She stared at the phone in her palm for a beat before stowing it back into her pocket. What was she going to do? She wasn’t any more prepared now than she had been the last time. Arguably, she was evenlessprepared.
“Everything okay?” Trinity easily read Rachel’s crestfallen expression when she came back into the shop.
“They’ve moved my Mistlefaux presentation up to the twentieth.”
A concerned sigh dropped Trinity’s shoulders. “Oh no. That doesn’t give you much time, does it?”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. You’re welcome to head out if you need to.” She dipped her chin toward the door in an encouraging nod. “I can take care of the rest of these wreaths. You’ve already been such a tremendous help. I honestly can’t thank you enough.”
Rachel knew she should leave—should pore over her mistletoe campaign until revelation dawned and she had a worthy product—but she didn’t want to. She picked up a wire frame and gave Trinity a smile.
“You know what? I think I’d like to stay here, if you’ll have me.”
“You are always welcome, Rachel.” Trinity returned the full grin. “And please know, that’s a standing invitation.”
* * *
Stewart Joy was beside himself.Mayor Thornton would come by the house today to measure their noble fir and crown it the official town square tree. Fifteen years, twenty-feet, and constant doting and affection was all it took to earn that prestigious title.
That, and the demise of their competitor’s tree.
Rachel tried not to dwell on that little piece of information.
She couldn’t really dwell on much, other than that in a few short days, she’d be back in San Francisco with zero changes made to her original Mistlefaux product. Maybe they wouldn’t notice if she gave the same presentation. After all, she was pretty convinced a few of the executives had dozed off a time or two the first go around.
She shook her head. Who was she kidding? This had career sabotage written all over it.
“Is he here yet?” Stewart bounded down the stairs with all the exuberance of a child awaiting a holiday visit from Saint Nick.
“Not yet, Dad. But I promise I’ll let you know as soon as he arrives.”
Stewart pressed his nose to the glass window by the door. “I’ll just wait here so I don’t miss him. Wouldn’t want the man to wait out in the cold.”
Rachel didn’t bring up the fact that they would have to brave the cold to measure the tree. “Sounds like a good plan, Dad.”
Luckily, Mayor Thornton was a prompt man, arriving at twelve o’clock on the nose. And not a moment too soon. Stewart flung the door open and sang, “O’ Christmas tree, O’ Christmas tree!” in the most booming greeting.
The mayor humored him with resounding applause as he walked up the porch and into the foyer, a single clap in time with each step. “I can’t say I’ve had a more celebratory welcome. It’s good to see you, Stewart.”
“And you, as well.” Stewart gave a little bow. “Are you ready?”
“That, I am. I hear your tree is a true sight to behold.”
“It is. The most gorgeous noble fir this side of the mountain. And it’ll be even more beautiful decked out and lit up in the center of town. It’s the perfect homegrown Christmas tree.”
“I don’t doubt that.” Mayor Thornton tipped the edge of his plaid newsboy cap.
The two gentlemen moved through the house, toward the back door. Rachel thought about joining them outside, but she had a perfectly good vantage point from her workplace at the kitchen table. And in truth, she wanted to give her father a little privacy in his big moment.
Mistletoe mocked her from every angle. She deflated with a sigh. The only solid plan she currently had was to tell the execs that shedidn’thave one—no plan, no prototype, no passion.
It wasn’t like her to throw in the towel like this, but it seemed inevitable.
For the first time in her life, Rachel faced the genuine possibility that she just might lose. It tugged on her stomach like a heavy weight.
Sliding her gaze from the discouraging mess in front of her, she peered out the window. The men had already finished measuring the tree, and the exchanged handshake indicated the Joy’s success.
