“I haven’t even been here twenty-four hours and I can see this is a delightful place to live. I look forward to serving Winter Hill, and I’m eager to begin learning as much as I can about this wonderful town. I invite all of you to communicate with me any hopes, expectations, suggestions, or concerns that I can help with. I plan to maintain an open-door policy. My primary goal is to assist the city to function as efficiently and positively as possible.” She smiled at the mayor. “And now I hand the meeting back to you.”

  Relieved to sit down and observe, Krista listened as the mayor handed the meeting over to the Christmasville chairwoman. Krista had met Martha Morgan during her two-bit tour. Her first impression was that Martha was a congenial middle-aged children’s librarian, but as Martha took over the meeting it became clear that she was energetic, enthusiastic, and a huge fan of Christmasville.

  “Before we get to this year’s information packet”—she held up the bright red-and-green striped folder—“I’d like everyone on the Christmasville Committee to briefly introduce themselves to Ms. Galloway.”

  Krista took notes as they went around the crowded table. Although she’d met some of the city staffers present, most of the people represented other venues, including the Chamber of Commerce, various philanthropic groups, and the fire and police departments. Even Beth Seymour, last night’s reporter from the newspaper, was there.

  Krista thanked them. “It’ll be a pleasure getting to know all of you.”

  Now Martha opened her own folder. “You have before you this year’s information packet,” she began. “The first few pages include festival positions and responsibilities and a schedule for all our volunteers, including phone numbers and emails so that you can be in communication with each other as needed. As you can see, not all positions are filled. Please, feel free to enlist your friends, family, and neighbors to join the cause. The more the merrier.” She flipped through the other sections, explaining their purposes until she came to the last page. “Now, as you all know, we’ll be using the first floor of City Hall for some new Christmasville stations. There’s a map of the lower level in the back of your notes. The spaces are numbered and will be assigned on a first-come-first-served basis.”

  Krista listened with amusement as Martha went through the various details—everything from what kind of baked goods would be available in Mrs. Claus’s kitchen to the hours the skating rink would be open—but she marveled at how seriously they were taking this planning meeting about elves and reindeer and Santa stand-ins, offering comments, questions, and suggestions appropriately. Clearly everyone in here was on board with this. Well, almost everyone. Across the room from her, Winston Palmer had a disgruntled expression, barely glancing at Martha’s information packet and, unless Krista was mistaken, he was getting ready to rain on their Christmas parade.

  “Are there any more questions?” Martha asked with a bright smile.

  A few more queries were tossed and fielded, but finally there was a tiny lapse and Winston spoke up. “I’d like to see this year’s budget for Christmasville. Have you prepared that yet, Martha?”

  “Well, not as yet, Winston, but I assume it will be similar to last year’s. Although we have some additional costs in regard to—”

  “Similar to last year’s?” He held up the page with the map of the first floor, waving it back and forth. “How did you plan to cover this expense? These offices should’ve been leased or rented by now. They need to be earning real income—yet you people plan to turn the whole thing into a ridiculous Santa land. Have you ever paused to consider the lost revenue here? And what about the utilities involved? There’s heat, water, electrical costs. And that’s not all. What about legal liabilities?” He pointed to Byron Peters. “Have you ever considered what it could cost the city if a kid got hurt? And there are dozens of ways that could happen. The ice rink for starters. Or the giant Christmas tree could fall. Kids could be trampled by the live reindeer. Or get food poisoning from some of those homemade foods. The list is endless. A big fat lawsuit could send our city into bankruptcy.”

  “We have insurance,” Byron calmly answered. “And we do have permission forms for some activities. I think we’re covering our bases here, Winston.”

  But Winston was not convinced. He continued to go on what sounded like a well-rehearsed tirade against the waste of Christmasville in general. “Too much money, too much city employee time, too much risk. It’s time to put a stop to this nonsense before it puts a stop to Winter Hill.” He blustered for a couple more minutes, but finally paused long enough for Mayor Barry to jump in.

  “But you’re missing something important in your dismal financial forecast, Winston. You fail to recognize what an excellent public relations platform we have created in Christmasville. As we all know, our town was financially floundering after the last recession. The local economy was in the toilet. And we went out on a limb to put together our first Christmasville celebration. Admittedly, we probably went in the hole that year. But the next year was better. And from what I understand, thanks to our volunteers, we’ve been pretty much breaking even. And thanks to the visitors who’ve come from as far away as Florida—deciding that Winter Hill is a wonderful place to live—our town’s population has steadily increased in the past six years. We all know this is a direct result of Christmasville. It’s why we’ve experienced a recent housing need and subsequent building boom.”

  “There are some people who feel the town is growing too quickly,” Winston argued. “And we have to address the expense of infrastructure improvements and—”

  “More homes equals more tax revenue,” the mayor shot back. “A stronger economy will make for a stronger tax base. In the end it will equal out—and then some. You can’t get bigger without some growing pains. And most people in Winter Hill will agree that our town has only gotten better these last ten years—much of that is thanks to Christmasville.”

  “You’re not running for mayor,” Winston said sharply. “Save your campaign speech for the next election.”

  Suddenly the two men, as well as many others, were arguing so loudly that Krista did the only thing she could think of to put the brakes on. She picked up her nearly empty coffee mug and, using it like a gavel, banged it so soundly onto the conference table that it cracked in several pieces.

  “Excuse me!” Suppressing embarrassment over the splashed coffee around the broken Christmas mug, Krista continued. “May I call this meeting to order?”

  Everyone grew quiet, looking expectantly her way.

