by Ginny Baird
“True,” Judy answered. “But long enough for you to get the job done. I was really impressed with your proposal. The folks at headquarters were, too. They called it ambitious. Innovative. Once you pull it off, they’ll be singing your praises even louder.”
“As long as their tune carries me to all the way to Washington state, I’m happy.”
“I’m going to miss you, girl,” Judy said after a pause. “Which is why I’m going to have to come visit.”
“Oh!” Mary squealed. “Please do. Just as soon as humanly possible. We can have so much fun exploring the town.”
“You’ll have to get there first.” Judy laughed and Mary laughed along with her. “Now that you’re settled in, I suppose you’ll begin the implementation phase.”
“Yep. Getting started tomorrow. I’m seeing Evan at 10:00 a.m.”
“Maybe I should say good luck.”
Mary grinned, because after she’d left the courthouse, she’d begun devising a plan.
“Thanks. But I might not need it.” What she needed was a way to make Evan her ally, and not her adversary. The best way to do that was by helping him see that some of the benefits of the parade would fall on his office. Marshall was on point with that.
She’d flesh things out after she got off the phone with Judy and finished her pizza. Then make some quick notes so she could present her ideas to Evan in the morning. Surely, he’d see things her way one he’d been shown the big picture. And that picture was going to involve one totally glorious, happy-heart-making—and revenue-producing—Christmas parade.
Chapter Six
Evan entered the Whistle Stop Café and found Mary sitting at one of the tables by the front window. He spied her the moment he stepped through the door, but she was so engrossed in her work, she didn’t see him. She was sketching out some kind of drawing on a legal pad, and a coffee cup sat at her elbow on top of an open town map. There was basically no place for him to sit. Not if he wanted to put his own coffee cup down somewhere.
He hoped to make this meeting as painless as possible. He’d tried talking to the town council members, and every last one of them, including the generally amenable Vivi Torres, had sent him packing. They all loved Mary’s plan and admired the positive energy she brought with her. If anyone could reinvigorate the flagging financials of Clark Creek, it was Mary Ward. Their first, only—and last, if Evan had his way about it—Christmas Consultant. Since he couldn’t stop the parade, he could at least try to keep it scaled down to a reasonable size. That was his mission this morning: to keep things under control.
“Morning,” he said, and she looked up. He wasn’t sure what sort of greeting he’d receive, based on his aversion to her ideas yesterday, but she welcomed him with a warm smile.
“Good morning!”
Good. She wasn’t the sort to hold grudges. At least that was something. Given that he was being forced to work with her for nine more days.
Evan pulled out a chair and her eyebrows arched. “Don’t you want coffee?”
The aroma of fresh-roasted beans travelled his way. Coffee did sound good. The Whistle Stop Café was all self-serve from the counter, and when he glanced over, he saw the line was short. “I think I will grab myself a cup.”
“Don’t take too long,” she teased. “We’ve only got thirty minutes.”
“Ha.” He grinned, feeling the jab.
Okay, so maybe he could have given her forty-five minutes. Probably still could. Things weren’t that busy on his docket for today. Frankly, they were a little dead. He’d completed his morning drive through town, and everything looked tranquil under a blanket of snow. That was after visiting farmer Jeb Wilson, who’d put in a panicked early-morning call to Helen about a stolen cow. Turned out old Bessie had found a hole in the fence and sauntered through it to visit with a bull in the neighboring pasture. Evan had grinned to himself when he’d discovered that, thinking that spring wasn’t even in the air yet.
The only thing Evan had going on this afternoon was a presentation at his niece’s elementary school for Community Helpers’ Day. Marshall’s pal Donny Jones would be there representing the Volunteer Fire Department, and Megan Parks, a nurse practitioner from Nash’s clinic, was scheduled to attend. One of the town librarians, Shirley Watson, had promised to show, and Evan’s dad, Jesse, was putting in an appearance on behalf of the Department of Public Works. Those guys were staying extra busy on account of this heavy snow.
