by Ginny Baird
“Sure!”
He did, and found the coasters. “Where do you want these?” They actually looked really good with the gazebo design on them. The magnets and the flags were nice, too.
She smiled but seemed preoccupied. “Can you just set those on the far end of the table until I finish with these T-shirts?”
He nodded and opened another box. “More T-shirts!”
“Um, yep.”
A few minutes later he ripped into another. “And more.” The next box revealed more of the same. “How many T-shirts did you order?” he asked, looking up.
She drew in a shaky breath. “Loads.”
“Wow,” he said, continuing to paw through them. “There have to be enough T-shirts here for everyone in town, including babies.” He chuckled and held one up in front of him. “But this one’s definitely not toddler size.”
“Nope!” Mary stared at the design on the front of the T-shirt and then tried to gauge its size. “Looks like a medium.” She seemed very tense, not like her normally upbeat self.
Evan flipped the shirt around and peered at the size tag inside its collar.
“Close,” he said. “It’s a large.”
Mary looked like a deer caught in somebody’s headlights. She wasn’t moving. Wasn’t talking. Only staring at the back of the shirt. He glanced down at it, then gazed at her, and her eyes watered. He’d didn’t know why she was so upset. He got things wrong like that all the time. “Hey,” he said gently. “Misjudging a size isn’t such a huge—”
“It has a typo.”
“What? Where?” He shook out the shirt and read what it said on the back: Christmas is Clark Creek.
“It’s supposed to say in, Evan. In! Christmas in Clark Creek.” She darted to a box and yanked out another shirt. “Maybe that one’s a fluke.”
It wasn’t.
“No,” she murmured under her breath. “No, no, no. No.” She had the T-shirt balled up in her fists and was squeezing the daylights out of it, holding it to her chest.
“Mary—”
It was like she didn’t hear him. She tore into another box and dug out more T-shirts. And then another box, and the ones he’d opened previously. All the T-shirts said the same thing: Christmas is Clark Creek.
“How could this happen?” She scanned the ceiling. “How, how, how. How?”
She was clearly panicking, going over the top. “Maybe people won’t notice?” Evan suggested. “Or maybe you can get a refund from the company, since this was their mistake.”
“Was it, though? I checked the design dozens of times! I didn’t even create a new one for the order, just clicked on what I’d used for the sample.” She gasped and raced for her satchel, extracting the sample items she’d shown Evan at the café. The T-shirt was among them, neatly rolled up. She unfurled it and shook it out. Her eyes widened. “Evan,” she said, evidently remembering he was there. “It has the typo.” She started to cry. Not a lot. Just a few random tears, and Evan broke a sweat.
“How many of these did you order, in total?”
He guessed he shouldn’t have asked that, because now the tears came harder, streaking down her face. Great move. He had to regroup. “Hang on,” he said, “it’s not so bad. It’s like I said, people probably won’t even notice! You showed that to me at the Whistle Stop.” When he thought about it, she hadn’t shown him the back, but he decided not to mention that part. “And…and, before that to my mom and the town council.”
“Yeah, but I showed them virtually—by computer. So maybe the details didn’t pop.”
They were sure popping now, because ever since it had been called to his attention, all Evan could see was that typo.
She sank down into a chair, dazed. “The third thing.”
“What do you mean ‘the third thing’? What’s that?”
“Bad things.” She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hands, pulling herself together. “They come in threes.”
“Not always.”
“They sure did this time.”
“Was losing your Santa Claus one of them?”
She nodded slowly.
“And the first was…?”
It all came out in a rush. “Oh Evan, I didn’t mean to. There was this power outage thing going on at the inn and the lights flickered, and then they went off. Then on, then off again a whole bunch of times.”
“When was this?”
“On Thursday, after I went to Hopedale. I was in the middle of putting in my order for souvenirs, and had already ordered the other things. Only the T-shirts were left.”
“Okay,” he said, not understanding.
