On Christmas Avenue

by Ginny Baird

  “Great news!” she said. “We’ve got our first Santa’s Circle level donor.”

  “That would be…”

  “The top category of donor.” Then she added in low tones, “Ten thousand dollars.”

  Evan nearly swallowed his tongue. That was way more than he’d expected from any single contributor. “Which business is it?”

  “Not a business. A business owner. Very wealthy gentleman over in Hopedale. He developed the Hopedale Valley Springs Ski Resort.” She grinned, displaying those hard-to-ignore dimples again, and it was easy to see how she’d secured so many donations. Mary Ward was as charming as the day was long.

  Evan had heard of the benefactor: an older man, reputed to be a billionaire. “Wow. Really generous of him.” Evan’s order came up and the server set it on the counter. “Can I get you something?” he asked Mary, preparing to pay.

  “No, thanks. I’ll get it myself.” She nodded at the café worker, requesting a peppermint mocha, and Evan offered to get them a table. He selected the same one near the window where they’d sat the day before.

  When she joined him, she said, “The Singletons are making a generous contribution too. I saw one of Sam’s commercials on the TV in the den at the inn.” She heaved a sigh. “It was so romantic.”

  Evan shifted in his seat, weirdly uncomfortable at the thoughts of romance and engagements around Mary. He’d seen the commercials for Singleton’s Jewelers, and they always showcased some sort of proposal involving one of the store’s engagement rings.

  “A couple was riding in a chair lift,” she went on. “At Hopedale Valley Springs Ski Resort. And the guy got up his nerve to pop the—”

  “Yes. Yes, I’ve seen it.”

  “You don’t seem too impressed.”

  “Sure, I am,” he said. “It’s just not my thing.”

  “Skiing, or marriage proposals?”

  He was quiet a moment, pushing the painful memory aside. If Cathy had waited for him during his deployment like she’d promised she would, he’d have become engaged once himself.

  “Neither one,” he said, sipping from his coffee.

  She blanched, clearly realizing she’d made a misstep. “Evan, I’m sorry if I said something I shouldn’t—”

  “You didn’t.” He didn’t want her pity, or anybody else’s. Cathy was a long time ago, and he was over her.

  He preferred to focus on other things. Like protecting the budgetary interests of his town.

  “Mary, I think it’s great about the sponsors you’re bringing in, but we need to be reasonable here and start setting some limits before this parade runs away from us.”

  “Limits?” She unbuttoned her coat and shrugged out of it. Under it, she wore a dark green sweater over a starched white collar. She had on dark slacks too, and those totally impractical boots. “Can’t you see? The sky could be the limit with all the support we’re getting.”

  “Yeah, but there’s the danger of outspending that support. You can’t tell me you haven’t made cash outlays already. For printing…advertising. And who knows what else.”

  Her cheeks colored. “We may have had to overextend some resources initially, on credit, but we’ll make any expenditures back in spades.”

  “Then there are trash considerations.”

  She gaped at him. “Trash?”

  “We have the Public Works Department to think of, and sanitation. The streets will be a wreck after such a big event.”

  She pressed her lips together and sat perfectly still. After a beat, she said, “We’ve been sitting here ten minutes and you haven’t said one positive thing.” She didn’t sound angry about it—more like he’d hurt her feelings. Which he hadn’t meant to do.

  “You haven’t given me any credit,” she said. “Not one little bit, and I’ve accomplished so much in less than a week. I barely had any time at all in Richmond to come up with a proposal, but I did. I’ve been in Clark Creek for three days. Three days, Evan. And just look at what’s happened. People are lining up. Happy to help out with the parade, and do you want to know why? It’s because they love this town, I’m sure as much as you do. Only they’re showing it differently.”

  Evan stared at her, dumbfounded. “So it’s credit you want?” Mary didn’t strike him as the sort of woman who’d need this sort of reassurance. Then again, she was human.

  “A little bit of acknowledgement would be good.”

  Evan felt like a jerk. Of course he should have acknowledged her accomplishments, way before now. That didn’t negate the fact that the parade still faced problems, though.

