'Tis the Season for Love: A Charity Box Set

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'Tis the Season for Love: A Charity Box Set Page 84

by Maggie Dallen


  My parents walked over with Jill. “How are you doing?” I asked Mom, taking her by the elbow.

  “Wonderful.” Her blink stalled a second longer than usual. Beyond knowing it took a bigger effort for her to be here tonight, she looked the same as always. “Jill says you’ve been a wonderful help.”

  We’d already had this conversation, so she was saying it for Jill’s benefit. “I helped where I could.”

  “The room looks great.” My dad barely took his eyes off Mom. I used to get annoyed by them making lovey-dovey faces at each other. He was there for her every second she needed, and the seconds she said she didn’t need him. Leaving me to do more at the print shop. This was going to be hard to share the news about the interview. Even if I didn’t get the job in Madison, they deserved to know I was looking.

  Mom pointedly looked my way. “Ed Farinski is retiring.”

  I nodded back. All night I’d been nodding in conversations like this.

  “Leaving an opening in administration.” Jill’s decorated Santa sweater demanded attention. It was like a homing beacon I couldn’t look away from. “The requirement is a bachelor’s in a business field and experience with city events.”

  I nodded some more. “Cool.”

  Mom’s smile shifted. “A great opening for someone familiar with Crystal Cove who might be looking for a new opportunity.”

  They were all three watching for my reaction. “Me? Working for the mayor’s office? Sounds like a conflict of interest.” Never mind the conflict. I had zero interest working in the mayor’s office.

  Mom smiled at a guest walking past. “You’d have to apply for the job, of course. Jill and the other staff would handle the interview.”

  “You’ve been a huge help, Nick,” Jill said. The glittering Santa on her sweater danced in agreement.

  Someone had to be putting her up to this. “I’d say you’re welcome, but you know I botched the planning. If it hadn’t been for Megan, we wouldn’t have even half of these decorations.”

  “Who is Megan?” Mom asked.

  Jill responded with a careful smile. “Nick’s friend, right?” She watched for my reaction.

  Mom perked up. “I’ve been out of the loop. Is your friend here tonight?”

  “Unfortunately, no. She’s with her family and—” I stopped mid-sentence. Flies had open access to buzz into my mouth. Across the room, Megan stood by the front entrance in a red dress. She wore some kind of black cape with fur along the edges.

  “Oh, I see,” I heard Mom say as I brushed past her. “Megan.”

  I shifted around guests blocking my path and put myself in front of Megan. “You came.” I tried limiting the wattage on my geeked state, but geek-beams shone bright like a disco light. Or, whatever. I was still thinking about dancing with Megan. How she fell into my arms. I loved every second of it.

  She smiled and tugged at her cape. “Yeah. I’m not here alone though—”

  “Nick.”

  Arms circled me and a hand clapped against my back. Diane Kreuger in for the big hug and Stu adding his method of affection. Grin and bear it, dude. “Thanks for coming out.”

  Megan half-covered her face with her hand. “Mom, lay off. You’re scaring him.”

  Derek shook my hand. “Nick, good to see you again.”

  “Well, hello, Stu.” Behind me, my own mother inserted herself into our space.

  We were really doing this. Parents meeting my girl—no, not my girlfriend. “Mom, this is Megan. She’s new to Stu Kreuger’s family.”

  “Oh, how wonderful.”

  All the parents, including my dad now, exchanged greetings. My attention landed on Megan again and I shot her a sympathetic look. I guess I should have expected this to be awkward.

  “My son has a check to contribute,” Stu was saying as he held out an envelope. “He’s sorry he couldn’t be here tonight. He and his family had to leave early after the ham.”

  I snapped my fingers. “I heard the hog was a fifteen-pounder.”

  Megan laughed into her hand.

  Dad gave me a puzzled look. “How on earth do you know how much their ham weighs?”

  Mom nudged him and my cheeks lit up like…well, a Christmas tree, which was pretty freaking apt. I may as well pose for pictures and bust out the corsage.

