Page 43
The dining room, however, was packed.
Every table was occupied by locals eating steaming bowls of soup or tearing into thick slices of bread. Wet gloves and hats crowded the backs of chairs. Volunteers moved between the tables with hot coffee and cocoa, while others came and went carrying insulated containers destined for homes farther out.
And Cole wasn’t staying.
Or so he thought.
Mayor Bloomfield opened the front door and greeted them with an enthusiastic wave.
He’d ditched the Santa suit. In its place was a bright green jacket, a crisp white shirt, and a candy-cane-striped tie Cole suspected the man had been saving for exactly this occasion. He was beaming.
“Excellent!” Bloomfield clapped his hands together. “You’re both here.”
Cole looked at Emily. Emily looked at Cole.
Neither of them had agreed to be there for whatever this was.
Mayor Bloomfield ushered them inside.
Mrs. Bishop was holding court at the corner table. Madison and Zach were near the counter. Kit was by the window talking to Robyn, while Tyler’s daughter, Emma, sat cross-legged on the floor with Nutmeg in her lap, feeding him something she absolutely shouldn’t have been.
The mayor swept Emily aside and launched into an animated explanation of his latest plan. Cole was almost afraid to ask. But he figured he’d learn about it soon enough.
A moment later, Emily nodded and stepped back, apparently having agreed to whatever the mayor had cooked up.
Elsie was in position near the door, phone raised. “Ready when you are,” she said, swinging the camera toward her uncle.
Mayor Bloomfield positioned himself beside the counter, straightened his candy cane tie, and beamed at the crowd.
“Welcome, everyone, to our impromptu community briefing! We’ve got lots of news to share.” He paused for effect. “First up. The tree lighting ceremony is on for Friday night!”
The bakery erupted. Applause, cheers, someone whistling from the back.
“Yes, yes!” Bloomfield held up his hands, grinning. “The electrical company has assured me that full power will be restored by tomorrow, and we can go forth with our beloved annual tradition.”
More clapping. Mrs. Bishop dabbed at her eyes with a napkin.
“Also!” The mayor raised a finger. “The Santa House will open on Saturday as planned!”
Emma cheered the loudest. The eight-year-old was on her feet now, Nutmeg abandoned, her overalls dusted with cookie crumbs, her face split into a grin so wide it looked like it might hurt. Tyler put a hand on her shoulder and tried to calm her down, promising they’d go first thing.
“Make sure to have your lists ready,” Bloomfield continued, pointing at Emma with a wink. “Santa will be there and waiting.”
Bloomfield raised his hands again, and the room quieted. “Now, we did have to make one small adjustment to our holiday plans.” He paused, his expression shifting into something that approximated gravitas, though the candy cane tie undercut it slightly. “The council met this morning, and we’ve made the difficult decision to cancel this year’s light-up competition.”
A chorus of boos. Genuine, heartfelt boos. Mrs. Bishop shook her head. Kit groaned. Someone in the back said, “Come on!”
“I know, I know.” Bloomfield held up a palm. “I hate it as much as you do. But with the storm damage, the wind, the snow still on the ground, it just isn’t safe to put up all the outdoor displays this year. Insurance won’t cover it, and I won’t have anyone falling off a ladder on my watch.”
The grumbling continued, but it was the resigned kind. People understood.
“But.” Bloomfield held up a finger. The room stilled. “Have no fear. We’ve got something just as exciting. Something even sweeter, you might say.” He paused, letting the anticipation build with the instincts of a man who had never met a dramatic moment he didn’t want to stretch. “Drum roll, please.”
A few patrons tapped on the tables. Emma trilled her tongue.
“The Maple Falls Christmas Bake-Off is officially back on!”
The bakery exploded.