“With the internet sketchy, I didn’t know the order had gone through the first time. In fact, I didn’t think it went through at all. So I tried again. And again.”
He saw where this was headed. “How many times?”
Her eyebrows knitted together. “Ten.”
“Oh wow, so there are…?” He looked around examining the boxes.
“A lot, a lot, a lot.”
“How many?”
“Three thousand.”
He sank down in a chair beside her. “That’s a lot of T-shirts.”
“I know…” Her voice cracked but she didn’t weep this time. Still, she looked on the verge.
“Do you think we can sell that many?”
She vehemently shook her head.
“How about at cost?”
She shrugged, and he could tell she was mortified.
“Mary,” he said kindly. “Things like that happen to people. Everybody makes mistakes. Maybe you can send some back?”
“I asked about that, but it doesn’t look likely.”
“Okay. Well.” He prepared himself for the damage. “How much did all these T-shirts cost?”
She stared at him and said nothing.
“Mary?”
She spoke so softly he scarcely heard her. “Thirty thousand dollars.”
Evan rubbed his ears. “Thirty thousand…dollars?”
“Plus taxes and shipping,” she wailed.
He stood and began pacing around the conference room in the limited space between boxes. That was a lot of money. A lot a lot of money. He’d seen her budget for the parade because she’d showed it to him in her proposal. Parade expenditures including printing and souvenirs were supposed to be capped at ten thousand dollars. For everything. It was a shoestring budget, but a small-town parade. Mary had given everybody her word she could make it work.
“I’m so sorry.” She looked more miserable than he’d ever seen her, and his heart ached for her. “But if some sort of miracle doesn’t happen tomorrow, it’s going to be like you predicted. This parade could bankrupt Clark Creek. And nobody’s going to want these now.” She gestured to the T-shirts. “Not when they’re imperfect.”
Evan thought hard. He’d been in dicey situations and had always found a way to maneuver himself out of them. He considered the printed matter on the T-shirts. The front showed the gazebo design like the smaller souvenir items did, except the T-shirts carried the slogan on back—in really huge letters. Perhaps they could turn it to their advantage.
“All right,” he said, still pacing. “Maybe we can spin it.”
“Spin it?”
“Yeah.” He glanced at her and she sat up a little straighter in her chair.
“How?”
“What if we act like the typo was intentional. In other words, not a typo at all?”
“I don’t get it.”
“We’re making a statement about Clark Creek, Mary. Christmas is Clark Creek, as in the spirit of Christmas is represented by this town.”
“Uh, I’m not sure who’s going to buy that.”
“Maybe lots of people.”
She swept her hair off her forehead. “Maybe?”
He observed the mess on the table, understanding there was more work to do. But he also understood that Mary needed a break. He reflected on his earlier idea about taking her horseback riding, thinki
ng the fresh air might do both of them good. If she really did bankrupt Clark Creek with this parade, he couldn’t be mad at her. She’d worked like crazy to make it a success, and he’d meant what he’d said about everybody making mistakes.
Still, if her parade effort failed, he would be mightily disappointed and very concerned about the town’s finances, which frankly couldn’t take one more hit. But thinking negatively about the outcome of the parade wasn’t going to do anybody any good. The die had been cast with Mary’s mistake, and things were what they were. The best way for him to proceed was by adopting some of her endless optimism and being supportive.
“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”
“What? Now?”
“You look like you could use a breather from all this. Honestly, so could I.”
“Where are we going?” Relief flooded her face, and he knew he’d made the right call.
“Nash keeps horses at his farm. I’ve got an open invitation to ride whenever I want to. What do you say?”
“Aren’t you on duty this afternoon?”
“Was on duty this morning. Technically took the afternoon off. Figured I’d be spending it with you.”
She looked happy for the first time all day, making Evan’s heavy heart feel lighter. “Well, in that case, I say yes.”
That was just what he’d been hoping she’d say.
He grinned, and she grinned back at him.