  Somehow sensing my thoughts, my mother nudged me toward Megan. “We should get you two in a picture.” She waved the hired photographer over with her free hand. “We’d love some shots of these guests.”

  I mouthed I’m sorry to Megan. She only grinned. “It’s okay. I expected this.”

  “And you still came?”

  “My mom pulled the invitation off the fridge. Once she knew you and I were buddies, she suggested it herself.”

  I didn’t like thinking of Megan as a buddy. Buddies went snowmobiling together. Megan…I wanted to share things with her. Share about myself. Share about life.

  We were currently being maneuvered in front a fireplace at one end of the ballroom with a mantle decked out in boughs of holly and red ribbon—courtesy of Megan’s efforts at the florist. The first photo included Stu, Diane, Derek, and Megan along with my family. Then both our mothers strategically cleared the family out, leaving Megan and me together. A corsage would have come in handy after all. At least it’d give me something to do with my hands.

  “We should do a prom pose,” Megan suggested, giggling. She stood with her back to me and placed my arms around her. “But hold your arms stiff. Pretend like you want to touch me but you’re afraid.”

  My throat felt like a drained lake. “Sure.” Pretend.

  “Now smile really awkward.”

  I did as commanded and the photographer snapped away. Derek laughed.

  “Now do a nice one,” one of the mothers said. Honestly, I didn’t know which one. Their combined powers were startling.

  After the photographer moved on, Megan collapsed into laughs. “This is the face I made.” She showed me a toothy frozen smile with dead eyes.

  I cracked up. “Even if you’re trying to look bad, you can’t.”

  She swatted me. “Stop. Hey, is there something I can volunteer for? I don’t have any cash to donate.”

  “You’re a guest here. You don’t have to spend any money.”

  “But it’s a charity event.”

  “You’ve already done so much.” I didn’t want to be talking about this. There had to be some mistletoe around here. I should start carrying it with me.

  “Excuse me, Nick Bennington?” An aging man in a red sweater vest held out his hand.

  We shook. “Mr. Farinski. Heard you’re retiring.”

  He adjusted his wire frame glasses. “It’s time. You’ll make a great replacement. Crystal Cove needs to keep tradition with a Bennington on staff.”

  I laughed a little too loud and cleared my throat. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

  “You’re a sharp kid and just what this town needs. We have an interview spot saved for you.” He gave me a wink before moving on.

  By some miracle, maybe Megan hadn’t heard any of our conversation.

  Megan inched closer. “What was that about keeping a Bennington on staff?”

  No miracle for me. I backed us toward a corner, hoping to keep out of sight of, well, anybody. “It’s nothing. This town, it’s…small.”

  Megan squared off with me, her red dress like a stop sign I couldn’t blow past. “Are you—” She stopped, seeming to consider her words. “I know I’ve meddled enough with your life, but I have to ask. What about the interview in Madison?”

  “What interview in Madison?” That would be Mayor Bennington now at my side. I hadn’t made our corner hidden enough.

  “Hey, Mom.” I flashed her my charming smile.

  “What’s in Madison?” she repeated. The smile never worked on her.

  I ran a hand through my hair. “Nothing. Just…”

  That feeling, when a parent waited to throw down the gotcha hammer and you had to
do everything to delay the final slam? That was happening right now.

  Megan gave me an encouraging smile.

  “Nick,” Mom urged.

  “There’s an interview. With Whitewater Distillery. For a marketing job.”

  Understanding crossed my mother’s face. “That’s what you meant about opportunity.” Her expression landed somewhere neutral. “It sounds promising. Let me guess. Megan, you live in Madison?”

  Megan’s brow furrowed, then she shook her head no. “Chicago.”

  Mom pressed her lips together. “I’m sure you’ll have more details for us. Nick, I came to tell you it’s time to announce the first raffle winner.”

  I nodded as Mom walked away.

  Megan ran her hand up my sleeve. “You talk about feeling held back, but the only person I see holding you back is yourself.”

