Page 6 of Never Sleigh Never
I throw my hand in the air. “See! That’s how popular it was. Eight years ago, when I joined Mrs. Kingsley as the assistant, I offered fresh ideas to draw a crowd. Gradually, each year got a little better. We added more activities and games and rides. Together, we brought back the tradition of the Holly Jolly Festival to Mount Holly.” I blow out a deep breath, remembering some of the more memorable mishaps. “Now I can’t say that each year since I’ve been here hasn’t been without a few hiccups. Like when the reindeer thought Mistletoe Street would make a good runway.”
Sloane snorts. “I remember when the mini sled dog race turned into a mini dog orgy.”
I pinch my eyes closed. “I never thought No Humping Allowed would become a rule, but here we are.”
“Don’t forget, turkey frying is banned after the turkey hut went up in flames.”
“Yes! Luckily, Mason was on duty that day and got the fire out with minimal damage to the other huts. These are all minor mishaps, that’s all. They could happen to anyone. Including whatever outside agency the town council thinks could do a better job.”
“I’m sorry. That sucks.”
“To add another Yule log to my fire, which is already burning out of control, Logan Crawford is back in town.” I roll my eyes.
“Who’s Logan Crawford?”
“Well, let me tell you about Logan Crawford. He is only the most annoying, condescending, know-it-all, arrogant jerk Mount Holly has ever produced. The cherry on top is he’s the biggest pain in my ass.”
“So there’s history there. Did you date him? Wait! Did he dump you? You sound like a scorned ex-lover.”
“No, and hell no. Why would I be the one getting dumped? Why can’t I be the dumper and not the dumpee? Never mind, it doesn’t matter. If he was the last person on this planet, I wouldn’t want to date him. Like, if me and him were required to repopulate the earth, I’d send him a fruit basket wishing him the best of luck on the apocalypse and call it a day.”
“Alright. What does him being in town have to do with anything?”
“So not only do I have to pull off the best festival this town has ever seen, but I also have to do it while he’s organizing his own Christmas carnival.”
“Okay. So, you’ll have a little competition? You can handle it.”
“But I don’t want or need competition. I already have a lot riding on this without the added pressure of competition.” When there’s a first and second place involved, I always get the silver medal, and I can’t afford to come in second. “He’s not even in town for three hours, and he’s already back to ruining my life.”
“I’ve known you for eight years now, and you concede to no one. I know you’ll put on the best festival this town has ever seen, and people will be like, ‘What carnival?’”
My shoulders slump. I want to believe her. I don’t doubt my abilities, but Logan Crawford has always been my kryptonite. If he and I are involved in anything that puts people on a podium, he’s always at the top.
“You’re Brie McKenna. You always rise from the ashes like a unicorn.”
“Don’t you mean phoenix?”
“Unicorns are more fun. They have a horn for spearing. Anyway, don’t sweat it. Just do what you do best, and kick ass. It’s like that time when Mrs. Peterson was choking on her donut at the diner, and you jumped to your feet and gave her the Heimlich and saved her life. Your quick thinking did that.”
Well, Mrs. Peterson being the town’s treasurer, I needed her alive so she could write me a check for the 4th of July parade. I exhale a deep breath. “But seriously, this day has already turned into a flaming bag of dog shit, and fast. Like kerosene dumped on the bag. Explosion.” The whooshing sound of a toilet flushing ricochets off the tile walls. With the phone still to my ear, I spin to where the sound originated, and I freeze like a baby deer. The far stall door opens, and Mrs. Peterson emerges. Maybe if I don’t move, she won’t see me. She strolls to the sink and washes her hands.
“Brie? Brie, are you still there?” Sloane says through the phone.
“I’m not alone,” I whisper.
Mrs. Peterson dries her hands with a paper towel. When I think she’s going to walk past me, she stops. Her floral perfume lingering in the air. “Don’t forget about Margaret’s phallic-shaped cookies she tried to pass off as lighthouses. We all know they weren’t lighthouses.”
I pinch my lips together and nod in a silent agreement.
She pats my forearm. “You go kick their ass,” she whispers, then glides out like a benevolent gossip fairy.
“Brie? What’s going on? Who are you talking to?” Sloane asks.
As soon as the door closes behind Mrs. Peterson, my heart thumps back to life. I sag against the tile wall. There’s a good chance the entire town will know about my run-in with Logan by noon, and I’m not prepared for all the questions they’ll have.
“Brie? Answer me or I’m calling 911.”
“Yeah. I’m here.”
