by Ginny Baird
Yes, the challenge was huge, but she’d come up with an amazing idea. The mayor and the entire town council had been enthusiastic about it, too.
She was planning a parade. And not any old parade, but one that would serve as a superb fundraiser. In the last few days, she’d made tons of phone calls and sent dozens of emails, and everything was falling into place. Now, it was down to orchestration. Securing sponsors and volunteers, soliciting proposals for floats, and designing the parade route and other particulars.
With just ten days left until Christmas, she was under a bit of a time crunch, but she worked well under pressure. Though it was a holiday parade, Mary hoped that its benefits in putting Clark Creek “back on the map” would be realized all year through. Once more people recognized Clark Creek as a fun small-town destination for shopping, dining, and day trips, they’d only come back for more.
She needed boots on the ground to accomplish her goal, and she couldn’t wait to get started. After her appointment with the mayor, she’d be meeting with her Clark Creek liaison. She was grateful the county sheriff had volunteered to help her by showing her around the town while offering his logistical support.
The smattering of restaurants she passed looked like the type that placed outdoor tables on the sidewalks in pleasant weather. Mary spotted a few art galleries and grinned at her discovery of a kids’ museum. Fluttering red and green flags hung from lamp posts welcomed visitors to Clark Creek. The town definitely had potential. It simply needed to be discovered. Or, rediscovered, really.
It had been a regional hub back in the day when it had a working railroad station. One of the places she passed was called the Whistle Stop Café, which had been fashioned from an old train station. She’d looked it up online and had been charmed by its retro atmosphere and classic menu offerings. She hoped to drop by. Maybe she could do some of her project planning there.
She paused at a stop sign, noting she’d not seen a single stoplight in town. This was just the kind of place she’d always dreamed about living in when she was growing up. But her mom, Lila, was a big-city person.
Mary approached the town square, which was hemmed in by small businesses on both sides and presided over by two official-looking buildings. From the directions she’d been given, she knew that the imposing building was the courthouse, and the one with the columns, the library. A picturesque gazebo stood in the center of the square, and park benches bordered the outdoor skating rink nearby.
Mary sighed. She had a feeling she was going to love being in Clark Creek.
With a little luck, hundreds of others would soon be visiting, too.
Evan glanced out the window across from his desk. From where he sat, he could see the cupola of the snow-covered gazebo and a swath of the lights surrounding the skating rink. When he focused, he could also spot the first several shops lining Main Street, past the library and on the other side of the town square. The powdery white stuff continued to swirl from the sky and the sky was gloomy, matching his mood.
He couldn’t help but grumble at the town council’s decision to spend unnecessarily on a Christmas Consultant, who was apparently arriving today. The sooner she got here, the better, so he could put the inconvenience of meeting with her behind him.
Itzel Torres knocked at the door, which was partly ajar. “Visitors here to see you.” From his assistant’s deep blush, Evan could guess which “visitor” at least one of them was. Itzel had had a raging crush on Evan’s doctor brother for the past two years. Basically, ever since she’d first laid eyes on him at the county fair, shortly after moving here.
Nash was as clueless as ever, scarcely noticing the kindhearted brunette. Nash hadn’t dated anyone since losing his late wife, Becca, to cancer three years ago. Evan understood that had been rough, but he also wanted to see that carefree smile on Nash’s face again.
Maybe someday.
Itzel stepped aside and Nash nodded politely. “Thanks, Itzel.”
Evan’s five-year-old niece, Chloe, tugged on her dad’s hand, staring up at Itzel. “Thanks for the yummy Christmas cookies!” she said with a toothy grin. Evan chuckled to himself, knowing those cookies had been every bit as intended for Nash as they had been for his kid.
Nash rubbed the side of his neck as if remembering. “Right! They were very delicious, those man-te-ca…”
“-ditos!” Itzel inserted when he faltered on the word.
“Yeah, those.” He smiled pleasantly enough, but Evan could tell it wasn’t the kind of smile Itzel hoped for. “Sorry. I’ve never been any good at Spanish.”
