by Olivia Miles
With that, he stopped at the volunteer table, knowing that his grandmother would have words to say if he didn’t sign her up for at least two events. He scanned the sheets, knowing that the craft fair would be an excellent opportunity for her to unload some of her knitted goods (preferably that baby blue scarf with what was quickly appearing to be a ruffled edge), and knew that she would probably find enjoyment in the wreath-making event too.
He frowned when his hand slid over the children’s choir sign-up list, which was already two rows deep, and then, before he could think about it further, moved onto the next form.
Winter Carnival planning committee. That seemed easy enough, and management came naturally to him. But that wasn’t the real motivation as he picked up the pen. No, it was the name signed in loopy cursive, feminine, neat, and very legible: Jenna Conway.
Before he could give it another thought, he signed his name below hers.
Jenna spotted Mr. Pritchard standing at the doors, adjusting the buttons on his coat before he braved the cold. She hurried her pace, not just from anyone who might be behind her on the stairs, but because she’d been eager to speak to her former music teacher ever since the disastrous meeting earlier in the week.
“Mr. Pritchard!”
He turned and smiled at her and she couldn’t help but do the same, even though the mere thought of the pageant put her in a funk these days.
“I’ve been hoping to talk to you,” she said as she approached. “About the pageant. You must be so disappointed. I hope I wasn’t overstepping back there.”
“Not in the slightest!” He fumbled with the last of his buttons with trembling hands, and with a wash of sadness, she wondered if he was still able to play the piano. She knew that he’d stopped teaching private lessons years ago, which had allowed her to fill that void here in town. But now, seeing how he’d aged so much since last year’s holiday event, she couldn’t help but long for the days when she was still his pupil, he was still able to pursue the music he loved, and that her future still felt bright, thanks to his encouragement.
“I think the children are okay with the change for this year.” He looked at her with kind blue eyes. “But I’m sorry that you’re disappointed, dear. You always put such special care into the pageant, and this choir is a wonderful compromise. I hope you know how much I appreciated it and enjoyed working with you. I’m sad that those times have to come to an end, but grateful that we had the experience. It’s not every day that a teacher gets to work side by side with his former pupil.”
Jenna frowned at his word choice. “I know you’re retiring this year, but that doesn’t have to be the end of your contribution to the pageant. I’m sure the school would welcome the opportunity to have you help out again next year.”
He tilted his head. “Ah, so you didn’t hear?”
Jenna’s heart skipped a beat. “Hear what?”
Mr. Pritchard sighed. “The music department is at risk of being cut, my dear. The board will be voting on it in their final meeting of the calendar year later this month. There just isn’t enough room in the budget for everything, and the resources have to be allocated elsewhere. I suppose I should be relieved that the timing lines up with my retirement, but it saddens me that so much has changed since I first started working there.”
Jenna blinked back tears. No music department for the children? How could the board allow such a thing? It had been music that had taken her out of her shell, when she was a shy girl with shaky confidence, always feeling like she was living in the shadow of her bright and shiny sisters. They hadn’t intended for her to feel that way, but it had happened all the same. She was quieter, she liked to be home, and she hadn’t found her niche, not like them.
But then, thanks to the man standing before her, she’d discovered music. A chance to express herself, and even untapped talent, as he liked to say.
Jenna glanced over her shoulder to where the crowd was starting to come up the stairs and then back to Mr. Pritchard. “Did Suzanne tell you this or Travis Dunne?”
“Principal Dunne,” Mr. Pritchard said. “Though I’m not sure Suzanne will be returning, or if she was just waiting to deliver the news after my retirement. We go way back, of course.”
Of course. And that would be a reason for Suzanne to hold back such devastating news rather than taint Mr. Pritchard’s final year at the school.
“Have you spoken to the board members?”
“I’m afraid with my planned retirement, my opinion wouldn’t hold much weight,” he explained.
“Then I can speak to them!” She searched his face. “If you think it will help?”
“Oh, Jenna, that’s kind of you, but I’m afraid it would take more than one person, and more than a few dollars, from what I understand, too.”
“But it’s not certain yet,” she said, hearing the desperation creep into her tone. “There’s still a chance they will decide to cut back on other things.”
Mr. Pritchard’s gaze was steady and long. Finally, with a kind smile, he said, “One can hope. Especially at Christmas.”
“Can I walk you to the car?” Jenna asked. She needed fresh air to clear her head, and with the slippery sidewalks, she wouldn’t mind making sure that her favorite teacher made it safely.
“I can’t think of better company,” Mr. Pritchard said with a smile. “Christmas can be lonely for an old widower.”
Jenna slipped her arm through his. She knew this was his first holiday without his wife. All the more reason she would be sure to make the children’s choir an event to remember. She’d have them sing all of his favorite songs. He deserved that much, but so much more.
“Then you must volunteer for some of the fundraising efforts, especially the choir. I would welcome your help, and I’ve learned over the years that keeping busy is the best way to get your mind off your troubles.”
“Such a wise girl,” Mr. Pritchard said.
She gave his hand a little pat as they stepped out into the winter air. “I learned from the best.”
