Page 64 of Saved By Noel
The first week of October, Sydney comes to visit me in KC. She’s been hired by James to decorate the tiny cabins used by float trip vacationers in the summer. Each cabin will have a different Christmas decor theme, hopefully drawing even more people to drive to Noel and stay a few days for the festival. Madison knows all the best thrift stores that put out Christmas decor early, and she’s going to help Syd find good deals—even though Sydney said she has a healthy budget.
“Where did the money for the festival supplies come from?” Madison asks Syd as we wait in line for our coffees.
“Ya know, I’m not sure,” Syd replies, brow furrowed. “Clark said he found some funding to get the festival kicked off. I didn’t think to ask questions—I figured there were some mayor strings he pulled to get a grant from the state or something.”
Six hours later, all three of our cars are filled to the brim with Christmas decorations. We found what we could thrifting and then hit up some of the big home decor stores. Ranging fromtraditional red and green, to more modern whimsical colors and patterns, Syd has plenty of material to work with. I’ll have to plan a trip to Noel with Dad’s truck to get the rest of the supplies to Syd. There’s no way it will all fit in her car, and she needs to start decorating soon so James can take photos and get the cabins listed on the rental website.
That night, I take Syd to one of my favorite Kansas City barbecue restaurants for dinner, making sure she orders the Z-man sandwich with extra crispy fries. She’s moaning over her bite of food, and I try to inquire about Clark nonchalantly.
“So, how has Clark been holding up with the invasion of Christmas?”
She shrugs and swallows. “He acts reluctant about it all, but I think he’s secretly enjoying it. He even agreed to rename the town ‘No-el’ for the duration of the festival, per your suggestion. I’m no psychologist, but I suspect that planning the Christmas event is helping him work through some of his childhood trauma from his dad’s disapproval.”
I nod and bite a French fry rather than responding.
“I honestly still don’t understand why he won’t admit that he likes you, though,” Syd adds before taking another giant bite of her sandwich.
“Syd!” I exclaim, cheeks on fire.
“What?! I’m just speaking the truth! I know Clark’s not naturally one to open up to relationships, but his avoidance of his feelings for you seems over the top—even for his vulnerability issues,” Syd says. “It’s obvious to everyone that y’all like each other.”
I bury my face in my hands. “Who’s everyone?”
“Paul, Emily, James, Becky, Pops, us, obviously,” Syd replies, ticking off the names with her fingers. She adds with a grin, “Literally anyone who has ever watched the two of you interact for even a millisecond.”
Now I drop my head fully into my arms on the table, groaning.
“I’m not trying to embarrass you,” Syd says, patting my arm. I look up and raise an eyebrow at her. She laughs. “Okay,sometimesI try to embarrass you, but I promise I’m not this time. I’m simply letting you know that I sincerely don’t know what his deal is. I’m on your side here.”
“There are no sides, Syd,” I say. “I’m trying to stay focused on my full-time job while also helping make this festival amazing. I’m tryingnotto worry about what probably won’t happen with Clark.”
“I hope your movie script is also on your to-do list,” Syd says. “How’s that coming? When can I read it?”
I take a bite of my sandwich to buy time before answering. “It’s coming. I swear I’m making progress. But I’m not sure when I’ll be ready for anyone to read it. In fact, I may not ever let anyone read this first script. I might use it as practice but then try a new storyline.”
I’m too afraid that my feelings for Clark not-so-subtly woven into the script will be displayed for everyone to decipher.
“What?! Unfair!” Syd whines. “I’m giving you a deadline—I expect to see that script by the end of the year, or I’ll speak with Becky and remove your coffee privileges.”
I gasp. “You’d never!”
Syd quirks an eyebrow. “Girl, you know I would. Get me that script!”
Chapter thirty-six
Clark
Ican see it on my tombstone now:Here lies Clark Noel. Killed by Noel.
The past few months have stretched me outside of my comfort zone so much, I think I’ve surely reached my lifetime allotment of growth zone minutes. I want nothing more than to retreat to my old, quiet routines—complete my handyman jobs, attend to mayoral duties, return home to laid-back evenings with Chase. Make occasional contact with a small handful of friends.
Instead, my life has been a revolving door of people. Townspeople, suppliers, journalists, Christmas enthusiasts. My office and spare bedroom are slowly filling with Christmas decor, a constant reminder of the chaos on the horizon.
I think I’ve developed an ulcer.
On the flip side, I have to admit that preparations are running more smoothly than I expected. Clara’s dad had lots of practical suggestions to streamline the event. He helped me think through logistics that never would have crossed my mind—parking, restrooms, traffic flow. The town is buzzing with anticipation, everyone looking for ways to pitch in. Beau even reached outto ask if he and his family could come back and help with the festival setup.
I’ve spent many a late night sitting alone or with Davis, mapping out ideals and contingency plans. I’ve scoured the websites and social media of every similar event I could find.