  “Hey, look, I’m sorry. I agree that you’ve made progress, amazing progress, in such a short time. Still, as the sheriff, it’s my duty to acknowledge the challenges that a large Christmas parade will present to this town. Christmas Eve is just over a week away, and we still haven’t solved—”

  She groaned like she hadn’t been able to stop herself. “Evan,” she said, this time pleading. “I could honestly use your help, and not your resistance.”

  “I thought I was helping by…never mind.” He hung his head, realizing that whatever he’d thought, he’d gotten it wrong. He sat silent a moment, thinking. Then he finally looked up. “All right,” he said calmly. “What would you like me to do?”

  “Help me plan the parade route, for starters.”

  At last. A task he was happy to tackle, because it would give him a chance to keep things contained. If they could limit the parade to one or two streets, that would be better than having mountains of floats meander all over town. Privately, he conceded this would also give him more time to spend around Mary, which he was itching to do. Assuming he could keep from disappointing her again. He hadn’t enjoyed how that felt at all, and he meant to do better. “Do you have any ideas?”

  “Yes.” She took a town map from her satchel and unfolded it. “I’d like to start at the courthouse and end at the fairgrounds by Nash’s farm.”

  Evan examined the yellow line she’d drawn with a highlighter, tracing Main Street from one end to the next. That was much more favorable than he’d imagined. “I like the fact that the route’s restricted to one street,” he admitted, admiring her for making this suggestion.

  Her eyebrows rose, like she couldn’t believe he’d actually complimented her. “I thought that would make things more streamlined.”

  “Agreed.”

  She gave him a suspicious look. “So, you can be agreeable.”

  “I’m not disagreeable, generally. Just cautious.”

  “Hmm.”

  “And caution is a wise thing to exercise in coordinating a big event.”

  “I agree.”

  “There you have it!” he said. “You can be agreeable too.”

  “Ha ha.” She drummed her fingers on the table, thinking. “Yes, I can be agreeable. And also…” Her eyes glimmered impishly. “I have a really fun idea.”

  Uh-oh. She was having another inspiration. One that would lead to more outlays of cash. “What is it?”

  “Well. On Christmas Eve, I was thinking we could convert Main Street…into Christmas Avenue.”

  Her voice rose in a lilting squeal on that last part and Evan’s head spun. What in the world was she talking about?

  She reached into her bag and pulled out a red and white street sign—sure enough, it said Christmas Avenue. “It’s magnetic,” she said, evidently pleased with herself. “Isn’t it fantastic? I’ve ordered one for every street corner along the route. I’ll point them out when we walk it.”

  “So, that fits over the signs saying Main Street?”

  “Yes, but only temporarily. Since those signs are metal, these overlays will stick. When we remove them, they’ll leave no marks and do no damage.”

  Christmas Avenue. Evan sighed. What would she think of next?

  “We’re also going to have signs pointing to the North Pole, so when Santa takes off from the courthouse square, it will look like he’s headed that way.”

  Evan c
ouldn’t imagine what would be at the so-called North Pole. Besides those porta-potties.

  “Then, when Santa reaches Nash’s farm, he’ll greet his reindeer!”

  Reindeer?

  She nodded at his blank expression. “Nash has volunteered to suit up a team of his horses with fake antlers and such, and Leroy and Austin have offered to dress up as elves.”

  Now Evan had heard everything. Mary must have done some ultra-sweet talking to get those two to go along with her plan. “You’re kidding.”

  She sat back in her chair. “Nope.”

  “Who’s playing Santa?”

  “Your dad.”

  “Of course.”

  “And Marshall’s opening up his inn as a cider and hot chocolate stop along the route, since the Clark Creek B&B is right around the corner from Main Street. People wanting a breather from the crowds can pop over to his place for refreshments. Andrea and Jeremy will have a table on the front porch. They’ll be selling gingerbread and other goodies, too. Drinks and snacks will only be a dollar, with the majority of proceeds going toward the parade.”