“My mother used to make them all the time,” she said, attempting to engage Nash in conversation, but he didn’t take the bait. He seemed preoccupied by something, and Evan wondered what it was.
“How nice. Well, thanks again.” He turned toward Evan.
Before Itzel slipped from the room, she asked them, “Coffee, either of you?”
Evan shook his head and Nash said, “No, thanks.”
Chloe dropped her daddy’s hand and raced toward Evan.
“Uncle Evan! Can I wear your hat?” Her dark eyes twinkled. She had a little button nose, rosy cheeks, and two brown pigtails. If ever there was a picture of cuteness, Chloe Clark was it. Evan lightly tapped her nose.
“Only if you promise not to arrest me, Buttercup.” He couldn’t remember when he’d started calling Chloe that, but once he had, it stuck.
She giggled and rolled her eyes. “Uncle Evan. I wouldn’t do that.”
Nash set his hands on his hips. “Why not?” he asked his child.
“Yeah?” Evan queried, attempting to remain stern-faced. “Why not?”
“Cause you’re not one of the bad guys.” Chloe stated this as if it was obvious, and Evan and Nash laughed. Evan removed his hat, placing it on Chloe’s small head. It swallowed up most of her forehead and covered her ears.
Evan gave the brim of the hat a tug. “I think you’ll have to grow into it.”
She grinned from ear to ear. “When I grow up, I want to be a sheriff just like you.”
That novel bit of information touched his soul, but it worried him, too. If his niece was going to go “sheriffing,” he hoped she’d pick a place as nice and quiet as Clark Creek to look after.
“A sheriff?” Nash complained, but it was all in fun. “Not a doctor?”
Chloe stuck out her bottom lip, thinking. Next she proclaimed, “Maybe I’ll be both!”
“That would be a great mix,” Evan conceded.
Nash affectionately eyed his daughter. “You’d keep your town healthy and safe.”
Evan motioned for Nash and Chloe to have a seat in the two chairs facing his desk. “Did you want to see me about something?” he asked his brother. “Or is this purely a social call?”
“Yeah.” Nash cast a sidelong glance at Chloe, who seemed awfully happy about something. “The parade.”
This caught him off guard. “What parade?”
Chloe bounced in her seat. “The one we’re having here!”
Evan pushed back in his chair and stared at Nash. “I haven’t heard anything about it. How big? When and where?”
“Pretty huge, from what I gather, and it’s happening on Christmas Eve. It’s the where part I wanted to talk to you about.” Chloe grinned at him and Nash clammed up. The kid was obviously excited about the notion of a parade, and Nash didn’t seem to want to dampen her spirits. At the same time, he appeared concerned about something.
Evan’s gut churned over the potential complications a big parade could entail. The venture sounded complicated and costly, at a time when the town was already strapped.
“Sweetie,” Nash said to his daughter. “Would you mind running out there to tell Itzel I’ve changed my mind about the coffee? I really would love some, if it’s not too much trouble.”
Evan raised two fingers. “Make that two.”
Chloe hopped out of her seat. “All right.” She peered up at Evan, having to tilt her head way back in order to
see him. “Can I still wear the hat?”
Evan smiled at her sweetness. “Of course.”
Once Chloe had left the room, Nash leaned toward Evan and whispered. “It’s not the parade I’m against—entirely. I’m just not sure I can stomach the thought of porta potties popping up in my pasture.”
Evan felt like he’d been tossed another curve ball. “Can’t say I blame you. Who says that’s going to happen?”
“I heard Austin grousing to Leroy about it,” Nash said, referring to two of his farmhands.
Evan set his elbows on his desk. “Who told them?”
“Marshall.”
“Marshall?”
“Yeah,” Nash said. “Evidently, this Christmas Consultant lady is staying at his inn, and when she phoned to make her reservation, she requested a map of the town, along with other touristy information. He asked her what she was planning, and she was very happy to tell him. When Austin ran into Marshall at the feed and seed on Saturday, Marshall shared the news. Then, Austin told Leroy, who was not thrilled by any of it.” Nash sighed. “None of us are. About the porta johns, I mean. The idea of a parade is kind of cool. We’ve never had one in Clark Creek.”