Evan returned to the table with his coffee, seeing that Mary had folded up her map, clearing a spot for him. “I’m sorry about the mess,” she said. “I tend to make myself at home. When I’m in a hotel, my stuff is everywhere.”
Evan took a sip of his coffee, glad that he’d gotten it. Something told him he’d need a ton of caffeine to keep up with her. She sat there looking as bright-eyed as a frisky kitten, energy oozing out of her. Mary was clearly a morning person. “Spend a lot of time in hotels, do you?”
“Not as much as I used to. I basically grew up in them. My mom’s a corporate chef, and my dad wasn’t really around. So.” She shrugged. “I guess that was the life I knew.”
His instinct was to feel sorry for her, because to him that sounded depressing and so different from how he was raised: on a big family farm with two supportive parents and his brothers, and lots of time spent outdoors. Yet, in an interesting way, she didn’t seem bothered by the memory, merely reflective about it. “That must have been different.”
“It had its positive aspects, and its downsides,” she said. “It wasn’t easy making friends, for one thing. Not many other kids live in fancy hotels, and we never really stayed anyplace for too long.”
Those all sounded like negatives to him, but he didn’t say so.
“The upside was that I got to travel a lot and we lived in some cool places.”
“Oh yeah? Like where?” He held up a hand. “Wait. Let me guess. New Orleans?”
“I give you an A plus for listening.” Her lips pulled into a grin and he felt that inconvenient jolt in his chest—again. He pounded it with his fist, thinking he needed to slow down on the coffee. He definitely wasn’t attracted to her. That would be lame. She was only here temporarily, and he wasn’t in the dating game anyway.
“Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh. Fine.”
“So, anyway,” she went on. “Apart from New Orleans, there was Washington, D.C., and then Atlanta. Richmond, but only for three months.”
“Three months?”
She waved his concern aside. “I eventually moved back there on my own. Two years ago last May.”
“Ever live anywhere outside the country?”
“The Caribbean, yeah. We were in Saint John for a season.” Her face took on a dreamy cast. “I was twelve and thought we’d landed in heaven.” She drank from her cup. “Have you travelled much?”
“Just with the Army. Hot spots in the middle of deserts. None of them were what I’d call heaven. Except for that last post in the UAE. That assignment was cushy. No tents. I got to stay in a very nice hotel. I’m guessing it had a corporate chef.”
“If it was a five-star establishment, it most certainly did.” She grinned and dimples settled in her cheeks. Extremely enchanting dimples that he’d failed to notice before. He didn’t know why he’d noticed them now, other than that they were very apparent when she smiled.
He checked his watch, seeing that fifteen minutes had elapsed and they hadn’t even started talking about the parade. It was weird for him to lose track of time, but he’d found himself caught up in her story about her upbringing. Not to mention her big brown eyes.
His ears burned hot at that last thought and he cleared his throat. She observed him in a curious manner, like she was wondering what he was thinking, and he definitely didn’t want her to know. He had no business contemplating her big brown eyes. What on earth was wrong with him? “So. About your parade…”
“It’s your parade too,” she said, clearly wanting him to take ownership
, which he was not, in any way, shape or form, going to do. “I believe, when I explain my ideas, you’ll appreciate how much.”
He set down his coffee cup. “I’m not sure I follow.”
“I’ve thought of a way to raise money, not just for Clark Creek in general, but for specific parts of it, like your Sheriff’s Office.”
Now she had his interest. “Go on.”
“Today is Community Helpers’ Day at your niece’s school, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, but how did you know that?”
“Marshall told me this morning. He was invited to go, due to his inn’s support of the soup kitchen. But because of his hours at the soup kitchen—”
“There was a conflict,” Evan said. “Yes. I know.”
“In any case,” she continued. “The whole Community Helpers’ thing sparked an inspiration when I heard about it yesterday.”
“Ah. Another inspiration.” He held her gaze and it looked like she was trying not to blush. He hadn’t meant for that to sound flirty, but he worried that it had.
