“Why on earth not? He’s such a lovely young man, so accomplished and thoughtful.”
Yeah, and gorgeous and successful with his big city life. Why would he want to get dragged into the Everdale Falls Christmas Festival planning?
Suddenly, the pieces fell into place. This meant either Matt had volunteered us both without asking, or Declan felt obligatedto help manage his best friend’s disaster of a sister in his sudden work-related absence that went down like a ton of bricks with the folks late last night. Either option made me want to crawl under the kitchen table and stay there until Christmas was over.
“I can’t do this,” I said, reaching for my phone. “I need to call Matt and get out of this.”
“Holly Marie Winters, you are not getting out of anything.” Mom’s voice carried the tone that had convinced me to apologize to Tommy Morrison for kicking him in the shins in third grade, even though he’d definitely deserved it. “This festival is important to our community, and you’re exactly what it needs.”
“I’m exactly what it needs to be a complete disaster,” I corrected. “Mom, I just got fired after being evicted because my ex-boyfriend stole all my money. I am not in the headspace to organize a community festival.”
“You organized your entire sorority’s formal events in college. You planned Matt’s graduation party for sixty people and managed every detail perfectly. You coordinated that charity auction that raised twelve thousand dollars.” Mom sat down across from me with the expression of someone preparing for battle. “Getting fired from one job doesn’t erase every competent thing you’ve ever done.” She pointedly ignored the rest of my woes.
“But working with Declan?—”
“Will be lovely. He’s home for the holidays, probably looking for ways to keep himself occupied, and you need something positive to focus on.”
The casual way she said it made my chest tight with embarrassment. Something positive to focus on. Like I was a problem that needed managing instead of an adult woman capable of handling her own life.
“I don’t need a pity project, Mom.”
“This isn’t pity, sweetheart. This is Jessica Peterson recognizing that you have skills the festival needs.” Mom reached across the table to squeeze my hand.
I wanted to argue, but the truth was that beneath the panic and embarrassment, there was a tiny spark of something that might have been interest. The Everdale Falls Christmas Festival was a big deal—three days of vendors, entertainment, and community celebration that drew visitors from surrounding towns. If I could pull it off successfully, it would prove that getting fired, evicted and duped wasn’t a reflection of my actual abilities.
But working with Declan...
“When is the first planning meeting?” I asked reluctantly.
“Today at two o’clock. Jessica wants to brief you both on the basics, and then you’ll take over from there.”
Today. As in, six hours from now. As in, barely enough time to have a complete nervous breakdown and then pull myself together enough to appear competent in front of the man who represented everything I’d failed to achieve.
“I need to call Matt,” I said, grabbing my phone with desperate determination.
The call went straight to voicemail. I tried again. Voicemail. I sent a text in caps lock, so he knew I meant business:CALL ME IMMEDIATELY. EMERGENCY.
Nothing.
I tried his work number, his personal cell, and even his office landline, which he never answered. Every call went to voicemail, and every text disappeared into the void of whatever crisis was consuming his attention in Boston.
“He’s probably in meetings,” Mom said gently. “You know how demanding his job is.”
“This is his fault,” I sulked, staring at my phone like I could will it to ring. “The least he could do is answer when I need to panic at him.”
“Maybe he knew you’d try to talk yourself out of something good for you.”
Call me paranoid, but that sounded suspiciously like they were plotting against me.
I spent the next three hours alternating between trying to reach Matt and spiraling into increasingly dramatic mental scenarios about how badly I was going to embarrass myself in front of Declan. By one o’clock, I’d convinced myself that Mrs. Peterson had chosen me as some kind of charity case, that Declan had found out and volunteered out of pity, and that I was going to prove my professional incompetence to the entire town.
Which brought me to the current crisis: what to wear to a festival planning meeting with the most successful person I knew, while I was masquerading as a total loser.
I stood in front of my childhood closet, now filled with my adulthood wardrobe, trying to find something that said I was a competent professional rather than a recently homeless and fired failure living with her parents, while trying to look cozy at the same time.
Everything was either too professional, screamed job interview desperation, or gave up on life entirely to live in sweats.
I finally settled on dark jeans, ankle boots, a blue blouse and a soft gray cardigan that looked put-together without trying too hard. Dignified but approachable. Competent but not overdressed for a small-town festival meeting.