  Evan watched her, gobsmacked. He could barely keep up.

  “This parade’s going to be amazing, Evan. Totally wonderful. You’ll see.”

  “What about those tickets you mentioned?”

  “Designated volunteers will sell them from the gazebo. Tickets won’t be mandatory, so there will be no cordoning off any areas or anything like that. Their purchase will only be encouraged for those wanting to support the parade—and Clark Creek. Apart from receiving a ticket to the “Parade on Christmas Avenue,” anyone who pays the five-dollar voluntary ticket fee will receive their choice of souvenir.”

  She pulled a few more items from her bag: a cork drink coaster, a refrigerator magnet, and a small flag. They all depicted the gazebo decorated to the hilt for the holidays, and they were stamped with the words Christmas in Clark Creek. “These each cost less than a dollar to produce, so the town will be making a huge profit per ticket, even after allocating the prorated payments to parade participant groups. They’ll all stand to benefit, too.”

  She handed Evan a drink coaster and he turned it over to study its underside. It appeared functional enough. The magnet could come in handy, too. And, okay, the flag could make a nice decoration for someone to stick in their pen holder at work, for example. Or maybe a child could wave one during the parade. He saw a bunch of kiddos waving tiny flags in his mind’s eye…and then leaving them all behind after dropping them on the sidewalks.

  It wasn’t his fault that he could always see the flip side. That’s what he’d been trained to do, both as a sheriff and in the Army beforehand. He was paid to be analytical, examine an equation from every angle. And, when there were pitfalls, it was his obligation to point them out. Only no amount of reasoning seemed to appeal to Mary. She was endlessly focused on the bright side. Exactly like she was now, getting all stoked up on her parade ideas.

  “We’ll also be selling these,” she said with a contagious grin.

  He pursed his lips to avoid smiling along with her. He was tough and used to holding his ground. He’d never been a guy who was easily swayed. But when Mary’s big brown eyes shone with excitement, it was hard not to admire the time and energy she’d put into her efforts and get swept up in her enthusiasm. That’s probably what had happened to his brothers. And to Leroy. And Austin. Dressing up as elves? Unbelievable.

  She took a final item from her satchel and unfolded it: a long-sleeved T-shirt with the same gazebo design. “Twenty dollars! What do you think? Too much? Hmm. Maybe fifteen?”

  “When did you do all this?”

  “Last Friday in Richmond. I got these samples by rush order so I could present them to the town council for their approval. They arrived at the inn yesterday and I did an emergency Zoom with everyone to fill them in.”

  Evan didn’t have to ask. He was sure the council members had loved the souvenirs, especially his mom.

  “I’ll place the bulk orders for everything after I have a better sense of parade numbers,” she continued. “With expedited delivery, they’ll arrive a day or two before the parade.”

  Evan knew what “expedited delivery” meant. More money. But he decided not to comment on that aspect. Instead, he asked a question. “How did you make the gazebo look decorated in the design?” To his knowledge, that hadn’t been done yet.

  She shared a sunny grin. “I improvised and used the online design program from the giftware manufacturer.”

  He kept his expression as neutral as possible, deciding to reserve judgment until he saw what she came up with next. “It seems you’ve thought of everything.”

  “Almost.” She finished up her peppermint mocha and slipped back into her coat. “We need to talk about parking and that traffic control you keep mentioning. I think I’ve worked out the parking part with the mayor. We can talk about traffic along the way. Come on.”

  Evan downed the last bit of his coffee and zipped up his uniform jacket. “Where are we headed?” he asked, putting on his hat, because the snow outdoors had started up again.

  “To take a stroll down Christmas Avenue.”

  She shot him a winning smile and he was taken in. Mary was so unfailingly positive. She didn’t even let his reasonable objections get her down. Instead of tossing in the towel when he cited complications, she always came back armed with her solutions.

  They still had complications to address. Parking, traffic, trash, and lodging were among them. But against his better judgment, Evan was starting to wonder if Mary could really pull this parade fundraiser off.