“Yes. Well.” She licked her lips and tugged her gaze away from his, focusing on her satchel, which she lifted off the floor. She extracted a piece of paper and handed it to him. “Here.” It was a printed list with organizations’ names on it, like the Community Church, the Clark Creek Library, Miller’s Bake Shop, the Volunteer Fire Department…and—yep, there it was, smack-dab in the middle—Clark County’s Sheriff’s Office, along with the names of lots of town businesses, and—hang on—even the local animal shelter.
He raised his eyes to hers. “What’s all this?”
“My ideas for the different floats.”
There had to be at least twenty-five names on the list, and there was a second stapled page…and a third. “Oh, no,” he told her. “No, no, no, just no. I’m sorry, Mary. Clark Creek definitely can’t handle a parade of this size.”
“You don’t understand. It’s all voluntary. And all participants stand to benefit in terms of parade proceeds. Each float will receive a prorated amount from ticket sales, in addition to any direct donations as designated by sponsors. So, the more floats the better.”
He wasn’t so sure about that.
“Clark Creek’s general operating budget will earn the lion’s share from ticket sales: sixty percent. It will also secure a ten percent portion of float sponsorship earnings to help offset parade costs and further bolster town revenues.”
She clearly showed acumen with the fundraising angle, but was not at all focused on the fallout. The proportions of this parade she was putting together only doubled or tripled his problems regarding logistics and crowd control. And nobody—from his mom, the mayor, down to Mary—seemed to be giving any consideration to that.
“Think about it!” she continued. “Each float could be a cool project for any organization or office. School groups can participate too, like the high school band…but they’ll be marching, of course. And a float doesn’t have to be a ‘float’ in a traditional sense. The library could use its mobile book unit and decorate it with streamers and balloons…big painted signs with messages in support of books and reading. The Feed and Seed could use one of their flatbed trucks, and—”
“That’s a lot of last-minute planning. Christmas Eve is less than two weeks away. At this late date, who says that anybody would be interested?”
“They already are.”
“What?”
She smiled in a self-congratulatory fashion. “I spoke to several people this morning, including the high school band director. The library and Miller’s Bake Shop are also on board. The Feed and Seed, too.”
“How did you accomplish all this?” Evan checked his watch again, which was a regular habit of his. He wasn’t one for wasting time, so always minded it. “It’s only ten-twenty.”
“I started early.”
Evan raked a hand through his hair and the back of his head throbbed, reminding him of the headache Mary had caused him yesterday. Something told him it wasn’t half as big as the ones that were coming.
She leaned toward him, growing increasingly animated. “The people at the shelter were super nice. They asked about putting adoptable dogs and cats on their floats and I said yes! What a fantastic idea.”
Evan’s jaw dropped. “Live animals?”
“Most of them will probably be in carriers. They have a very well-trained half Dalmatian-half Collie,” she reported. Evan found it hard to envision this. “Her name is Harriette. And a Corgi mix named Rex. Those two are to be mascots, because they’re older and extremely well-behaved. The cats they’re not so sure about, except for Louie.”
“Louie?”
“He’s their big old tabby tom who sleeps a lot. Totally chill. They thought maybe he could ride in the cab of the first truck.”
“First truck?”
“They’ll need at least three or four pickups to fit all the animal cages in and not crowd them. Each and every one of those little guys deserves a chance for adoption. You can’t tell me that you disagree?”
This was tricky business. Now, she was making him out to be an animal hater. “No, I don’t disagree. I mean, I do agree with you about adoptions. In general, and responsible pet ownership in particular. Neutering and spaying, all of that.”
Her face fell in understanding. “But you hate the idea about the rescue floats.”
“No, no. I think it’s good. But four trucks?” He grimaced. “Maybe a little over the top?”
She huffed. “These are little lives we’re talking about, Evan.”
“Right.” He frowned, understanding animal rescue was an important issue, and that he should support it. Still, this was just one more complication. “How do you propose to work that, anyway? The adoptions?”
