Page 1 of Caught in a Christmas Conundrum

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Kate

“All right,that’s the last of the mini cheesecakes for the Christmas Tree festival.” My assistant, Phyllis, stands in the kitchen after shutting the door to our big, industrial-size refrigerator.

My catering business is officially one year old, and while I’m not wildly successful, it’s been better than I had feared. I’m not in danger of going out of business before the end of the year anyway. Not with the Christmas Tree Christmas festival going on.

I better correct Phyllis.

“You mean the Christmas Tree Christmas festival,” I say, smiling, expecting her to smile and admit that she misspoke.

“No. The Christmas Tree festival.”

“We’re not catering the Christmas Tree festival. We catering the Christmas Tree Christmas festival.” I usually can let mistakes go. I’m not a perfectionist, exactly, but I do like to have things right. And I like the details to line up.

“On the schedule, it says the Christmas Tree festival.” Phyllis looks at me, her gaze steady. She’s not arguing. She paysattention to details the same as I do, and I’m sure she is waiting to make sure that I get it right.

I’m ready to open my mouth to argue again, but I decide that it’s smarter to just take the five steps over to the computer and check.

“I spoke with Mrs. Brown, who is in charge of coordinating the Christmas Tree Christmas festival, and that’s on Saturday. And that’s what we’re catering,” I say as I wake the computer up and click through a few screens.

“Mrs. Brown was also in charge of the Christmas Tree festival, and it is also on Saturday. That’s what I booked,” Phyllis says, her head tilted, as I glance up at her. Like she’s making sure I understand that she was the one who put this in the calendar.

That’s silly, because I put it in the calendar.

For some reason, my computer is being slow, and I patiently wait for the calendar to load.

Living in Christmas Tree, Pennsylvania, a town with Christmas in its very name, we take the holiday seriously. There are festivals galore, as well as parades and parties and dinners and galas this time of year. We’ll do anything to get the tourists in, and it’s been pretty effective. I would never open a business in a small town like Christmas Tree if we hadn’t had that steady inflow of tourist money.

Finally, the calendar loads, and it takes a few minutes of looking at the dates for me to understand what exactly the conundrum is.

A sinking feeling starts in my stomach, chased away by full-blown, painful, explosive panic.

I straighten and look at my assistant. “We’re booked for both.”

I swallow hard, although my throat is tight and my hands have suddenly started to sweat. What am I going to do? I’m not prepared to do both, and Saturday is tomorrow.

We have everything perfectly aligned, and all of our resources are going toward making sure that everything is perfect for the Christmas Tree Christmas festival, and somehow, probably because of the similarity of the names and the fact that they’re the same date, with the same point person, neither one of us realized that we were preparing for different festivals.

“Our town is the stupidest town in the entire world,” Phyllis says. “Just saying,” she adds, rolling her eyes.

I can’t disagree. The whole reason that there are two festivals is because there used to be one, which was run by two sisters. The sisters married men who couldn’t get along, and the sisters ended up splitting up, one of them going to one side of the town and one of them going to the other side of town, and each of them having their festival on the same day. It wasn’t too big of a deal back then, and we’re talking fifty years ago. But what started out as a bitter rivalry eventually became a friendly one, as the sisters made up. They continued the tradition of having two different festivals on the same day, with very similar names.

I know. It’s hard to keep track. No wonder we got confused.

“All right. The bright side of this is that we’re going to get paid twice as much as what I thought we were, and it’s going to be the biggest payday we’ve ever had.”

“You’re not actually thinking of trying to pull off both festivals?” Phyllis asks, incredulity in her voice.

“I guess I was hoping we could,” I say, because that’s the only solution I can stand to think about. Canceling one is unconscionable. First of all, it could start another feud, because whatever festival gets canceled is going to be mad at the one that doesn’t. Even though they’re both coordinated by Mrs. Brown, there are different people involved in both. Because they’re both a big deal. This is the biggest day for outside tourists for our town in the entire year.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t think we have the resources to do this. Even if we could find people to work with us, we’d need to get them trained and help them figure out what to do, and we just don’t have enough time.” Phyllis’s words are reasonable, and I know she’s right, but I don’t want to cancel. The reputation of my business depends on us being able to fulfill our obligations, perfectly, deliciously, and on time.

That’s my motto. Perfect, delicious, and on time.

“There’s gotta be something we can do,” I say, and I put my hands behind my back and start to pace.

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