Page 9 of Grinch Girl

He threw up his hands. “No sign posted with the Wi-Fi info. Nobody pouring drinks.” He let out an exasperated huff. “No wonder this place is a dying shithole, right? The bar, the whole town.”

Strong words, stranger.Maybe I agreed, but I was allowed to think so because I lived here. He, however, could take his opinion and shove it straight up his ass.

The need for caffeine was real. I stood, put my palms on the bar, and boosted myself over it. Under the bar, Jim’s personalmini fridge had only one can of soda left. I made a mental note to replace it for him before the end of the day.

The stranger put his phone on the bar with an angry slap. “Are you kidding? Are you the bartender? You’ve just been sitting there ignoring me the whole time I’ve been here?”

I almost wanted to say yes. Because that haughty, entitled tone in his prettily accented voice made his face a prime candidate for a fist.

“I don’t work here,” I said flatly, although I did pick up shifts in the summers sometimes. “I just know the owner.”

The stranger cocked his head and considered me. Changed tactics. “Do you know him well enough to grab me a beer?” He smiled, and it changed his whole damn face. He went from haughty and bored to…zing! There was a teasing tone in his wry voice now, complimented by curved lips and a flash of white teeth. A knowing, flirtatious glint in his dark eyes.

Hmm. This was a person used to getting everything he wanted.

Too bad for him that I hated people like that.

Maybe I didn’t want a soda after all. Maybe I wanted something else. I slowly took a pint glass from the shelf and pulled a draft of Spotted Cow, all while making extreme eye contact with the stranger’s amused gaze.

But instead of sliding the beer over the bar, I walked around it, grabbed my laptop, and strolled slowly to Jim’s back office, enjoying an enormous gulp of the beer on my walk. I ignored hiswhat the helland called over my shoulder, “Enjoy your stay in our shithole town.”

*

At four, Carolshooed out her remaining customers and shut thedoor to everyone but the Small Business Association. I grabbed a fresh pot of coffee off the burner and filled everyone’s mugs. We were a tired and wired group this afternoon. Lots of manic energy and bloodshot eyes.

Diane took a grateful sip of the fresh coffee and smoothed one of many scarves. “Status check?”

Carol glanced out the window. Sounds of banging and buzzing could be heard clearly through the windows, and the smell of sawdust and oil was in the air. “I just spoke to the foreman. We’re actually ahead of schedule. The ice rink construction is almost done; they’ll be spraying the top layer tomorrow. If the weather stays as forecasted through the weekend, the Christmas Village will be built by end of day on Monday. Vendors and workers can report in on Tuesday, and we’ll open Wednesday.”

“Excellent!” Diane exclaimed. “Michael, what do you have?”

He shuffled some papers on the table. “Lots of eager participants. We’ll have five booths of craftspeople selling Christmas ornaments, stockings, and other handmade gifts.” He held up some stapled packets. “Tomorrow I’ll hand-deliver these agreements on space rental and profit splitting.”

Diane opened her mouth, looking like she was going to congratulate him, but Jim interrupted first, swiping a hand through his messy hair.

“Food and drink stalls will be ready for Wednesday night. There’ll be a stall with burgers and brats. One with cheese curds. The hot cocoa and Christmas cookies, obviously. I even got the guys who do the raclette sandwiches!” Oh man. My stomach growled audibly. “Kegs are ordered and…” he cleared his throat delicately “…permits have been applied for and backdated and approved.”

“Things are really coming together!” Carol said. “I spoke to the town and arranged special garbage pickup at the Villageevery day until January 2.” We all cooed appreciatively; that could not have been easy. “You think that was hard?” She scoffed. “Try finding a Santa Claus this time of year! I finally found one, but his hours are going to be unpredictable. He can’t sit there all month.”

She whipped out a notepad that had been empty this morning. She was now writing on a page close to the end. “I’ve got his wacky schedule here. We’ll need to publish it in the paper.” She snapped her gaze to me. “Oh, Jane! We’ll need you to create a website for the Village, of course—its hours, what will be offered, that kind of thing.”

I yawned so wide my jaw cracked. But she was right, and it wouldn’t take me all that long to stand up. “OK. Send me everything you’ve got about everything.” I spoke through another yawn. “I’ll get it done tonight.” Sean was watching the shop for me right now. I’d take over when we were done here and as I didn’t expect many customers, I’d have the time.

We talked through various logistics for another twenty minutes, and my respect for every person in the group grew by leaps and bounds. I saw them every single day and I’d never have expected them to be able to hustle like this.

Which sat uncomfortably in my stomach like a hot coal. Why had I been so eye-rollingly judgmental? They were just older versions of me, after all. Townies with well-developed survival skills.

“What have you got on the dating show front, Jane?” Carol finally asked. “Did you have good luck finding some contestants?”

Meh. “I have five contestants signed up so far.” I smiled and pointed at Diane. “One in this room.”

Carol and Michael burst into applause. “Wonderful!”

Diane curtseyed. “Well, I’ve always wanted to act.”

I bit my lip, wondering if I needed to explain the concept of reality TV again. Hell, though, Diane probably understood it better than me. Most reality TV show people were likely acting.

I knew that the real reason she’d opted to participate was that she was widely respected and liked within the community. Her commitment to it would show others that it was an OK thing to do.

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