Page 35 of Saved By Noel
Clark’s frowning face fills my mind’s eye.
Opening a new document, I begin typing.
Chapter twenty-two
Clara
Two weeks later, I’m driving back to Noel. This is the first time I’ve made the biweekly trip I’d imagined when I purchased the cabin. But I can see it becoming a comfortable new groove. At home, I’ve been too swamped to get any writing done on the script I started during my last trip here. Between helping my parents repaint their basement and picking up Michael’s slack at work, I’ve hardly had any free time.
I went to work early today so I could leave after a late lunch and make it to Noel at a decent time. But first, I made a quick detour to a neighboring suburb. Syd invited me over for dinner tomorrow, and I’m bringing some of the best cookies the world has to offer. A local baker was baking and selling enormous cookies out of her house until demand grew so large that she opened a storefront. With rotating flavors, my sweet tooth is always begging me to stop in for a taste. It’s probably a good thing that it’s a solid thirty minutes from my apartment, or I’d be there every day.
The puppy chow cookie is currently calling to me from the box on the passenger seat. It nearly has me convinced that taking one less cookie tomorrow wouldn’t be such a bad thing.
I resist the temptation and slow down as I reach the Noel city limits. Arriving at my cabin a few minutes later, I unload the car and check on my Tineke plant. After giving her some water, I introduce her to her new siblings—a cheerful Pilea and a trailing Jade Pothos.
After heating up a can of soup for dinner, I make a cup of hot cocoa. I’m eager to get back to writing my script, and see where inspiration takes me. I even left my little Christmas tree set up by the fireplace hearth to keep me in the holiday mood.
I queue up some Christmas music and settle into my desk chair. The script slowly takes shape as I develop the story and characters. Renee, the female main character, is ambitious, charismatic, and tenacious—basically polar opposite from me. She buys a property in a town called Bethlehem, intending to turn it into a Christmas-themed bed-and-breakfast. Imagine her shock when she arrives and finds the town lacking Christmas cheer.
Sometimes our own lives provide the most accessible means of inspiration.
I know I’ve hit a stride writing when I glance up and over three hours have passed. I’ve filled in the details of Renee’s plans for the bed-and-breakfast, and I find myself wishing that it was a real place I could visit. I think that’s a good sign.
Leaning back in my chair, I stretch my hands overhead to pop my back. After a short soak in a bubble bath, I put on a pair of Christmas pajamas—it’s only fitting. I fall into bed with a smile on my face, feeling accomplished and encouraged.
Chirp!
I’d just dozed off when a noise jolts me out of slumberland. I prop up on my elbows, glancing around the room. After a fewseconds of intent listening, I lie back down, deciding I must have imagined it.
Chirp!
Now I know I’m not imagining things. I get out of bed and walk to the living room.
Chirp!
The sound has gotten louder and is coming from directly above me. Overhead, the smoke detector blinks with a low battery.
“Are you kidding me right now?!” I yell at the ceiling.
Flipping on the lights, I assess the situation. When I bought the cabin, I loved the way the vaulted ceiling made the tall, stone fireplace a statement fixture of the room. Having to change the battery in the smoke detector on that vaulted ceiling didnotcross my mind.
I pull over a bar stool and retrieve my broom from the closet. Perched atop the stool, I’m hoping I can at least hit some sort of silence button with the broom. Holding the broom up as high as possible, I’m still well short of the ceiling. Huffing a breath, I climb down and search for something to extend the reach of the broom.
Ten minutes later, my attempts at taping a coat hanger and a spatula to the end of the broomstick have proved unsuccessful. The consistentchirpof the smoke detector is mere centimeters away from the edge of my sanity. I’ll never be able to sleep like this.
My watch reads 11:15 p.m. I can’t bother Syd this late, not with two young kids. I know what I should do. I just don’t want to do it.
I groan.
Begrudgingly, I pull out my phone.
ME
Any chance you’re awake?
I hit send and wait. On the one hand, I hope he’s not awake and doesn’t answer, so I don’t have to cope with the mixed emotions of seeing him right now. On the other hand, my sanity.
McSCROOGE
