Page 44 of Mistletoe Misses
“I’m sorry. You probably don’t remember me.” She steps out from behind the table and holds out a gloved hand. “I’m Veronica, Mayor Whitacre’s better half.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Did my husband force you to volunteer at this event too?”
“No. I’m here with …” I find the craft table across the field, giving me time to somehow figure out how to put a label on my companions.Friendsdoesn’t fit.Girlfriends? Just the plural of that word is ridiculous and wholly false.Someone I’ve known my entire lifeand someone I just met, both of whom are out to make me theirs—too complicated and embarrassing. I watch Carmen return to the others before giving my attention backto Veronica. By the knowing smile she’s giving me, she saw everything I did.
“I get it,” she says, and my core heats with humiliation. How can everyone understand me and my life while I’m in the dark about both?
“You do? Maybe you can enlighten me.” Where did that come from?
“You’re exploring your options … as you should. Live it up and let them fight over you.” She winks. “Who knows what you’ll discover about them and yourself along the way? You might even have a little fun.”
My mouth drops open, too surprised to respond, before I realize and appreciate the rarity of that advice. “You’re the first person who hasn’t encouraged me to jump headfirst into my past. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome but stop worrying so much. No one will think you’re a jerk if you enjoy your bachelorhood. You’re young. Do young people things for once, Maddox.”
“I did miss out on that.”
“Yes, you did. Now, get back over there and flirt with both if you want. Spend time with whoever gets your motor going. You’re not chained to any decision you’ve made or will consider making. This time in your life is for figuring out what makes you happy. So, do it.”
I’ve been talking to this woman for less than five minutes, and I already love her. “It’s too bad you’re taken.”
“Itisa shame.” She flashes me a playful smile and pats my arm. “Turn that charm on them and anyone else who steals your attention and see what happens.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Heading back to the others, I’m feeling better. Even hopeful for an easy, uneventful afternoon, but I’m not sure I can do as Veronica recommended. I’m not a flirt and haven’t exercisedthat muscle since high school, and even then, it was only with Carmen. It’s always beenonly Carmen. I wouldn’t even know how to start. And if I did, wouldn’t I be leading them on? I have no idea what I want or where my actions may take us. Isn’t that rude and inconsiderate when I have no conceivable intentions or thoughts of commitment with either of them beyond this month? My job and life in Boston await my return.
Enjoy it, Veronica had said. Yeah, right.
A whistle blows from the information booth, and the entire crowd zeroes in on me as if I made the noise. I stop mid-stride, frozen in my insecurities, as I watch every kid within listening range take off from where they’d been playing to surround me. They meet me with expectation and excitement, and I’m trapped.
“Maddox.” I find Veronica standing outside the swarm of kids. She reaches over their heads to pass me a piece of paper. “Since your charm has the attention of our eager participants, maybe you would be best to deliver this information.”
“What?” How do I keep getting myself into these messes?
“Just read it and have fun.” With a wink, she slinks back to the other awaiting adults, all of whom are expecting event instructions… fromme.
Skimming the crowd beyond, all the faces blur in my heightened blood pressure until I locate Sadie.Do what we do,her lips say, but my pulse races too loud in my ears to know if any sound accompanies the gesture. It’s my cue to act my way through this. If Maddox can’t gather enough nerve to read a few words off a piece of paper, I should find a persona inside me who can.
Sergeant Henderson emerges first. I’ve worked many events in Boston, shuffling and guiding patrons for hours on end. And this isnotthe Boston Marathon. It’s children and sledding and rubber duckies for goodness’ sake. Putting on my cop hat, I readthe instructions, accentuating the most important information in my friendly, no-nonsense tone.
“So, what’s rule number one?” I ask, holding up a finger to my enthusiastic audience to recap.
“Stay out behind the ducks,” they yell in unison.
“Great. What’s rule number two?”
“Be safe.”
“And rule number three?”
“Have fun!” The group squeals and bounces, many on me, and I end up with a kid on each hip and another latched to my leg.
“You’ve got it. Now, let the race begin.” They all take off in a blur of colorful winter coats and hats toward the starting line with family and friends close behind.
I do this sort of thing all the time, but never once did I appreciate or enjoy it. It’s always been about what the job required, not what it meant to the people I led.
