Georgia straightened in her seat. “Mrs. Peters…”
“Please, sweetie, call me Lana. Mrs. Peters is my mother-in-law, and I love the woman, but I don’t need anybody confusing me for her.”
“Yes, ma’am, um, Mrs. Lana.”
“Lana, Georgia. Call me Lana. You’re a grown woman, for goodness’ sake.”
“Lana.” Mrs. Peters smiled, and Georgia continued, “I believe you know I went to school in Atlanta for marketing. And until settling here, I worked for Direct Link Marketing in the city as a regional director.”
Mrs. Peters nodded, her antlers waving to and fro with the movement. “I do remember that, yes. That’s a mighty fancy job title for such a young lady.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Georgia’s heart fluttered with the praise. “I was hoping, in light of my experience, that I might be able to take on a marketing role here in town. I know the Best in Snow Show is coming up, and I have a few ideas on how we could connect it to a worthy community outreach project while also serving the small business owners here on Main Street. In fact, if you’re interested, I’d like to run a marketing campaign leading up to the event.”
Georgia sat back slightly in her chair and clenched her hands together on her lap, hoping she’d made the right choice. To her utter surprise, Mrs. Peters clapped her hands together like an excited school girl and stood up suddenly, giving Georgia a full view of her knee-length, Santa-suit sweater dress and Christmas lights leggings.
“Oh, Georgia, that is a wonderful idea! I would absolutely love to hear your thoughts.” She came around the desk, scooping up her coloring page from the floor and lovingly patting a Santa statue on the head before grabbing Georgia’s hands and pulling her to her feet. “As you can see here, I have been very busy with Christmas preparations, and I know I am just not doin’ this town it's due when it comes to the Best in SnowShow. I could use your expertise.”
She pulled Georgia into a tight hug as if they’d been best friends for years and then pushed her gently back into the chair, before returning to her own behind the desk. “Now,” she said with a wide smile, “what do you have in mind?”
Georgia spent the remainder of the afternoon planning and brainstorming with her unexpected partner and the astounding audience of Santas, who Georgia never could seem to ignore. When she left the office that day, she couldn’t help but feel an excitement and freedom she hadn’t experienced in a very long time. And Georgia knew there was only one person she really wanted to tell.
13
IS HE WORTHY?
ANDREW PETERSON
NOW
Georgia only hadto make a couple of discreet calls to find out the Lovett family’s address. She knew the general part of town, but had never actually been there before. It turned out, in their small, close-knit town, oversharing—even in the case of an entire family’s personal information—was common.
Georgia reached out to an elderly lady from Living Hope Church—who she knew was a member of Pastor Lovett’s bible study on Wednesday nights and who happened to play bridge with her mama once a month—to find out that the Lovett’s were near neighbors with the Crawley family who lived next to the covered bridge off of Faulkner Drive.
Faulkner was known for long driveways and homes hidden behind forests of pine trees, so rather than drive down each of those in search of her destination, Georgia called the Crawley’s youngest daughter, Caty. Caty, a member of the youth group and close friends with Ginny, wasn’t suspicious in the slightest when Georgia asked for the Lovett’s address under the guise of bringing holiday treats to the family. She did, however, have to endure the endless squeals and musings of yet another teenage girl losing her cool overthose gorgeous Lovett boys.
It was nearly dusk when she reached the driveway Caty Crawley had so eagerly directed her to. Georgia’s heart began to race as she pulled around a bend and found the Lovett’s light blue ranch waiting for her. The charming home looked like a cottage from a story book. A crisp white, wrap-around porch, not unlike Georgia’s parents’ home, adorned the front. Well-maintained flower beds, that would surely be bountiful with life when spring brushed through the South, decorated the walkway leading to the porch. And a golden lab burst through a hidden doggy door just outside Georgia’s view, greeting her as she made her way up the steps.
“Aren’t you adorable?” She knelt, setting down her things, and put the dog’s face between her hands, rubbing its cheeks and ears. Its tail wagged excitedly as it leaned into her movements. “Do you have a name, cutie pie?”
“Well, Manning, who do we have here?” Mrs. Lovett stepped onto the front porch, letting the screen door shut with a whine behind her. She wore an apron tied around her waist but had not a hair out of place.
“Manning, huh? I thought y’all were Bulldog fans?” Georgia gave the dog a last pat and stood, grabbing her purse and the package of baked treats buried inside.
Mrs. Lovett chuckled and opened the door for the dog. “The boys are, but your pastor would tattoo Peyton Manning’s name on his chest if he thought it’d ensure a Tennessee national championship.”
“That is quite the visual. I never would’ve guessed.” Georgia smiled and took a step towards the porch stairs. “How are you, Mrs. Lovett?”
Lake’s mom clasped her hands in front of her and a charming smile graced her face. “I am just fine, Georgia. Thank you.” She came down the steps and grabbed Georgia’s hands, leading her into the house. “Why don’t you come on in? He’s just sittin’ on the screened-in porch out around back.”
“Oh… I’m not… I came… I’m dropping off some Christmas treats from the shop for y’all. That’s all.”
Mrs. Lovett merely hummed, “Mmmhhhmm. Alright, sure, honey,” and dragged Georgia through their home. It smelled of apple cinnamon and chili. Warm and cozy. The TV in the living room had a football game playing without anyone watching, and a beautiful, flocked Christmas tree sat in the corner, bringing light to the darkening room.
She was guided through a formal dining room and then, off the kitchen, to a beautiful sun room overlooking the backyard. The sun, beginning to lower slowly, cast its glow over the path she would take.
Mrs. Lovett dropped Georgia’s hand at the entryway to the sun room. She put her hands out as if waiting for something. “I’ll take those treats now… if you really have some.” A familiar smirk, one that looked all too like her son’s mischievous grin, lifted one side of her thin lips.
Georgia fumbled in her large purse and retrieved a paper bag filled with goodies. “Oh, of course I have them. I told you that’s what I came for.”
