a butterfly in glittery crayon on a little girl’s face when she saw the reporter step up and kiss Luke on the cheek. Startled, she drew an unwanted line on the child’s cheek. Shoot. She used her thumb to smug the mishap away.

  A twinge of jealousy that she was getting way too used to feeling surfaced before she could gather her wits and shoo the green away. You’re being silly. They’d shared one itty-bitty kiss and it hadn’t meant anything—to either of them. She didn’t care who Luke dated. He was a big boy. He could do whatever he wanted, and so could she. I need to call James for that dinner. Her stomach calmed down. Get a grip on your life, girl.

  “You should go over there,” Mabel prodded, waving toward the interview cameras. “Make sure the right message is getting told.”

  “He knows what to say.” Candace didn’t make eye contact with Mabel. Even though she controlled her facial expressions, her eyes might betray her.

  “Are you sure? You’ve done such a good job of organizing all of this. I’d hate to see it go down the drain because he can’t form a sentence around that tart.”

  “Mabel!” Candace giggled before she could stop herself.

  “I’m just saying. She’s a looker and we don’t want him getting tongue tied.”

  Tongue tied? Is she that pretty?

  “All right, Mabel. If you insist.”

  Candace finished the butterfly with silver highlights, then hurried over to where the blonde and her cameraman were now set up. They had positioned Luke so the shot would look out over the bustling street of people. Good choice. She kept her pace casual and wrapped her arms around herself as she sidled up to Luke.

  “Hi.” She outstretched her hand to the reporter. Be professional. Your family is sort of her employer she reminded herself over and over. “I’m Candace. Nice to meet you.”

  “Misty. Pleasure, I’m sure.” Misty shook her hand and returned to her cameraman, barely giving Candace the time of day.

  Huh. Ain’t that somethin’. Candace turned her attention back to Luke. He looked a little nervous standing there all cute. His hands were in his pockets and his feet shoulder width apart.

  “How ya feeling?”

  “I got it. You didn’t need to check up on me.”

  “I’m not checking up on you. I just had a break and saw them setting up and thought I’d pop over,” she lied. “That’s all.”

  “I don’t know why you can’t just call in favors since you own the thing.”

  “I don’t own it,” Candace hushed her voice. Geez, all she needed was the wrong person to overhear this conversation.

  “You own what?” Misty’s attention focused solely on Candace.

  Too late.

  “Noth—” Candace started to say before Luke cut her off.

  “This is Candace Ellison.”

  Misty raised her eyebrows in shock and morphed her surprise face into a welcoming one. Phony.

  “Ms. Ellison. Hello.” Misty gave Candace a proper welcoming—finally.

  She hated when people were nice just because of her last name. There was something almost offensive about the change in attitude. She wasn’t good enough for the high and mighty reporter before.

  The reporter’s glance flickered over to Luke. Of course it did. He was damn good looking. What wasn’t to like?

  “Are you involved in all this?” Misty asked as she waved her gloved hand in a circle pointing behind her to the street and people milling around.

  Candace nodded.

  “Oh.”

  The cameraman put the camera on his shoulder and Candace watched for a green light. She wouldn’t be joining Luke in the interview.

  “You should’ve told the station about this sooner. We could’ve pushed the story more.”

  “Your coverage has been good and we appreciate it. Informing the public helps immensely.”

  “It’s what we strive to accomplish.”

  Didn’t she just say she would have covered the story more if she’d known I was involved? The kiss-ass across from her couldn’t keep her eyes off Luke.

  Before she thought about it, Candace looped her arm in Luke’s and smiled. His hands were still in his pockets and he didn’t move. She clasped her fingers together and leaned in on one leg closer to him. He smelled like sugar and spice and everything nice. Damn, she could just lick him up for dessert. Candace kept her eyes focused on Misty and saw the minute grimace cross her face before she composed herself.

  “Are you sure you want us to cover this event?” Misty asked. “We will be unbiased.”

  “We understand. Thank you for coming, Misty. The community needs to know what is happening.” Candace loosened herself from Luke, squeezed his arm once before letting go, and stepped to the side.

  Luke handled himself perfectly when the camera started rolling. All was well—until Misty decided to include Candace in the interview. Not good.

  “Ms. Ellison.” Misty and the cameraman swung their attention to her.

  She uncrossed her arms and stood up straight.

  Candace tried for a smile. She nervously bit into the side of her cheek. She had no idea what the reporter would ask. Luke had covered the important bits. There was nothing left to say.

