Page 49 of The Christmas Fix
Flashes of teeth and tongues and hands played on a disjointed track through his aching head. And he was hard again. Annoyed, Noah adjusted himself. He couldn’t remember the last time a fantasy had gotten him in its grips like this.
He picked up his gym bag, slung his messenger bag over his shoulder, and grabbed his to go mug.
For better or worse, he was ready for the day.
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An hour split between trying not to vomit on the treadmill and free weights, another cup of coffee and a bagel from Reggie’s temporary stand, and Noah found himself in his office still swamped in thoughts of last night. Was Cat really the woman Drake and Henry painted her to be? If she was, did that make his physical attraction to her less shocking?
He shook the mouse to wake up his desktop computer. As it lumbered into functionality, he put his voicemail box on speakerphone. He was into his fourth message when he realized he’d zoned out again and had to replay them from the beginning.
Noah forced himself to focus, taking careful notes the second time through. Then came the ocean of emails that washed into his inbox every morning like the tide. Along with the standard city manager stuff, now he was awash in media requests to comment on the Christmas special and the town’s recovery. Then there was the recovery itself. Email chains dragged back and forth between himself and dozens of other government officials, private contractors, and nonprofits.
It was his first major disaster in Merry and hopefully his last.
He opened his calendar on the computer. Today he had a meeting with the water and sewer authority and the council meeting. He needed to update his budget report and was thankful that they were at least seeing some immediate cash from the rental of the old high school. When all of this was said and done, he wanted to give some serious thought to permanently leasing the building.
A calendar alert on his phone popped up. Sara had a geography test today. He typed out a text wishing her luck, adding that he hoped she’d studied. He paused, thought better of it, and then deleted the fatherly warning, replacing it with an invitation for ice cream later. His stomach, still recovering from wings and way too much beer, rolled over at the thought. But Sara would enjoy it, so he’d pray he could leave his indigestion and poor choices behind him by the time she got out of school.
“Good morning, Mr. Yates!” Carolanne, his part-time assistant since he started as city manager seven years ago, looked as though she’d studied 1950s secretary fashion and planned her look accordingly. Her hair, a not-found-in-nature red, was teased into a bouffant that added another three inches to her petite five-feet-one-inch. Today she wore a yellow and black dress with a ribbon around her middle. She resembled a bumble bee, the way she buzzed into his office carting the mail.
“Morning, Carolanne,” Noah said, wincing at the volume of her tone. He rubbed his forehead and wished he’d thought to down an aspirin or seven before leaving the house. Humming some Christmas carol, she set about firing up the ancient coffee pot and opening the envelopes and packages with exuberance.
Noah rubbed his temples and considered throwing up.
There was a knock that had him opening one eye.
“Good morning, Noah!” Rubin Turnbar and Imani Greene, two of the most excitable town council members, practically skipped into Noah’s office.
“Morning. What can I do for you two?” Noah asked, hoping he didn’t look as hungover as he felt.
Rubin and Imani shared a conspiratorial look. They were an odd pairing, a drycleaner owner and a dance instructor with a twenty-year age difference between them. Rubin and his wife were staunch conservatives in every sense of the word, but he’d bonded with Imani and her pottery-making wife. The foursome enjoyed a weekly dinner together in town where they brainstormed ways to make Merry even merrier.
“Well,” Imani began gleefully. “Since the Reno and Realty Network seems to be picking up the tab for a lot of the cleanup and renovations around town, Rubin and I would like to put these back on the table for discussion.”
She handed Noah a printout and he found himself staring at a pole mounted light up reindeer.Rudolph just wouldn’t die.
Noah had yet to break it to the council that the five-foot snowflakes that had adorned Merry’s downtown streetlamps for the last fifteen years had met their bitter end in three feet of mud and icy water.
“These are five hundred dollars apiece,” Noah noted. Doing the math made the dull throb of his headache even worse.
“A bargain,” Rubin nodded enthusiastically. Clearly the man didn’t know what bargain meant.
“They’re LED,” Imani said, tapping the picture with a long purple fingernail.
“And the noses light up red,” Rubin announced.
Oh, well then. That’s worth the fifteen-grand right there,Noah thought miserably.
“They are certainly festive,” Noah agreed, clearing his throat. “How about you leave this with me, and I’ll look into them?” he suggested.
“Sure thing,” Rubin agreed.
“Question,” Imani added. “Do you know if the show plans to do the downtown window competition?”
Noah rubbed his forehead. “I can check on that and get back to you.”
“Great! Because my students came up with the perfect idea for a mural,” Imani chirped.
