Page 13 of Mistletoe & Mischief
“No! I really love hearing about her,” Maya said. “It’s hard to believe I’m just a few miles away from her, and I can’t even meet her. It hurts.”
Brad took another bite of cheesecake and leaned further over the table as though he wanted to be as close to Maya as possible. “Did they say anything about her health?”
“They hope she’ll be up for visitors by next week,” Maya explained. “I hope, by then, I’ll be able to tell her I put on a brilliant festival.”
“You will,” Brad assured her. He bent down to unzip his backpack and procured a big notebook, where he’d written a list of to-dos for the Christmas Festival. “Let’s get into it,” he said, rubbing his palms together. “Normally, the festival goes from Saturday to Sunday. It begins at noon on both days and features food stalls and trucks, wine and beer tents, and three stages where local bands, theater groups, and choirs perform Christmas-themed shows. On Sunday, there’s a parade from one end of the town to the other. Normally, the marching band and the ballet are involved, as are several companies, who drive cars and floats behind the band.”
Maya’s head spun. “This sounds like a lot.”
“Don’t worry,” Brad said. “I already called a few of the companies today to check-in. All four of them had already started on the decorations for their floats. Well, one of them just still has the float from last year in their garage, so they’re going to repurpose it.”
Maya laughed. “That’s easy.”
“Isn’t it? See, the thing about the Christmas Festival is that it’s just a time to bring all the residents together,” Brad explained. “It doesn’t have to be too special or too fancy. It just has to happen.”
Maya took several notes on her phone, deciding to call the marching band and ballet directors that evening, approach a few businesses tomorrow, and make sure the theater troupe was still up for a Charlie Brown Christmas performance, which they apparently performed every year.
“Everything will fall into place,” Brad assured her. “We just have to hustle.”
Maya had never been spoken to with such tenderness before, not by any man in her life. She set down her phone and took a tentative bite of her chocolate tart. Outside, the light had fallen away completely, casting them in the inky night. The streetlamps glowed from here all the way down Main Street, and Christmas lights were strung from one building to the next. She checked the time. It was, impossibly, seven. The coffee shop was about to close.
“Where did the time go?” Maya asked.
“I don’t know, honestly.” Brad laughed.
Maya held the silence for a moment. Her chest thrummed with expectation.
“Should we meet tomorrow to go over what you manage to finish tomorrow?” Brad asked.
“Yes!” Maya winced at how excited she sounded. “I mean, that sounds good. Really good.”
Brad smiled. “Wonderful. Now, let’s get out of here before Cynthia kicks us to the curb.”
Brad paid Cynthia for their cakes and coffee, leaving a twenty-five percent tip. Nick had only ever left fifteen, tops. Maya forced herself not to swoon.
ChapterSix
Maya’s first meeting the following morning was with the marching band director of the local high school. The man was in his late fifties and wore a polo shirt with the words “Hollygrove Marching Irish” stitched into the left breast. As soon as she entered his office, he handed her a big donut heavy with vanilla cream, filled a large mug with coffee, and said, “We’ve been practicing Christmas marches for weeks. I was terrified we’d have to throw a parade ourselves. The kids look forward to it every year.”
Maya laughed. “I’m so glad you’re in!” She took an enormous bite of donut, coating her lips with powdered sugar. Vanilla cream burst across her tongue. As soon as she chewed and swallowed, she managed, “You’re making my life so much easier. Tell me. Do you always start from the same location every year?”
“We do. We lead the rest of the parade,” he explained. “From the courthouse, through downtown. We always make a loop near the high school, march past the elementary school, and return via Hollygrove Way. The entire parade lasts about two hours.” He rifled through a folder on the desk to procure a map and a list of typical parade attendees. “If you like, I can make a few phone calls this morning,” he said, “just to confirm to them that the parade is on. Since we do it every year, it’s like pressing ‘play’ and letting it roll.”
Maya’s heart swelled with appreciation. “You’d really do that?”
The band director closed his folder and beamed at her. “You look a little like your aunt, you know that? I mean, you look the way I remember her looking when I was a boy. She’s gotten older, like the rest of us.”
Maya’s cheeks burned. She didn’t feel up to telling anyone else that she’d never met Veronica before. It was too embarrassing.
“She’s been the heart and soul of the Christmas Festival for decades,” the band director continued. “As you know, she’s an accomplished musician. She’s helped me time and again during orchestra season. She even wrote a few pieces for us a couple of years back.” He clucked his tongue sadly. “When I heard how sick she was, it broke my heart. You’re doing a good thing here, stepping in to help her out.”
Maya filled her mouth with bitter coffee. She hadn’t known her aunt was a musician, but it didn’t surprise her. It seemed she was related to a powerhouse human, the sort of woman who could do anything. She’d even kicked her cheating husband to the curb without a dime to his name. The story felt impossible to Maya, who currently had no money— and had been kicked to the curb by her own cheating boyfriend. It felt as though Veronica had learned a secret about the world that Maya had never been allowed to know.
The rest of the morning continued in the same vein. Maya streamed in and out of businesses, dance studios, and community groups, delivering relevant information about the festival and parade and receiving, in turn, more memories of her Aunt Veronica. The owner of the grocery store, who’d decided to sell pies again at the festival this year, said that Aunt Veronica once operated the grocery store for an entire month when he had surgery on his leg. The principal of the middle school said that Veronica had donated so much money for a brand-new swimming pool that they’d tried to name the swimming pool after her— but she hadn’t allowed them to. The theater troupe organizer imparted a story about Veronica’s playwriting capabilities, telling Maya that Veronica could have made it big in London or New York if she’d wanted to. “But she wanted to stay here, in Hollygrove.”
As the day wore on, the Christmas Festival took form. Maya kept in constant contact with Brad, texting him after each of her successful meetings.
MAYA: I can’t believe how easy everyone in Hollygrove is to work with.
