“Will Sherry be judging the Upcycle Christmas event again?” Beatrice asks.
“Yes,” Bob says. “And before you say anything, we’ve already talked to her about you being an applicant, and she said she will judge you fairly.”
Max leans into Storee and mutters, “Beatrice is now dating Sherry’s ex-husband.”
Storee nods in understanding and then sips her hot cocoa.
“Will there be a secondary judge to help her stay neutral?” Beatrice continues. “I appreciate her willingness to be fair, but I don’t trust her bias.”
“I’ll bring it up with the council and see what we can do.”
Beatrice nods. “Thank you.
“What about the candy cane making?” Jimmy says, not raising his hand this time, taking a cue from Beatrice. “Will Jefferson be offering classes this year?”
Bob shakes his head. “No. After the debacle from two years ago, he’s told us he refuses to give away his secrets, so if you want firsthand lessons, take them from his competitor an hour away. That information is in the packet.”
“Theodore Garvey took lessons from him and opened up his own candy shop over in Clayton,” Max says to Storee. Not sure why he’s giving her the lowdown.
“That’s messed up. Why would people go to him for lessons?” Storee asks.
“Because Jefferson likes to see just how well his lessons can transfer over, like a game of telephone. If the contestant does well, he takes credit for it. If they don’t, he blames Theodore and his inability to understand sugar.”
“Any other questions?” Bob asks.
“Um, are we going to be judged on past indiscretions?” Storee asks.
The room falls silent as Bob straightens up in his chair, the squeaking of the hinges filling the silence as his eyes land on Storee.
“This is a clean slate, my dear.” He smiles softly at her. “Anything that might have happened in the past involving Mrs. Fiskers or the signature tree…or the hot chocolate stash, they’ve all been expunged from your record. We’re just happy that Cindy has family back in town. She’s been…well, she’s not been herself.”
From the corner of my eye, I catch the frown that tugs on Storee’s lips. It’s brief, but I see it.
“We’re glad we can be here for her,” Storee says demurely.
“Yes, and hopefully this isn’t just a one-time thing, because we love having you and your sister here,” Sylvia says.
Who is we?
Sure as hell isn’t me.
“Thank you,” Storee says.
I can see the twinkle in her eyes.
The appreciation in her gaze.
And this is exactly what I was afraid of.
She’s putting on a show for the people of this town who don’t know the truth.
She’s going to walk around Kringle with her gold fucking sash draped over her shoulder, announcing her bid for the town’s most sought-after Christmas honor, and people are going to be so thrilled, so pleased, so over-fucking-joyed that she’s here to help Cindy that they won’t even see what’s truly going on.
She doesn’t care about them. She made that clear ten years ago. She’s just a con artist.
Yup, I said it.
A con artist.