  “It’s just—” Just what? I was afraid to disappoint my family. No, more than that. I was…afraid. Life had a way of working out for me in Crystal Cove. A new job opportunity practically handed to me. Even the Madison job wasn’t much of a stretch. My parents wouldn’t have to miss me at all since I’d still live in town. The real chance would be believing I could do it. To be someone outside of who I’d always been.

  At the small stage, Jill held the microphone and announced the raffle winner. That was supposed to be me up there. “I can’t talk about this now.”

  Right now, I needed to be Nick Bennington, mayor’s son.

  Chapter 14

  Megan

  I found Mom and Stu gathered at the edge of the crowd listening to raffle prize announcements and did my best to blend. The knee-length fitted red dress I borrowed from Stu’s daughter fit surprisingly well and made me feel amazing. Stu’s daughter and her family had planned to come to the benefit, but their kids were acting up and it quickly became a meltdown situation. Turned out even advanced degrees were no match for a three-year-old’s tantrum and a five-year-old’s refusal to wear pants.

  I ended up really liking Stu’s kids. After witnessing their struggle to manage the kids, they seemed fully human and less intimidating. The offer to borrow the dress made me even more encouraged about our future family events.

  Less encouraging? Witnessing Nick freeze in front of his mom. Despite his declaration of feeling trapped here, he wasn’t ready to leave Crystal Cove.

  And it bothered me. Nick had dreams of doing more. Of being more than his family name. Didn’t he want more?

  Mom handed me a feathered mask and a Santa’s Little Helper sign, beckoning me into the photo booth. I flashed a goofy grin, but it didn’t feel as fun as earlier with Nick. Ugh, why was Nick holding himself back?

  We emerged from the booth and waited for our pictures to print.

  “Megan.” Stu walked toward me. Alongside him, a woman with warm brown skin and curly natural hair approached. She wore a festive sprig of holly on her suit jacket lapel. “This is the associate dean of students at Boone College.”

  “Oh. Hello.” I ripped off the feather eye mask and shook the woman’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “We’re a small liberal arts college ten miles out from town,” the woman explained.

  Stu leaned in toward me. “She said it’s easier than ever to transfer credits these days.”

  A numb sensation grew inside me. “That’s…great. But I live in Chicago,” I told the dean. “Kind of a long commute.”

  Mom laid a hand on my arm. “You could live with us while you commute. It would be temporary, until you finish your degree and get back on your feet.”

  “And when did I fall off my feet, exactly?” I asked my mom in a low tone. I kept up my smile for the dean.

  “It’s not easy making a living wage without a degree,” Stu added. Ever the helpful suggester.

  The dean looked between us, offering her own plastered-on smile. “We have flexible class schedules. You can continue to work and take courses. If that suits you.” She handed me her business card.

  This tension had to be unbearable for the dean. “Thank you. I’ll think about it.”

  As the woman moved on, I turned to my mom. “I know you’re trying to help, but putting me on the spot like that wasn’t fair. I already told you I don’t want to go back to college.”

  Mom winced. “Megan, we’re only trying to help. To give you direction.”

  I didn’t need direction. Okay, maybe a little focus wouldn’t hurt, but the answer wasn’t college. Not for me. “You’re not helping. You’re telling me who I am isn’t enough.” My voice trembled. If only red dresses bestowed the power to please parents who expected more.

  “Honey, I’m sorry. I was thinking since you hit it off with Nick, it wouldn’t be so bad to stay here with us. I thought maybe you’d look at life differently.”

  I could barely gather my thoughts fast enough. “Nick? You wanted to re-route my entire life because I hung out with a guy for a few days?” Not only was she re-arranging my career, but she wanted dibs on orchestrating my love life too? “I don’t want to live in this nowhere town and go to some stupid country college nobody’s heard of.”

  I sighed loudly and looked away from her. Not more than a few feet away, a Bennington’s gaze zeroed in on me. Mayor Bennington’s.

  Apparently, the raffle was over and the mayor had freed herself for mingling. Beside her, Nick. Two Benningtons, both staring at me.

