Page 1 of The Christmas Blueprint

Chapter One

“Sophia Gonzales.” MayorJeffrey Bane’s voice hardened on the Z of her name but drew out the last syllable with the ripe pity Sophia had come to hate over the last eighteen months. The hiss of the S lingered as if he couldn’t even be bothered to hide his snake nature. And why should he? His family was one of the largest land owners in the Rogue Valley—maybe all of Southern Oregon. They’d perched ensconced, swallowing up land like a ravenous beast since before Oregon was a state.

He pulled her application out of a glossy navy leather binder with the city’s gold embossed seal on it.

“You may rise,” he said.

“Does he also expect a curtsey?” her best friend Riley Flanagan muttered beside her.

Sophia bit back her smile. Jeffrey probably wouldn’t blink if she swooped low. For a moment, temptation whispered. But no. She was serious about wanting to be on the five-person city planning commission after an unexpected resignation created an opening. Bear Creek was her town, and she loved it and her community. She wanted them both to thrive.

Jeffrey loved Bear Creek only as it served his need to be important.

Sophia stood and took two steps forward.

“Questions, Mayor Bane?” she asked, raising one eyebrow and letting a soft smile play around her lips, hoping she looked confident instead of snarky. She could hear Riley’s eye roll behind her.

He blinked. And Sophia wiggled her toes in her Frye boots—less of a tell than clenching her fists. The arrogant idiot had read her application, hadn’t he? He and the town council couldn’t flatly reject her now that she’d finally figured out a way to forever step out of the role of grieving fiancée everyone—even Riley—had cast her in.

“I want the position on the city planning commission.” Sophia took another step forward.

“Temporary position,” Jeffrey snapped, making city council member Jennifer Nevens grimace.

“Yes, I understand that all the planning commissioners are up for reappointments for a two-year term in May,” Sophia said, wondering how much mayoral ring kissing the four members looking at her curiously had to do to keep their appointments. “I love Bear Creek. I’ve lived here all my life. My family, like yours, is seventh-generation Oregonian. We have lived and farmed and worked in the Rogue Valley since before Oregon was a state. I own a business in town and volunteer in the Entrepreneur Pathways Program at Bear Creek High School. I am a member of the chamber of commerce and president of the Bear Creek Shop Local marketing group. I have also been on the Bear Creek Festival and Market Committee, which, as you know, plans and runs the farmer’s market spring through autumn and also organizes the Christmas Market.”

Jeffrey looked…there was no other word for it than pissy. His mouth pursed and moved up and down like he wanted to interrupt her as she listed her civic involvement. He closed his fancy binder with her application inside.

“The Christmas Market that was nearly a nonstarter after so much time and effort had been expended and so much council time had been wasted hearing about your little organization’s petitions,” he drawled, leaning on one armrest of his massive, winged chair, forefinger to his temple.

“The one-hundred-year storm washing out the covered bridge and toppling trees crushing a corner of the covered structure in River Bend Park was hardly the committee’s fault,” Sophia said softly, not breaking eye contact even as anger stirred in her belly.

Of course he would seize on one perceived flaw—an act of God—and judge.

“But we found a new venue for the Christmas Market last year, and it was a success,” she reminded him. “And when the city council refused to repair the bridge even though it was listed on the state’s historic register, the committee privately raised funds and received government grants to fund repairs for the bridge and the covered structure in the park.”

The four planning commissioners, to the left and behind the mayor, stared at her, and Sophia had the impression they thought she should run while she still had the chance. The three city council members looked…worried.

“Another point in favor of my application,” she bulldozed through, “my business on Main Street has been opened—”

“Yes, yes, yes,” he interrupted, not looking at her. “Your little art store.” He made art sound like a curse.

“It’s a boutique featuring local artisans,” Sophia said softly. “You came to my store once last year and purchased a hand-loomed alpaca shawl for your mother, a hand-pressed selection of infused olive oils for your grandmother, and a saxophone turned sconce light for your—” her pause was deliberate “—man cave.”

She said the two words neutrally, but Riley barely restrained her snort. Sophia had known that would amuse Riley. She’d been indignant that Jeffrey, the bane of her existence in high school—pun always intended—had purchased one of her creations.

“Media and entertainment room,” he said coldly.

“My apologies,” she said sweetly. Did he have any idea how weak he looked? Pity stirred. It was as sad as it was unfathomable that Jeffrey Bane, who was wealthy, educated, connected, and handsome in a preppy pretty-boy way, could be so insecure that he’d have to snatch power in every situation. He wasn’t smooth or subtle, just desperate.

Did she really want to work with him more closely?

No.

But did she want to help Bear Creek rise above its reputation as a drive-by town on the way to Ashland and bloom into its full economic potential? Absolutely. And until someone harnessed the resources and gumption to challenge Jeffrey Bane for the position of mayor, any improvement to Bear Creek had to get his stamp of approval by manipulating the city planning commission, as the city council mostly acted as a Bane Enterprises rubber stamp.

“Mayor Bane,” Sophia said, “I have long been involved in this town, as have you.” She’d worked hard. He’d been appointed. “When we were teenagers, we worked side by side with my brothers and so many others to create the trail that runs along Bear Creek as part of Eagle Scout projects and the worthy Save Bear Creek program.”

His father had started that, but it had been a ham-handed attempt to divert the creek from local farmers to instead create a lake, around which the Banes had property where they’d planned to build resorts. The state’s environmental commission had stepped in when local farmers, including her parents and grandparents, had protested that it would leave many farmers without access to water.

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