Page 68 of Saved By Noel
Every high schooler in town is now making bank working odd jobs. They’re taking pictures at the photo ops, supervising children as they write and decorate letters to Santa, cleaning up trash, and wrapping gifts sold by the local artisans. The kids who are selling their artwork can’t even man the booth themselves—they’ve been working around the clock creating more to keep the booth stocked.
Beau and Abby are here this weekend helping out. They’d planned on bringing their kids, but my SOS text prompted them to come unattached in order to pitch in where needed. Becky’s been delighted to have Abby’s help in addition to Clara’s with her coffee drinks, and they make much better assistants than I did.
I’m hoping the combination of the Christmas festival, plus the impending factory jobs, might entice Beau to move his family back to Noel. He’s hinted at how much they’ve missed the town, and I spouted off a long list of reasons why they should move back. The energy of the festival seems to be working in my favor on that front.
Although my DNA predisposed me to be opposed to this whole spectacle, I understand it now.
Clara was right.
It somewhat hurts to admit it, but her lack of lording the fact over me has made it easier to acknowledge. She’s been 100 percent beaming and delighted all week, without a hint of “I told you so” energy.
It’s only making it agonizingly harder to keep her at arm’s length. That stupid tether around my heart is beginning to feel like a noose—the more I struggle against it, the tighter it pulls.
But I won’t risk hurting Clara’s heart by letting things progress beyond friendship between us. Being with me wouldn’t be fair toher. Even if I like her—even if I might love her—she deserves a man who needs her. And that’s not me. It won’t ever be me.
Late Saturday night, I open my front door only to be bowled over by a whining, energetic Chase. After a quick trip outside, he comes back in and stays plastered to my side as I heat up some dinner.
“I know, boy. I’m sorry you’ve been alone all week. I’m trying to think of a way for you to come to the festival without getting in the way,” I tell him, stroking behind his ears.
As if she’d secretly wiretapped my house, a text from Clara comes through.
CLARA
Been thinking about how to let Chase come with you to the festival. He must be miserable at home alone! Do you think he’d be content to sit in Santa’s Workshop with Pops while he whittles live for people to observe? I talked Pops into the idea.
ME
It’s worth a shot. Let’s try it tomorrow and see how he does.
Of course, she talked Pops into the idea. I’m becoming convinced Clara could talk a cattle rancher into going vegan. Still, the thought fills my chest with warmth. Pops has been living with a second wind the past few months, faithfully taking his medication and even doing some of the exercises suggested by the physical therapist.
That alone is enough to make me want to kiss Clara—aside from all the thousands of things aboutherthat make me want to kiss her.
After eating a quick dinner, I fall into bed at 11:00 p.m. Sleep overtakes me, and I dream of Clara’s face softly lit by the glow of Christmas lights.
We have a special line-up of activities planned for each weekend night of the festival. It was Syd’s idea, meant to encourage people to book entire weekends at the cabins. There’s a miniature parade down Main Street on Friday nights, and Saturdays boast a Rockettes-inspired performance by the high school dance team plus carolers singing Christmas favorites.
On each Sunday at dusk, we'll make a big show of packaging up all the week’s letters to Santa in burlap bags and loading them into a canoe. Syd convinced Davis to dress up as an elf—a sight I literally paid her to see—and he’ll paddle the canoe down river. As darkness settles, we’ll time fireworks to go off from a nearby dock, giving the illusion that the letters were rocketed off to the North Pole.
Tonight will be our first run at the letters send-off, and I’m crossing my fingers that everything goes off without a hitch. Or a fire.
When I arrive at the festival grounds with Chase at 9:00 a.m., Syd, Clara, and Abby are already there with Becky, prepping drink mixes. I make my way over to check on Becky’s supply stock.Notto see Clara. Chase, on the other hand, sprints right to her.
“Morning, ladies. Becky, you need any supplies ordered today?” I ask, not missing the sweet smile Clara gives me.
“I already made a big order of syrups yesterday, and Emily’s bringing more milk and cream by later. But we’ll probably need another order of cups and sleeves. I’ll let you know at the end of the day what needs to be restocked,” Becky responds.
Clara squirts whipped cream into a small cup and holds it down for Chase to lap up. Becky and Syd stare at me with raised eyebrows, knowing the “Do Not Feed the Dog” rule I impose on everyone. Everyone except Clara, apparently. I look away, not giving them the satisfaction of a reaction. That doesn’t stop their very satisfied smiles, however.
I whistle for Chase to follow me as I walk the grounds, making sure everything is in order for the day. Townspeople slowly arrive to man the various stations, and everyone I talk to mentions how encouraged they are by the energy of the festival. I walk Chase back to the gift shop to sit with Pops before things get too chaotic. Pops promises to call me if Chase gets out ofhand. But I have a feeling Chase will be on his best behavior if it means not being cooped up at home.
The weather is chilly without being truly cold, especially once the crowds start to fill in after lunch. The Letters to Santa tent is constantly chaotic with a never-ending supply of children coming through. I’m sent on multiple restock runs to my office and to Noland’s for more craft supplies.
I’m so busy keeping everything running smoothly, it feels like no time at all before the sunlight is sinking away. An announcement over the loudspeaker encourages families to gather at the river front for the ceremonial Letters to Santa send-off.
I head in that direction with Chase, happily surprised when Clara bumps my shoulder and falls into step beside me. Chase gives her a small bark in greeting.
“Seems like things are going well so far,” she remarks.