  Something flickered in Misty’s eyes—determination or malice, Candace wasn’t sure which. Neither choice was appealing with a camera facing Candace and Misty in control.

  “How do you feel about the city council attacking your loved ones?” The reporter’s cuteness had fled and all that remained looked vicious.

  “Excuse me?” Candace could feel her face scrunch up, but she couldn’t stop her unbecoming look before the camera.

  “Your boyfriend’s business, The Pub, and the surrounding businesses being targeted by the city council? That must upset you.”

  Could she take back her arm tangle? Touché, Misty.

  “I … yeah, it is upsetting to clash over such an imp
ortant topic so close to Christmas. I own the flower shop.” Candace weakly pointed with an upturned finger over Misty’s shoulder toward her building.

  “So the city council is voting to tear down your building as well, correct?”

  “The entire block. There are seven businesses in total that will be affected when the council could easily pick land that is undeveloped.”

  “Do you feel you were justified in threatening an elected city council member?”

  Candace’s mind raced and she worked to focus on the turn the interview had just taken. She needed to get out of Misty’s crosshairs. The reporter clearly had more than one of these aggressive questions waiting to be asked. “I did not threaten anyone. The important thing to note is that—”

  “What do you have on Mr. Dean?”

  “Our downtown is bustling and there is plenty of other land not in use that would make great places for—”

  “So, you don’t have any skeletons on Jeffrey Dean?”

  She sucked in a curt breath. Why was Misty asking her questions if she wasn’t even going to let her finish? She made herself smile before answering politely and quickly. “That’s merely a figure of speech.”

  “Did you provoke this fight?”

  “I did not.”

  “If you are defeated, will you waste taxpayer money fighting the decision?”

  “I hope we win, and we will if the community contacts their city council representative and tells them how upsetting it is to displace seven business owners who have been a part of the Casper community collectively for well over a century.”

  Misty turned into the camera, cutting Luke and Candace out of the frame. Candace couldn’t make out what she was saying over the pounding in her own head. What just happened? Her last name, saying she’s dating Luke, the attacks about her blasted city council encounter. Wrong. All wrong for her side of the fight.

  “And … we’re clear.” Misty handed her microphone to the balding cameraman.

  “You are going to cut that, right? I’m not sure that was the proper way to promote our event. And my name …” Candace’s voice trailed off. She took a deep breath. It’s okay. They can chop the footage.

  “No. We were live.”

  “Live?” Candace shrieked. Luke was staring at her and for once it didn’t calm her down. “Why did you ask those questions?” She turned her irritated gaze back to Misty, who looked pretty proud of herself.

  “So that the public knows exactly who is affected. Didn’t you read the paper today?”

  “Paper?”

  “There’s a reporter who covers the council meetings. You should pick one up.”

  Candace took a step toward the woman. She didn’t know what she was going to do, but it was going to involve some close talking. She felt Luke’s large hand on her waist, pulling her back.

  “Honey. It’s okay.” Luke braced her tightly against the side of his body and she tried not to enjoy his touch. “You held your own. There’s nothing to get upset about.”

  Candace said nothing. She squinted at the reporter and decided to hold her tongue. The feeling of Luke hugging her to him filled her senses and didn’t leave a lot of room for anger. Warmth started under Luke’s hand and spread throughout her like a tornado. She didn’t want to move. This reporter could pretty much say or do anything now and she wouldn’t leave Luke’s grip.

  “This should run on both of the evening spots, too.” The reporter said and didn’t look up as she fiddled with her smartphone.

  Excellent. I’ll be skipping all forms of the news for a while.

  They stood not moving, and in a flash the team from Channel Five disappeared. You can’t stand here forever, Candace. She blinked a long blink and moved from his side.

  “This is a mess,” she said.

  “Of your doing.”

  She wanted to stomp her foot. This wasn’t her fault. None of it. Okay, maybe a tiny bit. Whatever. How did she always find herself in these spots? She wished she hadn’t become so possessive of Luke when the reporter was eyeing him.

  She searched Luke’s eyes. She needed help with this. She needed to know she didn’t just tank everyone’s efforts.

  “I won’t say I told you so, but let’s remember this next time you think your bulldozing way is the best way.”

  “Okay,” she whispered, still stunned by the last fifteen minutes of her life.

  He started to smile and gathered her in his arms and hugged her tightly to his broad chest. “We got our message across today. That’s the main goal here.”

