Page 58 of Saved By Noel
“Clark, we’re Christmas lovers. Cheesy is the name of our game.”
He groans again and buries his head in his hands, elbows propped on the counter. I smile smugly, knowing I’ve won. Glancing victoriously over at Becky, I see an amused expression on her face as her eyes bounce back and forth between Clark and me.
“Just give me a task to do,” Clark demands. “I’m not going back out there.”
“But this is my favorite of the three movies! All ofThe Nutcrackerreferences—it’s the perfect Christmas movie,” I gush.
“Wait a second,” Clark muses. “Clara . . . you’re named afterThe Nutcracker? You literally have a Christmas name?”
My cheeks burn, but I raise my chin. “So?”
“This explains so much.”
“I come from a long line of Christmas enthusiasts, okay?” I say as Clark throws his head back in a laugh. “Becky, give the man a task, will you?”
Becky sets us both to work steaming milk extra hot as she pulls espresso shots. We mix large pitchers of the various drinks,carefully following her recipes, then pour them into stainless steel carafes to keep them hot.
“What scene is the movie on?” I ask Clark as I twist the lid on the final carafe.
“I told you, I’m not going out there again,” he responds, defiantly crossing his arms.
I roll my eyes. “Fine, I’ll go check, Scrooge.”
“I am not Scrooge. I’m just not Buddy the Elf,” Clark harrumphs.
“Whatever you tell yourself.” I pause to pat his arm as I walk past him and immediately regret it.Well, now I know what my imagination will fixate on tonight. Clark’s insultingly firm biceps coupled with his sandalwood scent.
Shaking off the zing of attraction, I peek my head into the main room to gauge how much time is left in the first movie. Returning to the kitchen, I tell Becky we have about ten minutes. She tests her whipped cream dispenser and triple checks the various sprinkle toppings assembled.
With about five minutes to go, Clark and I start carefully pouring drinks into the sample cups, and Becky follows behind, adding the embellishments. Moments later, a wave of Noel residents floods the room, ready for a jolt of caffeine. I’m delighted to overhear snippets of conversations—excited voices bouncing ideas for the festival from the first movie.
This is really going to work!
Several hours later, I’m standing at the front of the room again, dry erase marker in hand. People are calling out ideas faster than I can write them down.
“Why don’t we have a ‘Santa’s Workshop’ store where people can sell their handmade goods? Pearl’s pottery would sell like hotcakes!”
“I loved all the strands of twinkle lights draped between the poles.”
“I enjoy arranging flowers—I could fill some barrel stands for the poles with some nice evergreen arrangements!”
“We should have some Christmas carolers!”
“And plenty of photo ops with different themes!”
“I think we should have a small Living Nativity scene—make sure to remember the reason for the season.”
“What about a place to write letters to Santa with a cute mailbox?”
“Ooo, a whole craft station for kids would be wonderful!”
My hand is cramping, but my smile is wide as I finish writing down everyone’s ideas. We quickly star the best ones that are feasible to pull off in Noel, and everyone seems intoxicated by the anticipation in the air.
I stand there in front of the townspeople of Noel, scanning their faces as they stand up and converse on the way to the riverside for dinner. I’m positively beaming.
Glancing down at Clark still seated in the front row, I catch him staring up at me with a small smile. He notices my eye contact and drops the sides of his mouth along with his eyes. But not before I saw the warmth in those hazel greens. A warmth that spreads right through me in an already overheated room.
I came into today convincing myself that nothing was ever going to happen between Clark and me. Convincing myself to guard my heart and focus solely on helping the town. But that look in Clark’s eyes is doing a fairly effective job of unconvincing me.