  Evan held open the door for Mary to exit the café ahead of him. It was nice, she thought, that he had a gentlemanly side. It helped offset his persistent negativity. It bugged her that all Evan did was point out problems with the parade. While she didn’t need his approval, it would be nice to have it.

  He could have at least pretended to be impressed by her cool souvenirs or her creative idea about converting Main Street into Christmas Avenue. At least he was pleased with her proposed parade route, so that was something. She had a feeling that, if she and Evan could only put their heads together instead of being at odds with each other, they could accomplish so much more.

  Heavy snow pelted them from above as they stepped onto the sidewalk. The Whistle Stop Café stood at the end of Main Street where it met Three-Notched Pass across from Nash’s farm. An old set of railroad tracks ran behind it, but Mary’s research had told her they hadn’t been used in years. She intended to take Evan to the fairgrounds, where parade patrons would park their vehicles, and show him the spot for Santa’s workshop, before walking the parade route in reverse order, ending at the gazebo in the town square.

  That would be convenient for him, since they’d wind up close to his office, and it wasn’t honestly much of a walk for her to go back for her SUV at Marshall’s inn. After learning how short distances were in Clark Creek, Mary realized she’d be better off walking most places. Unless she had supplies or decorations to lug with her, of course.

  The storm had picked up and strong winds raged. It was far too gusty for her umbrella, so she tugged down her hat while Evan hung onto his. Then—wham—a big white ball slammed into Evan’s uniform jacket sleeve and he halted.

  “Gotcha, Sheriff Clark!” a young boy called. Mary spied a kid, about ten or eleven, standing by the corner with a friend, who held another snowball in his hands. Evan glared in their direction and the boys darted behind a street planter, giggling as they went.

  Before he could do or say anything, another frozen orb collided with her shoulder. It didn’t really hurt. More like surprised her. “Oh!” she cried laughing. “Hey!”

  “Boys!” Evan hollered when they ducked back behind the planter. “You cut that out.” They scooted around the corner, but Mary could hear them whispering, so they hadn’t gone far.

  “Oh yeah?” Mary wasn’t sure what he would do. The kids were watching him too, stealing peeks
in his direction when Evan wasn’t looking.

  Then he stunned her by bending down and sweeping a bunch of snow into his hands. There was a wicked gleam in his eyes that looked almost—playful. He winked at Mary and little tingles raced down her spine.

  Oh no. What was that about?

  “Let’s see how they like having me join in the game,” he said in a husky whisper. Next, he called around the corner. “Boys, come out here a second. I’d like to have a word.”

  There was no movement for a moment as more snowflakes pounded the pavement and covered their coats. Then, slowly, the first of the two boys emerged.

  “We’re sorry,” he said. “We’re not in any kind of trouble?”

  “Nope. Not yet…” Evan held two fully formed snowballs behind his back, one in each hand, and Mary had an inkling what he intended to do. “Where’s your brother?”

  Mary hadn’t realized that Evan knew them, but of course he must know everyone in this small town.

  The first kid motioned to another, who sheepishly appeared, and Mary now noted the second child looked a little younger than the first.

  “Setting a bad example for Spencer, are you, Joe?” he asked the first kid, whose shoulders sagged.

  “We were just having a little fun.”

  “Well, the next time you decide pick a snowball fight,” Evan said. “You need to play by the rules of engagement.”

  “Engagement?” Spencer asked. “What’s that?”

  “It’s like when somebody’s going to get married,” Joe said.

  Evan cleared his throat. “That’s not exactly what I meant.”

  Mary smiled. “I think the sheriff is saying you need to ask people if they want to play before pelting them full-throttle.”

  “Ohhh,” the children said together.

  “Well?” Evan waited, but they were clearly confused. “Aren’t you going to ask me?”

  The younger boy grinned. “Are you serious, Sheriff Clark?”

  “I think he’s serious,” Joe whispered in his ear. “He’s got something behind his back.”

  The two kids scooped fresh snow into their gloves and grinned excitedly. “Okay!” the bigger one said. “You’re on.”