  Chapter 15

  Megan

  I didn’t need to be reminded I was a crap daughter for blasting my family in public and trashing the town along with a perfectly reputable rural liberal arts college. Every inch of my indelicate outburst replayed in my head. Sure, maybe not many people had overheard me, but the two who mattered most had.

  I’d hurt Nick and his family on their own turf. Rushing over to them to explain and apologize, the mayor’s frosty silence told me everything. Nick had offered a curt, Let’s talk later, before steering his mother toward another group of guests.

  My apology to Mom and Stu on the ride home from the benefit last night had been met with a simple request to talk more in the morning.

  By the way: Merry Christmas.

  “I’m sorry,” I said at the breakfast table the following morning with Mom, Stu, and my brother.

  Mom jammed a serving spoon into the steaming egg casserole in a red and green plaid dish. “I can’t believe a daughter I raised has turned out so ungrateful.” A hefty portion of casserole landed on Stu’s coordinating plaid plate in a sloppy pile.

  Stu directed a solemn look my way. “I think you owe Mayor Bennington an apology note. I have stationery in the den.”

  “Such inconsiderate rudeness is not tolerated in this family,” Mom continued. “At any level. Megan Irene Campbell, you know better.”

  The middle name scorn cut deep. “I really am sorry. For embarrassing you and for belittling Crystal Cove.” I held up my plate and silently accepted egg casserole. I moved the plate too soon and a chunk of sausage slimed onto the linen tablecloth, instantly releasing a grease stain.

  “Did you talk to Nick?” Derek asked me quietly.

  I shook my head no. I’d texted him an apology but didn’t hear back. Probably best to cut ties, though I hadn’t the heart to delete his number.

  Mom let out a long, measured sigh. She steepled her hands over her plate. The Christmas tree-shaped block of butter displayed on a tiered serving tray waited for us to dig in, but no one did. “Megan, maybe you can share with us what you want out of life. That may help Stu and me to understand.”

  When my outburst wasn’t playing like a highlight reel through my mind, I’d been thinking this over too. I thought back to my conversation with Nick. What did I love about living in the city? The arts, the culture, the things I often read about but missed in person because I worked so many hours and didn’t have the funds for pricey ticketed events. I had, however, attended museum free days occasionally and even met up with one of our cafe regulars, Sadie, at the Chicago Historical Society. She became my unoffi
cial tour guide for a fashion exhibit. Sadie worked her day job at a vintage shop. She did the retail hustle same as me while dreaming of running the shop and expanding the business online.

  Only my something more was far more undefined.

  “I like planning events,” I blurted. I sounded ridiculous, and Mom and Stu’s faltering, too-eager faces proved it. I swallowed. “I’ve been booking our musicians at the cafe and coordinating private events. I’m good at the planning. It’s why I wanted the manager job at the cafe but…” I unfolded the red holly-trimmed fabric napkin and lay it across my lap, tugging at the edges. “I don’t think manager is what I want. I think I want to run events. Like, as a job.”

  Derek finished chewing a forkful of egg scramble. “My company outsources our event planning. Even our holiday party. You can freelance that, you know.”

  “Freelancing isn’t secure work.” Stu looked at Mom while he said it.

  “I know a lot of vendors.” I ignored Stu’s doubty-face. “People are always looking for space to use for events—it’s how our cafe got into booking private parties. I have sources, I just need to better organize them.” My thoughts sounded scattered, but ideas were coming together. “I never considered planning events myself outside of Drip.”

  Derek tapped his phone awake. “You could tag in with a company who already does event planning. Or start your own.”

  Mom pointed at Derek. “No phones at the table.”

  Stu held up a hand. “Let’s take it easy on the starting your own business talk. Megan isn’t in any position to start a company.” He chuckled. “Not with an income making coffee drinks and an unreliable car with four bald tires.”

  Mom cast a stern look at her husband. “Stu. Please be mindful Megan is an adult and we aren’t expected to direct her every move.” Mom looked across the table at me. “I think knowing what you want to do is a great start. Even if you don’t know how you’ll go about it yet.”

 

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