And that was precisely why she wasn’t going to let Mr. Pritchard’s music department be sacrificed if she could help it.
Chapter Five
The gingerbread event was a local favorite amongst Blue Harbor locals. Each December, the members of the community joined in the basement of the town hall for a day of baking and decorating. Unlike past seasons, this year, each gingerbread house that was made would be put up for auction at the end of the day to help raise money for the library—people could choose to bid on their own creations or take someone else’s home as a centerpiece to their holiday table.
Jenna, however, like most of her family members, would be staffing the event. It was fine; she had years of gingerbread house decorating behind her and she knew from experience that it was more difficult than it looked, especially when it came to piping. Try as she might, her creations rarely (make that never) came out as she envisioned them, and she was yet to get a roof attached without a mess of royal icing to show for it. She was just as content to help where needed and participate in the fun from a distance.
Amelia and Maddie were overseeing things today, as they’d done last year, but after the tree lighting ceremony on Friday, they’d also mentioned they would be donating a gingerbread house for auction—one they would manage to work on in the kitchen while overseeing everyone’s dough and making sure that nothing was getting burnt in the industrial ovens. Jenna could only admire them; no doubt there would be a bidding war for their creation.
Now, as Jenna entered the very room where the town meeting had just been held last night, she saw how quickly it had been transformed. The window pass to the kitchen was open, and Candy, like last year, had decorated its frame with lights and garland and a sign boasting her hot chocolate for sale. Usually, the proceeds of this went toward the Winter Carnival decorations, but with everyone donating so much for the carnival already, these proceeds would go straight to the library fund.
“Oh, Jenna, I’m so g
lad I spotted you.” Candy grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her over to the refreshment stand, where, like last year, Candy Cane Hot Chocolate was proudly displayed on the chalkboard menu, pun very much intended. “I wanted to talk to you about the costumes for the choir.”
Jenna had been bracing herself for this exchange ever since Candy first hinted at it at their last rehearsal. “I’m not sure that it’s in the budget, Candy,” she explained, hoping that with everyone pulling together to save the library, this would shut down further conversation. Already she had visions of striped knee socks, joker hats, and other items that one might associate with an elf in Santa’s village.
“We’re both on the Winter Carnival planning committee this year,” Candy said earnestly. Still, it was difficult to take her completely seriously when her not-so miniature Christmas tree earrings kept blinking like that. “We must make this year’s event extra special, so I got to thinking…”
Oh, dear. When Candy got to thinking, things got a little difficult for the rest of the Conway women. This was what led to Candy changing her wedding flowers half a dozen times and her wedding gown possibly more. Both of Jenna’s sisters had been on edge for months, only relaxing once Candy began her rather dramatic march down the aisle.
“I think a lot of people like the Winter Carnival just as it is,” Jenna said. “Why change it?”
“Oh, there’s always room for improvement, even when it comes to Christmas traditions.” Candy waggled her finger at Jenna, but Jenna didn’t find it funny. Candy had inadvertently hit a nerve, reminding her of Mr. Dunne’s similar words.
Well, she had an opportunity to show him, didn’t she? The mayor had sent her over a copy of the choir sign-up list this morning, which included a fair percentage of the children in town. Jenna’s mind had been buzzing all morning, thinking of how she could put her ideas into action with no financial resources and little time to rehearse.
“All right, then, what did you have in mind?” She braced herself, expecting something loud and over the top, as was Candy’s style.
“I was thinking about how Cora does a theme for our Christmas dinner each year,” Candy said. “It goes along with her entire theme for her shop window. So we talked about it last night after the town meeting…”
Jenna nodded politely. She could only hope that Cora had advised her in the right direction.
“And Cora just loved my idea!” Candy proclaimed.
Jenna chewed her lip, unsure if this was true. Cora was a gentle soul; perhaps she was being kind. Or perhaps she had run out of energy to argue with Candy. Cora had a boyfriend and his daughter to focus on now, not to mention that it was the busiest time of year for her shop; perhaps she no longer cared so much if Candy was determined to turn their Christmas dinner table into a scene out of Rudolph.
Reindeer. It would possibly be worse than the elves.
“What about an old-fashioned Christmas?” Candy said, clasping her hands together. She blinked expectantly at Jenna, and Jenna, was, surprisingly, at a loss for words.
“That’s….that’s a wonderful idea, Candy!”
And it was. They’d never had a theme for the carnival before, but now she could picture it, downtown Blue Harbor, with its quaint shops and homes and inns, all decked out with wreathes and ivy and red velvet bows, and her choir, caroling door to door, just like they might have done in generations past. She could see her children’s choir, standing in the town square as the snow gently fell around them, holding candles and singing “Silent Night”—Mr. Pritchard’s favorite carol. It would be beautiful. It would be serene. It would be special.
But it would be expensive. And how could she expect people to donate more when they were trying to save the library?
“Oh, but costumes like that would be a fortune!” She swallowed back her disappointment, kicking herself for allowing herself to feed into Candy’s contagious enthusiasm.
