It seems like every year Christmas decorations come out earlier and earlier. One minute it’s Halloween and by midnight—boom—Christmas. Not that I’m complaining. Personally, I think it should be Christmas all-year around, but this town has its way of doing things. Small towns tend to move at their own pace, even if a snail could outrun it, and this one is no exception.
The eggnog and brandy concoction slowly works to ease the tension in my shoulders that has set in. My luck, as it turns out, seems to have vanished with getting the job. First, most of the stuff needs to be tossed. Second, they are only giving me three weeks to overhaul the decorations—and believe me, I tried to get them to let me start sooner. Thirdly, there are no viable options for replacements. None. I’ve looked everywhere. Even trusty old marketplace is a dud. The only thing I can think to do to fulfill my vision is to make things myself.
Uncle John, my dad’s brother, taught me when I was younger how to work with my hands. He’s a handyman and constantly has his fingers covered in grease, but he made sure my cousins and I knew the basics around power tools. Many days after school were spent in his shop “helping” with jobs. We’d make wooden guns that shoot rubber bands or put together wooden stools. Some of my best childhood memories come from that shop.
I’ll make everything by hand if I have to. Nothing is going to stop me from completing this project.
***
“Next, we have Miss Samantha Williams sharing her preparations for the Christmas Spectacular.”
All evening I waited my turn to address the city council at their bi-weekly meeting. Wiping my hands down my thighs, I stand and make my way up to the podium. As the Event Coordinator, I’m expected to be present for every meeting as well as report on the progress being made. At the last meeting, they gave me permission to evaluate the warehouse and do what I deemed best. Tonight though, I have a sense that things aren’t going to go smoothly.
Clearing my throat, the feedback of the microphone screeches, causing everyone to jump and cover their ears. “Let’s try this again,” I joke, smiling broadly at the group sitting before me. “My assistant and I went to the warehouse and looked at all the decorations stored there.” I pause, making sure to make eye contact with the members before continuing. “Unfortunately, most of the equipment was beyond repair. Many items were broken, discolored, or a safety hazard-” before I can continue, a shrill voice interrupts me.
“Now, hold on there Miss Williams.” The urge to roll my eyes is almost overwhelming as Mrs. Lori Haverford stands from her seat at the table before me. “What do you mean a safety hazard? Those items are part of the tradition of this town. Yet you describe them as trash.” Her words are full of disbelief and outrage. However, I’m not surprised. The vote for me to be the new coordinator may have been unanimous, but Lori Haverford is a born and bred Rose Prairie native. She comes from a long line of proud Rosies —as they call themselves—and is the only one who gave pushback on my proposal.
Deep, calm breaths Sammie.
Forcing a gentle smile, I respond. “Yes, unfortunately. Quinn and I did a very thorough inspection of the items, many of which contained lead paint that was flaking off. Some objects were broken and had sharp edges that could harm anyone walking by. Not to mention the mildew that was covering items that were not properly stored.” On cue, Mrs. Haverford huffs, placing her hands on her hips. “Based on what we saw, only a handful of items could be saved, and we fully intend to restore them. No one wants to come in and remove years’ worth of traditions and memories, but safety is also a concern.” The room falls silent at the information. Thankfully Mayor Desmond comes to my rescue.
“Safety is and will always be this town’s priority.” He leans forward making eye contact with Mrs. Haverford. Turning back toward me, he says, “We appreciate your diligence and transparency with this council. All of this is cause for concern.”
Nodding, I agree with him. “This is a minor setback, but I’m fully committed to this project,” straightening up I try to project confidence. “Going forward, I think the best thing we can do is to create our very own custom pieces to be built to replace and revitalize the Christmas Spectacular.” Several people are nodding their heads in agreement and a renewed sense of conviction that thiscanbe done.
I will be the one to do it.
“And who do you have in mind to complete these custom projects?” Mr. Brown speaks up, asking the one question I’m worried about. Because I have a feeling they aren’t going to like my answer.
“Well, due to such short notice, I’m afraid there aren’t many options-” but before I can finish, Mrs. Haverford interrupts, yet again. She’s really pushing my patience.
“Stop right there. My nephew can do it. He’s a town native and also happens to be a carpenter. He just moved back into town and is trying to build his business. He’ll do the job.” Just looking at the set of her shoulders and the bob of her head while she spoke was all the information I needed to know that there would be no stopping this.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
The last thing I need is for Lori Haverford’s nephew to be all in my business and report back to her about all the changes I’m making.
Old Mrs. Clinton leans forward, her face sweet with her wrinkled smile. “Oh, Levi is back in town? He’s such a nice young man. We’ve missed him since he left for that city.” Pointing her finger and shaking it like only a grandma can, she says, “I knew he’d come back. They never stray far for long.”
Mayor Desmond stands clapping his hands in finality. “It’s settled then. Levi will build these custom pieces for the Spectacular.” He turns toward Lori. “Are you certain Levi can do this?”
She nods vehemently. “I’ll make sure of it. You can count on Levi.”
Somehow I get the feeling that everything is about to change.
Chapter Two
Levi
“Watch out, coming through!” The box I’m carrying from the moving truck is so large I can’t see over the top. “Wide load,” I bellow while attempting to contort my body with the box at just the right angle to make it through the doorway.
“Okay Levi, just go straight. No, straight. What the hell, man?” Greyson’s voice is obviously irritated at my lack of maneuvering. It’s not like he gave the best directions since I walked straight into the wall, bouncing back while somehow managing to not drop the box.
“I’m good. Absolutely nothing to worry about,” I chuckle as Greyson grabs my shoulders and moves me a step over.
Lightly pushing my back, he says, “Now go straight, dumbass.” I’d laugh if the box wasn’t so damn heavy. What the hell did I pack in here anyway?
Setting the box in the bedroom at the back of the unit, I take a look around at my new home. The duplex is small but was recently updated. Updated for Rose Prairie at least. The oven is at minimum ten years old, the floors are a mixture of carpet and linoleum, and the walls have been painted a bright white. It’s not much, but it’ll do. There aren’t many options in Rose Prairie, so finding this place was a miracle.
