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“Please tell your sister I’m ready for an interview any time she is,” said Barbara.
“Will do,” said Frankie. She would also suggest Stef look for other stories to cover instead of bothering with an interview with this year’s chairman.Who’s passive aggressive? Notmoi.
The discussion continued, with reports regarding arrangements to clear Main Street for the morning’s Santa parade, of the vendors and artists lined up for the market in the town square and, of course, Barbara had to pat herself on the back about bringing in the Dickens Carolers. “Always good to keep things fresh,” she said.
“Speaking of fresh, I think we should have a baking contest,” said Autumn. “Holiday cupcakes. Or gingerbread houses. We could display the entries all over town, and people could vote for their favorite.”
“That’s a lovely idea,” Barbara approved. “But it’s too late in the game for this year. You should have suggested it back when we were first brainstorming last spring.”
Autumn frowned and muttered, “It wouldn’t take that much effort.”
Way to encourage people, thought Frankie. “I think it’s a great idea, and we should for sure do it next year.”
“We can only fit in so many things,” Barbara said sternly. “Now, on to Santa and Mrs. Claus,” she said, shifting gears and smiling. “As you all know, Mitch Howard has agreed to be Santa again this year.”
Frankie smiled, anticipating that she would be announced as Mrs. Claus. She’d told the committee way back in their early planning stages that she’d be happy to continue her role.
“As for Mrs. Claus...”
Frankie tried to look humble.
“I think it would be good to give Frankie a break.”
What?Frankie’s humble smile got overtaken by a frown. “I said way back last spring I’d be happy to be Mrs. Claus.”
“Yes, but you’re so busy with the shop and your duties on the committee. We thought you could use a break.”
That again. “Who, exactly, thought that?” Frankie challenged.
“Anyway, we should give others an opportunity,” Barbara said, skirting her question. “I was talking with James...”
Poor James suddenly looked like he’d cut a finger with his hair shears.
“And we thought it would be fun to have a Mrs. Claus contest, let some of our women here in Carol compete for the honor.”
“How will you choose?” Frankie demanded.
“We’ll make it like a pageant,” Barbara answered.
So, no time for a baking contest, but time to find a replacement for Frankie. “What, you’re going to see who’s got the whitest hair?” she taunted.
Barbara ignored her. “We’ll have it Friday night, before the big day. Our Mrs. Claus contestants can campaign around town, and on the night of the pageant we’ll interview them, and everyone will vote.”
Autumn snapped her fingers. “Each entrant should have to bake something and display it at the pageant. A gingerbread house! That can be part of the competition.”
“There you go,” said Barbara graciously. “We can work in some holiday baking after all.”
Hazel was looking at Frankie in concern. “What do you think, Frankie?” she asked.
Frankie forced a smile. “I think it’s a great idea.”
And really, it was. She had no problem campaigning. She’d get Natalie to help her with the gingerbread house, and...
“But committee members should not be eligible to enter,” said Barbara, the mind reader. “That way it will be fair and unbiased.”
No, that way Barbara would make sure Frankie wouldn’t be Mrs. Claus. Frankie forced her clenched jaw to loosen so she could smile as she wished all manner of holiday disasters on her nemesis.May your Christmas tree fall on you. May you eat raw cookie dough and get sick. May your latest ex start dating a Victoria’s Secret model and post it all over social media. May you find a snake in your Christmas stocking.
Oh, wait. The snake would be the one hanging the stocking.