“Don’t you worry about that. I know a place two towns over. A theatre. I used to be quite the starlet back in my day,” Candy added with a lift of her eyebrow. “They said I might have the potential to go all the way.” She gave a little sniff and fluffed her blond curls.
Jenna tried to keep her face straight. “Really?”
Candy leaned in. “They said that I was too big for them. I should focus on something like Broadway. Hollywood.”
“Of course.” Jenna tipped her head, swallowing hard. “And…what do they have to do with the costumes?”
“Oh!” Candy looked momentarily disoriented, as if she’d been reliving her day in small-town musicals. “They put on a Dickens production each year and they have plenty of costumes that we can borrow. They’ll lend them to our choir free of charge.”
“Free of charge?” Jenna was skeptical. Candy dreamed big, and she didn’t back down easily.
Candy hesitated and then slid her eyes to Amelia and away again. “I may have offered them a free cast dinner, compliments of the café. I’m waiting for the right time to tell Amelia.”
Jenna laughed. Amelia might act annoyed, but Jenna knew that she wouldn’t mind. She loved to cook and feed people, and besides, this might bring in some new regular customers. Jenna wasn’t sure that anyone could resist one of her potpies on a cold winter night.
Jenna started to feel excited, thinking that could weave the theme into the decorations, maybe even get some people into the fun of it by having attendees don their more traditional coats and hats and anything else they might find in their old chests. She was sure that Maddie would love to offer some old-fashioned treats, and maybe Britt and Robbie would be willing to make wassail.
“Since we already carol door-to-door on Christmas Eve, why not also carol around the carnival? The costumes would set the tone for the entire event!”
Jenna couldn’t agree more. “Please tell them thank you for us. It’s a wonderful idea.”
“You can thank me later,” Candy said with a wink that made Jenna leery. It was clear from the coy way that Candy was looking at her now that her need for payback had nothing to do with the costumes—and everything to do with Scrooge.
Jenna’s eyes latched onto Travis Dunne, who was standing near the gingerbread decorating table, giving her a funny look.
“Tell me you didn’t assign me to the decorating table,” she said flatly to Candy. Normally, doling out gumdrops and licorice would be one of the more coveted volunteer jobs, but today, she’d rather be on clean-up duty.
“Did you see that man?” Candy all but swooned as she fanned her face with her hand. She dropped her voice to a stage whisper and said, “No ring. And I asked around. He’s filling in as the principal at the school.”
“I’m aware of that,” Jenna said drily.
“So you’ve met him?” Candy looked only slightly disappointed that she hadn’t made the introduction.
“Oh, I’ve met him all right.” Jenna began unwinding her scarf. “And you can tell that theatre that if they need an understudy for Scrooge, Ebenezer himself is just a few towns away!”
Candy’s mouth dropped but she said nothing more and Jenna began the short but slow walk to the folding table that housed everything from candy canes to marshmallows of all shapes and sizes.
She could feel Travis’s eyes on her as she approached, but she refused to look up, knowing that she would probably be met with a gloating smirk.
Instead, she took her position around the table, as far as she could reasonably stand from him, and tied the red-and-white-striped apron around her waist, to signal that she was a volunteer.
“We meet again,” he said, forcing her to glance his way.
“It’s a small town,” she said with a tight smile. “Though I’m surprised that you’re involved in this event.”
“I happen to be on the Winter Carnival planning committee. Seems that includes volunteering at many of these fundraising events.”
There was a long stretch of silence while Jenna absorbed this information. Travis seemed to take pleasure in it, judging
from his poor attempt at hiding his smile.
“I didn’t think Christmas traditions were your thing.” Jenna began straightening the candy dishes, grouping them by color.
“I thought I should probably get involved in the community while I’m here.” He shrugged. “And it’s for a good cause.”
“It’s nice to see that you care about some aspects of this town,” she said pertly.
“I see that you’re still upset about the pageant,” he said instead of explaining his presence.
Jenna tightened the strings of her apron and picked up a bag of peppermint candies. They could argue all night long about this, but it wouldn’t change a thing.
“The pageant or the music department?” She raised an eyebrow. “You left that part out of our meeting, though now that I look back on the conversation, you did hint at it.”
Travis rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. “I’m afraid it’s out of my hands. The board makes the decision.”
Jenna’s hands shook as she opened a bag of marshmallows and filled a bowl. “And what could be more important to the board than giving the children of Blue Harbor a diverse and complete education?”
“A new heating system? That playground equipment has seen better days, too.”
Jenna’s heart sank when she saw the frankness in his expression. “There must be funds somewhere. And the kids don’t have music class every day!”
“No, but it’s a cost. The space, the equipment, most of which are rentals, and the salary of the teacher. Something has to go.”
“You’re making this sound like it’s a done deal.” When he didn’t reply, Jenna set her hands on her hips. “You must have some influence.”
“I’m new. And I’m temporary,” he reminded her.
Jenna shook her head. “Maybe once the board members see the children’s choir, they’ll have a change of heart!” Jenna felt momentarily optimistic until she saw the resigned look on Travis’s face. He didn’t argue with her, but he didn’t encourage her, either. “I suppose the decision to cut the pageant didn’t help matters.”