“I was hoping we could set up an adoption booth at the end of the parade route,” she said. “Maybe alongside Santa’s workshop?”
Santa’s what?
She didn’t seem to notice his confusion. “I flew the idea by the town council, and they loved it. Your mom adored it, too. So many needy animals finding their forever homes by Christmas. This is so exciting! By the way.” Her eyes sparkled. “You were absolutely right about the parade starting at the town square. The gazebo is the perfect place for selling tickets.”
Oh, no. He was not taking credit for any of this.
He started to speak, but her phone buzzed and she stared down at it. “I’m sorry.” She frowned. “I’d better take this.”
Things were getting out of control here, which was definitely not what Evan wanted. A potential sixty or more floats wasn’t a manageable parade, it was overwhelming for a town the size of Clark Creek. And what about those rescue floats? What if something went wrong and they experienced an encore of animals stampeding down Main Street?
“Hi, Nash!” she crooned into the mouthpiece, and Evan was sure his eyes bugged out. What was Nash doing calling Mary? “You can?” she said, looking pleased. “Oh, absolutely! Tomorrow at noon would be perfect. Thank you…Evan? Yeah. I’m sitting right here with him.” She covered her phone. “Nash says to tell you hi.”
Evan rubbed his temples. Now his brother was lining up against him. Who would be next? Marshall?
“Oh yeah,” she told Nash, “That’s what Marshall said too. A real landmark occasion. Clark Creek’s first parade ever. Aww, did little Chloe ask that, really? You can tell her that of course Santa Claus will be there.” She winked at Evan. “Santa always finds a way.”
Her phone buzzed again and she stared down at the display. “I’m sorry, Nash, I’ve got a call coming through from your mom…okay, great, thanks!” she said. “See you tomorrow.”
Seconds later she was on with the mayor. “Hi, Connie…ooh, fantastic! For the gazebo? Yes. Yes. That’s just what I asked for. Hang on. Right now? He’s there taking measurements? Oh wow. I need to meet with him. Ask him not to leave, will you? I can be there in ten.” She finished her call and shoved her things into her satchel. “I’m really sorry, Evan,�
� she said. “Do you mind if we continue our discussion about the parade route tomorrow?”
Continue? That particular discussion hadn’t even gotten started. They also hadn’t gotten around to the notion of ticket sales and how Mary planned to coordinate those. He was so dazed, all he could say was, “Uh-huh.” How had she done all of this so quickly? Somebody was decorating the gazebo? Who? And why was she meeting with Nash? It couldn’t seriously be about those portable bathrooms?
“The Holly and the Ivy Nursery in Hopedale has done the most amazing thing,” she told him, standing. “They’re donating a huge fir tree for the town square and a grouping of smaller trees and greenery for the gazebo. All gratis! Lagniappe.”
“I thought lagniappe was that little extra bonus paid when you did business with someone?”
“Clark Creek is doing business with the Holly and the Ivy. They’re one of our new sponsors for the parade. Elf League level!”
“Sponsoring one of the floats?”
“Nope. Not a float. Just serving as a general sponsor for the parade in exchange for advertising. They get their name and logo on some banners and in the parade program.”
“There’s going to be a program?” Evan asked weakly, and all he could picture was piles and piles of post-parade litter swirling down Main Street through the snow.
“Don’t worry.” She tilted her chin. “Won’t cost Clark Creek a thing.”
“I…see,” he said, feeling like he’d walked into some sort of dreamworld orchestrated by Mary. A dreamworld that more and more people seemed to be getting sucked into. “What are you talking with Nash about?” He wasn’t jealous of his brother, or anything. Even if Nash was a decent-looking guy and a well-paid doctor, who ran his own farm...
“Oh, lots of things,” she said mysteriously.
Tons of women found Nash attractive, including—very plainly—Itzel. Maybe Mary would too. Which shouldn’t be a big deal. Seriously. Nash hadn’t looked at a woman with interest in a while. At the same time, Nash hadn’t yet met Mary, with her perky grin and that endless optimism that could drive a man wild.