“I need to go home and change first,” he said. He glanced down at her spiky-heeled boots. “You might want to, too. Got any flatter shoes?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
It was midafternoon when they reached Nash’s farm, and still snowing. Mary saw that Santa’s Workshop had been erected to the right of Nash’s main gate. There was space beside it for the animal adoption tent, and a line of portable toilets had been installed in the area bordering the fairgrounds. She drew in a deep breath, feeling calmer about things. The parade was falling into place, and the whole town was getting ready. Maybe Evan was right. Maybe there was a way to spin her mistake on the T-shirts. The typo part. She still didn’t know how on earth she’d sell three thousand of them.
Evan called Nash at his clinic to let him know they were coming, and his brother was all for them taking a ride. He suggested they use a couple of the horses who weren’t working as reindeer during the parade, mentioning that Austin and Leroy had taken off early since they had a busy day tomorrow. Evan relayed all this to Mary after ending his call, but she’d been able to glean most of it from his end of the conversation.
“You were great to think of this,” she said. “I’ve always wanted to ride horses.”
“But never did?”
She shook her head. “Not that I didn’t want to. I begged my mom for lessons for years.”
“I can see where those might have been harder to come by in your situation.”
“Oh, we lived in places where my schoolmates went riding.”
“I’ll say it again,” he teased. “You’ve led a deprived life.”
“Ha ha, yeah.” She gazed out at the snowy landscape as they passed under the sign for Meadowmont Farm. “It’s beautiful here.”
He took his attention off the driveway a brief moment to study her. “Sure is.”
Mary’s face warmed because of the way he looked at her. Evan had a way of making her feel appreciated. Special. Beautiful, even. And she liked being all those things in Evan’s eyes. She was so glad to be getting away from parade planning for a while. The parade in Clark Creek had completely consumed all her energy these past two weeks, and she’d taken very few breaks. Her stomach fluttered when she realized that she’d taken some of those breaks with Evan. While decorating his house, and then ice skating, which had been romantic and fun.
He pulled up to the barn and parked his truck, then they walked over to the stables. “I’ll put you on one of the gentler horses.”
Since she’d never done this before, that sounded safest. “Where will we ride?”
“There’s a nice trail through the woods on the far side of the rear pasture.” He checked the sky. “We’ve got plenty of time before it gets dark.”
“Evan,” she said. “Thank you for doing this.”
“My pleasure,” he said, like he meant it.
They entered the stables and the horses inched forward in their stalls to see who was coming. “Afternoon, Nellie,” Evan said, stroking her on the nose. “Then he greeted the others in turn. Mary could tell he had an easy way with the animals. She could also sense that they liked him.
“We’ll be riding Jumper and Trixie today.”
“Jumper?” Mary’s heart thumped. She hoped that wasn’t her horse.
Evan read her look and chuckled. “Jumper’s only called that because he won’t jump. He’s a very docile horse. You’ll ride him. Trixie’s a bit more spirited, so I’ll take her.”
Mary watched him grab the tackle and saddle up the horses like he was an expert at it, which he was, compared to her. “Did you and your brothers ride a lot as boys?”
“Yeah.”
“Miss it?”
“Don’t have to. I’ve got this place right here.”
“Nice of Nash to let us ride.”
“He’s happy to have help exercising the horses. Gives Leroy and Austin a break.”
Mary grinned, thinking of the two farmhands. “I like Leroy and Austin. They’re sweet.”
“Right.” The corners of his mouth twitched. “Just don’t let them hear you call ’em that.”
Mary was glad she’d changed into jeans and her more casual coat. Evan wore jeans too, and looked rugged and handsome, just like some Western cowboy. He stared down at her brown leather boots.
“I see you’ve got a pair without heels on them.”
“These are my play boots,” she said lightly.
“It’s a good thing you packed them. Those spiky heeled ones might have been a problem in these stirrups.”
He led Jumper out of his stall and patted the saddle. “Ready to hop on?”
