Hettie Mae snorted. “Or invigorating, if you open yourself to the possibilities.”
He eyed her doubtfully. “If you say so.”
“If you’re not too overwhelmed by the novelty of the topic, I can tell you why his article went viral.”
Donald squared his shoulders, as if readying himself for an ordeal. “Very well. Infect me.”
“It’s caused quite an uproar, I can tell you.” She whipped out her phone and the members of the reading group —they were up to six people now —inched closer to listen.
After a few taps, Hettie cleared her throat. “Here’s the title: ‘Christmas Is Thoroughly Terrible.’”
The group gasped.
“He saidwhat?”one of them said. “AboutChristmas?”
“Here’s how the essay begins: ‘Many of you will hate what I’m about to state. Many of you will become upset. But what I’m saying needs saying. Christmas is expensive, boring, and needs a complete overhaul.’”
There were indrawn breaths. “Oh, dear,” Donald said.
“His next sentence is even better: ‘For the sake of us all, we must fix the holiday immediately.’”
A member of the group spoke up. “Hettie, there’s nothing ‘better’ about that sentence.”
“Oh, shush. There’s a lot more —the article is quite thorough. He tells us how much money is spent on Christmas —average consumer spending, retail sales, all sorts of numbers. The fellow did his research, I’ll give him that. He brings up thedifficulties that can arise with shopping and travel.” She glanced over at Penny. “Here’s a quote: ‘The holiday season is an utter nightmare for retailers, who are forced to scramble for a huge chunk of their annual sales in a compressed window of time.’”
Penny shook her head. “Christmas is definitely my busiest time of the year, but that’s not how I feel about the holiday season.”
“Of course not, dear,” Hettie Mae replied. “The poor man doesn’t understand the meaning of Christmas. He’s missing the point entirely. What saddens me most is how ‘bored’ he says he isby Christmas. Here’s a quote, to give you a taste: ‘The rituals are cloying, tedious, and hollow.’”
“Oh, dear,” Donald murmured.
“Quite disappointing, I must say. After reading his book, which I greatly enjoyed, I expected more.”
“More what?”
“More insight, more generosity, more understanding.”
A member of the group, a quiet woman named Sylvie, spoke up. “You said something about an uproar?”
“Oh, dear, yes. People are quite upset, the TV people in particular, andyou know how animated they get. There’s even talk of a boycott.”
“Oh, my. Boycotts aren’t good.”
“Not good at all. His publisher and agent have issued apologies, but no one seems to care whattheyhave to say. Everyone’s waiting to hear fromhim.”
Donald’s frown returned. “What do you mean, they’re waiting to hear fromhim?”
“Since the article came out,” Hettie Mae said, shaking her head with disapproval, “he hasn’t said a word.”
“Not a single word?”
“Nary a peep. Despite getting chased everywhere by journalists. It’s becoming a bit of a sport —seeing how fast hecan flee. Every reporter wants to be the one who corners him and gets him to crack.”
“That’s not good.”
“A new video came out this morning.” Hettie Mae tapped her phone. “Here he is. In front of his apartment building in New York. Outrunning a horde of reporters.”
Everyone crowded around and watched a brown-haired man step out of an apartment building, squeeze through a camera-wielding crowd, and dash away at high speed.