“And one’s not happening now, as far as I’m concerned. Nobody’s asked me about it, and this definitely isn’t the year for overextending ourselves. The town’s hurting, Nash. Private businesses are hurting. We’re all hurting, and my office…” He swallowed past the tender knot in his throat. “Is barely hanging on.”
Nash’s face fell. “Aw, man. I’m sorry.”
Evan flattened his palms on his desk, staring down at his closed ledger. He’d just been reviewing his office’s finances again, and they were definitely in the red. “With my tiny staff, I’ve got nowhere to make cuts,” he said, looking up. “Itzel’s still paying off student loans, and Dennis and Linda are expecting a baby.” It would be the third child for Evan’s deputy and his wife.
“I know Helen already mostly works from home,” Nash said. Helen was Evan’s dispatcher.
“Yeah, and she’s got Bernie, who’s on disability.”
Nash’s shoulders drooped, and then his dark eyes brightened. “What if this parade actually helps? I heard that it’s a fundraiser.”
Evan heaved a sigh. “We don’t have the funds to run it, Nash. Clark Creek can’t justify spending money on something so frivolous.” He massaged his tight forehead with his fingers. “Policing a parade takes money. You need staffing for crowd control and traffic management. Resolving parking issues.” His mind snagged on the memory of what his mom had said about logistics and legalities. “Oh, ho. So that’s what Mom was driving at. She must have known about this parade last week.”
“But she didn’t tell you?”
“The mayor? Nope.” Evan set his chin. “She left that minor detail out.”
“I wonder why.”
“I’m guessing because she knew I’d be opposed.”
Chloe pushed back the door for Itzel and the woman entered, carrying two paper cups. “Two black coffees, coming up!” She set one on Evan’s desk and handed the other to Nash, her cheeks dusty rose.
“Thank you,” Evan said.
Nash sipped from his cup and smiled at Itzel. “Yeah, thanks, Itzel.”
Chloe scooted back into her chair, repositioning her hat. “Are you coming to the parade, Uncle Evan?”
He pursed his lips, then said kindly. “Not sure, Buttercup.”
She frowned and Nash patted the top of her hat. He sent Evan a questioning glance as Itzel left the room.
“Let me look into it,” Evan said, intending to do just that.
Chapter Three
Evan picked up his cell phone from where it sat on his desk and called the mayor, but the call went straight through to voicemail. Just like it had done the past several times he’d called. And she’d totally ignored his one-word text:
Parade???
Seriously. What were his mom and the town council thinking? Now wasn’t the time for party-like celebrations. Clark Creek was in dire straits. Hiring a Christmas Consultant to come up with suggestions was one thing. Paying her to stay on until Christmas Eve was something else.
He thumped his pencil against his ledger, his tension mounting. Things were so bad this year, he’d had to scrap his office’s annual Christmas luncheon, and institute a potluck instead. If finances didn’t improve soon, he’d need to do even more belt-tightening. He just didn’t know how or where. His pencil slipped from his grip and rolled off his desk and onto the floor, landing beside his right foot. He reached for it and his door swung open.
Itzel’s chatter spilled into the room. “Wait! You can’t go in th—”
“I’ll just be a minute,” a lilting voice said.
Evan spied a pair of black spiky-heeled boots approaching his desk at a fast clip.
He raised his head so quickly, he bumped it on the underside of his desk.
“Ow.”
“Oh! Oops!” Evan looked up and a woman’s face came into view. He knew every face in Clark Creek, and this was definitely a new one. She had long, curly brown hair, creamy white skin and big brown eyes. Without preamble, she set some sort of wooden reindeer decoration on his desk. Right on top of his ledger.
Wait a minute.
“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t know you were down there.”
“No, I guess not,” he said, dazed.