  She didn’t want to, but she sank into him. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and took in the sensation of being pressed up against him. The way he encircled her in his strong arms—he felt so good and so right. She could feel his chest rise and fall and swore she could almost hear his heartbeat pick up speed. This is nice. She wasn’t exactly sure why he held her. To comfort her? Did she look like she needed this much comforting? Well, she did. She didn’t want his embrace to end. Not ever.

  “I know you think this was catastrophic, but it wasn’t. I mean, we could’ve done without your city council nest kicking, but optimistically I’m going to assume that only makes people pay attention to the story. We may have a decent shot at winning.”

  She nestled slightly more into his chest. If he was lying, she didn’t want to see his face. She needed to believe his words.

  “You have done your best. I know. So do they.” He nodded his head toward the other side of the street, then kissed her forehead gently. “It’s not your fault about the convention center project site choice and the rest of them will get over it, too.”

  Why was she being so weak right now? And why was Luke being so nice? He should be furious. She needed to buck up. This was no time to fall apart and this wasn’t the person to cry in front of. She could be weak at home when no one else was around—that’s when she usually broke down, where she felt most comfortable. Still, here in Luke’s arms, in the middle of a crowded street, she felt a calming peace. How odd.

  “I don’t think it’s going to be good enough.”

  “It will be.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “Let’s see how it plays out before claiming defeat.”

  She clenched her eyes tighter. She hated being upset in front of him. No, she wasn’t blubbering like a fool, but she didn’t need to be. He could tell she’d been deeply affected by the council situation, and maybe even him. She stayed in his arms for a few more breaths before backing up. The ends of her lips curved up when she saw his concerned expression, and then she headed to her flower shop. She needed to be alone before braving more people to tell them of their predicament.

  On her way to her pity party of one she spotted Pamela from the historical society. She’d contacted Pamela about having the area declared an historical site when she first heard weeks ago the city council was seriously considering her city block. Pamela had dashed that hope. The buildings were younger than the historical society’s qualifications and nothing of “major and memorable significance” had happened in their city block or to any of their buildings.

  “Candace, dear, nice to see you. This is a lovely event you’re hosting.” The seventy-something woman wore a black track suit and sported a perfectly curled short hairdo.

  “Thank you, Pamela. It wasn’t just me, though. All of us came together to do our part.”

  “I’m so sorry you have to go through this. I wish there was something I could do.”

  “Me, too.” She didn’t care that the sun would set early. This would be the longest day of her life. Noon hadn’t come yet and already she felt like she was going on hour twelve.

  “I checked again, to make absolutely sure there was nothing we could do about the classification.”

  “And?” Her brows shot up in hope.

  “There isn’t. I thought those underground tunnels that ran throughout downtown Casper might extend this far, but they don’t. It seems they are contained to the couple o
f square blocks in the main downtown.”

  “Oh.” Hope followed by a letdown. Awesome. “Why were those tunnels built again?”

  “The red light district, dear. Money and sex. Then there was Prohibition—we also liked our booze. Those are the mischievous things of our past we have to deal with, aren’t they?”

  Candace sighed “I suppose so.”

  “In any event, all of the tunnels have been mapped and recorded. They end a block up.”

  “Thanks for checking. Enjoy the rest of your day. Make sure you stop at each business. They each have something different.”

  Candace turned to rush into her shop and digest the grim information and bumped into someone.

  “Excuse me,” she said.

  “Candace.” Her brother’s familiar voice caused her to smile.

  “Hey, Blake.” She hugged her brother and his wife. “Halle. Thanks for coming down.”

  “Looks like you have quite a crowd,” Halle said, interlocking her fingers with Blake’s.

  Be positive. You’re still in the game. “I have high hopes for today.” She glanced around at the street that was filling up quickly. “I think we put together a fun day. Let’s hope it pays off.”

  “It will,” he said. “I’m sure you’ve thought of everything. Think Jeffrey Dean will show up?”

  Candace let out a mocking laugh. “I doubt it. If he were going to show up, it would’ve been when the cameras were around and they just left. Halle, you look wonderful.”

  “Thanks. We need to go out to lunch again. I haven’t seen you in a while. How’s Kiss from a Rose?”

  “Oh, I love it. It’s still one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.”

  “Good. Owning a business can be rough,” she said as she swiped her blond hair behind one ear.

  “Don’t we know it.”

  “I see Luke. I’m going to go say hi.” Blake kissed Halle and nodded to Candace before he made his way over to the grill.

  “Is Luke the one flipping the hamburgers?” Halle asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Cute.”

  The weather held in the brisk fifties and a beautiful blue sky shown above them, so red cheeks weren’t uncommon in the crowd. But Candace felt hers heat and looked away.