Mary stared up at the horse, who appeared way larger right up next to her. Chloe’s horse, Nellie, hadn’t stood this high when she’d met her face to face. “He’s a big fella, huh?”
Evan laughed. “Changing your mind?”
“Absolutely not.” She grabbed onto the saddle horn and, with some effort, wriggled her left boot into the left stirrup. Then she sort of hung there, overextended, with the toes of her right foot on the ground.
Evan noted her predicament. “Here,” he said gallantly. “Let me give you a boost.”
He centered his hands around her waist, then—whoa—she was up and over the saddle, plopping down on it.
Evan looked up at her. “All right?”
She nodded and he handed her the reins. She held them in one hand while still grasping the saddle horn with the other. “Then say giddy-up.”
“Hang on. People actually say that?”
He nodded encouragingly. “Just take it nice and slow till we’re outdoors. Once you’re comfortable, you can go a little faster.”
She stroked Jumper between his ears and they twitched. “Giddy-up, boy,” she whispered, afraid of sounding too mean.
Evan mounted Trixie. “You might have to tell him a little louder and give him a nudge with your heels.”
Mary nodded. She had this. It was just like she’d seen in the movies. She lifted the reins and commanded more firmly, “Giddy-up, Jumper!” She gave him two swift kicks with her heels, and he bolted.
“Wha—ahhh! Jumper, no!” She dug in her heels, hanging on for dear life, and Jumper went faster. Breaking from a trot into a canter. “Evan—help!”
Evan galloped up beside her on Trixie and leaned over, latching onto her reins as they raced along in tandem, the white landscape around them becoming a blur.
He tugged on her reins, but she couldn’t let go. They were trapped between her tightly clenched gloves and the saddle horn.
“You’ve got to release the reins, Mary.”
“What? No. I’ll fa…fall!”
She kept bobbing up and down, up and down, in the saddle and—ow—her bum was starting to hurt. Her legs were throbbing, too, from their viselike grip on the horse’s middle. Wait. Oh no. “Evan,” she stammered, growing woozy. “My head feels really light.”
“Easy.” Evan yanked at the reins again with a steady downward tug. “Just keep hanging onto that saddle horn,” he instructed.
Like she was about to let go of it. Sure.
Once he had Jumper’s reins in hand, he pulled back on them at the same time he tugged on Trixie’s. “Whoa, boy! Whoa,” he said, bringing Jumper under control. He drew Trixie to a halt. Jumper stopped too, and snorted.
Mary’s breath came in fits and starts, but at least she was still on Jumper and not on the ground. She stared down at it, deciding it looked very hard and cold, a lot like that skating rink.
“I think that’s more excitement than this old boy has had in years,” Evan told her.
Mary’s heart pounded. “I thought you said he didn’t jump?”
“He doesn’t.”
“He sure knows how to run.”
Evan peered into her eyes. “Maybe we should head back.”
“Already?”
He viewed her doubtfully. “You want to keep going?”
She bit her bottom lip. She’d always wanted to ride, but not exactly like that.
“I have a better idea,” he said, turning both horses around. Mary still hung onto the saddle horn, but her posture had eased. With Evan leading her horse, there was far less of a chance of Jumper making another break for it. “How about you ride on Trixie with me?”
“You mean like with you doing all the work, and me just along for the ride?”
His eyes danced. “That’s the general idea.”
“Then I’m all for it,” she said.
A short time later, Jumper had been returned to his stall and his saddle removed.
Evan helped hoist Mary onto Trixie. She asked him, “Should I scoot back?”
“No, forward.” He grinned and her pulse skittered. “You’ll get a better view.”
She hadn’t expected to be riding in front, but when Evan settled himself in and surrounded her with his arms, she was glad that she was. He made her feel safe and protected. This time, Mary had no fears that she’d fall off. They trotted out of the stable and toward the rear pasture. Snow drifted lightly, adding to the magical ambiance of the countryside.