“Hang on one sec.” She surveyed the area, her gaze landing on his coat rack in the corner. “This will go much better…here.” Amazingly, she picked up the coat rack and carted it in front of the window, totally blocking his view. She removed the silly-looking plastic Christmas garland from around her neck and wound it around the coat rack. The greenery was threaded with tinsel that actually sparkled.
She produced a strand of miniature lights from her suit jacket pocket next and got to work twining them around the greenery before switching them on from a small attached battery pack. “There!” She grinned as their glow filled the room. “That’s better.”
He dropped his pencil onto his desk, stunned by her whirlwind display.
“Sorry about that,” she said. “I had an inspiration.” She gave him a friendly wave. “Hi there, I’m Mary Ward. Clark Creek’s new Christmas Consultant.”
“Mary.” Evan rubbed the back of his head, which was throbbing. He must’ve knocked it harder than he’d thought.
“Sorry, boss,” Itzel said from the doorway, not sounding sorry in the least. Actually, he suspected she was kind of enjoying the show. “I tried to stop her.” Itzel was a die-hard romantic and forever chastising thirty-four-year-old Evan for not having enough romance in his life. She probably figured the tall slim brunette was about his age, maybe a few years younger. Possibly even single. Not that those things mattered to him—one iota.
His main concern with Mary was getting her out of town quickly.
“What’s going on?” Dennis asked, appearing behind Itzel in the hallway. Dennis, a man in his forties with a dark brown complexion and deep-set eyes, had been made deputy before Evan had been elected sheriff. Evan could have appointed someone else in his place, but he valued Dennis’s experience and the fact that Dennis was a former Army man like he was.
Dennis eyed the Christmas decorations with a grin. “Hello. You must be—”
“Mary Ward.” She smiled. “Nice to meet you.”
“Dennis Armstrong,” the deputy said. “And this is—”
“Itzel Torres,” Evan’s assistant said.
Mary frowned. “Sorry about bursting in here. The reindeer were getting heavy.” She whispered like this was news, “The base is solid brass.” She gave Evan an apologetic look. “I’m sorry I surprised you, too. I didn’t know this office was occupied. I was just trying to finish up decorating the courthouse before my three o’clock meeting with the sheriff.”
“Sheriff Clark?” Dennis asked. His brow crinkled and Itzel giggled.
Evan thumbed over his shoulder.
&n
bsp; Mary’s face paled when she read his name and title on the open door. Even when viewing it from the opposite side, it was easy to make out what it said.
“You’re the sheriff?” She bit her bottom lip, scanning his shiny gold star and the name tag attached to his uniform. “I thought your office was downstairs. On the first floor?”
“Nope. Second.”
Her cheeks colored. “I see.”
Itzel and Dennis swung their gazes back and forth between Evan and Mary like they were watching a ping-pong match. Evan shooed them away before they could break out the popcorn. “Do you mind?”
Itzel smoothed back her short choppy hair. “Oh, right.”
Dennis took the deputy’s hat he held in his hand and placed it in on his head. “I was just leaving.”
“Sure you were,” Evan heard Itzel whisper to Dennis before she shut the door, but not all the way. She left it open a crack and then walked away very slowly.
Dennis seemed to be taking his time, too. He shoved his hands in his uniform pants pockets and pretended to admire the artwork that had hung on the corridor walls for as long as Evan remembered, while whistling “Jingle Bells.”
Evan raked a hand through his hair, then winced when he hit the tender spot on his head. “Who told you to decorate the courthouse building?” he asked Mary, trying not to let his discomfort show.
She met his gaze and grinned. “Nobody told me to. I offered. The mayor was all for it.”
Naturally, she was. Add one more thing to the check-out list. Ca-ching. Ca-ching.
“Um-hmm,” he mumbled. “The mayor.”
He slid open his top desk drawer, hunting for the roll of antacid tablets he kept on hand. He located the package and popped one in his mouth before thinking of Mary. He extended the package in her direction.
Her eyebrows arched. “Er…no thanks.”
Evan chewed on the peppermint-flavored antacid, pondering the price tag for so much fancy decorating. It had to be steep if she was covering this three-story building. Plus, it had a basement. And a large entryway with a staircase.