  “I have a suggestion.” She calmly pointed to Winston. “Why don’t you create a spreadsheet that shows the committee exactly what the expenses of Christmasville actually are, as well as a spreadsheet to show the increased tax revenue and other fiscal benefits that the mayor just described. That way we can all see, in black and white, what we are talking about.”

  Winston scowled at her. “That would take a lot of hours to prepare.”

  “Are you saying you’re too busy to perform this task?” Krista persisted. “Because I’m sure there must be someone in your department that you could delegate to or perhaps we could hire an outside firm to—”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.”

  “Then are you saying it’s too difficult to pull these figures together?” She tipped her head to one side. “Don’t you have access to all these numbers, Mr. Palmer?”

  He glared at her. “Even if I do produce these spreadsheets, it’s pointless. I tell these people all the time that this silly event is getting far too expensive—but do they listen to me? It’s like spitting in the wind.”

  “Have they ever seen the Christmasville budget numbers on paper?” she demanded. “In an easy-to-read spreadsheet?” She smiled placatingly. “Even if no one else cares to read it, I’m interested.”

  “I’m interested too,” the mayor chimed in. “And I like that easy-to-read part. Too bad all our financial reports aren’t easy to read.”

  “I’d like to see it too,” Martha said. “But don’t forget that a lot of our expenses are covered by donations. Not only in materials and labor, but some folks make cash donations too. Don’t forget to include those in your spreadsheet, Winston. And don’t forget to include the profits that go back into the general Christmasville fund when it’s over and done. I was under the impression that we broke even these last couple of years. Or nearly even.”

  “That doesn’t include using city property like you plan to do this year,” he shot back at her. “How do you account for that expense?”

  “We need that extra space,” a woman from public relations declared. “We’re predicting even bigger crowds. We’ve had nationwide coverage this year. We’re even featured in the November issue of Sunset.” She waved the magazine for emphasis. “That’s no small potatoes.”

  “And we’ve got that figure-skaters club from Seattle performing on the two weekends before Christmas,” someone else pointed out. “That’s a ticketed event.”

  “And so is the concert on the twenty-first,” Martha said. “Don’t forget that on your spreadsheet.”

  “So this should be a record-breaking year for Christmasville in Winter Hill,” the mayor declared with a big smile. “Thanks to everyone’s contributions. There’s no reason Christmasville can’t be the biggest winter celebration in the Pacific Northwest.”

  “Unless we get no snow.” Winston stood, collecting his things. “You all seem to forget that the success of this winter celebration is directly related to the weather. And, according to the Farmer’s Almanac, the northwest is supposed to have a dry winter.” He made a smug smile that really would’ve befitted Ebenezer Scrooge then, excusing himself, exited the room.

  “Bah humbug!” Mayor Barry declared after the door was closed.

  “What a buzzkill.” A young clerk rolled her eyes.

  “I don’t know why we allow him to attend these meetings,” Martha said.

  “Let’s not let Winston dampen our spirits,” the mayor said. “We all know he hates Christmasville.” He turned to Krista. “That’s a great idea you had about having him make a spreadsheet. For one thing it will keep him busy—gives him less time to grumble at everyone. Besides that, it would be interesting to see the real numbers in an easy-to-read document. Good work, Ms. Galloway.” He grinned. “Welcome to the Christmasville team.”

  She smiled but kept her true thoughts to herself. Sure, it was true that Winston Palmer had some very Scrooge-like qualities. But, to be fair, stinginess wasn’t such a bad quality in the person holding the city purse strings. She could imagine how a big celebration like Christmasville could get out of hand. It was always easier for a city to spend than to save—especially when it was an emotional expense. People outside of the finance department tended to think with their hearts, not their heads. But perhaps Krista could help them to understand. She hoped so.

  5

  By the end of her first day, Krista had reached numerous conclusions. The mayor appeared to be friendly and dependable. Her assistant, Pauline Harris, was a valuable advocate. Martha Morgan was enthusiastic, but perhaps not realistic. This was driven home when Martha showed up in Krista’s office, with the suggestion that Krista should work in Santa’s workshop.

  “You’re so petite and cute, Ms. Galloway, you’d make a lovely little elf. You could be the head elf during your shifts. And your little daughter could help too. I’m sure she’d love it. Perhaps she could invite some little friends to help too. It would be such fun.”

  Krista wanted to argue about “fun” but remembered her resolve not to rock anyone’s boat during her first week on the job. Instead, she smiled politely and promised to think about it. But at the end of the day as she walked through the dusky town, carrying her recyclable bag filled with milk, eggs, produce, and other heavy grocery items, she felt her mind was made up. Somehow, without offending Martha or being labeled the second-string Scrooge—since Winston had earned that title—she would bow out of volunteering for Christmasville. She would claim she was too busy, or had other plans, or anything to avoid getting pulled into a celebration that opposed everything she believed. Perhaps she could tell them she was ethnically Jewish. Except that wasn’t exactly true and she had no intention of lying. To be fair, it could be true. She didn’t actually know anything about her birth parents’ heritage. She’d been tempted to do a DNA test last year but then heard a story about an adopted adult whose DNA test revealed a birth father who was a serial killer. So Krista nixed that idea. Some stones were better left unturned.

  As Krista reached the grade school, she checked her watch. She’d skipped her lunch break and left work a little early in order to grab some groceries and pick up Emily. It wasn’t even five o’clock and it was already dark out. She’d known that the sun set earlier in the Northwest, but it would still be daylight in Phoenix right now. And warm. Krista shivered as she hurried up the front steps. Perhaps she’d need to get a car sooner than she’d imagined.

  Inside, the school was light and bright and warm. She turned right past the office, like Mrs. Richards had told her, heading for the gymnasium where the after-school program was housed. Expecting to hear children’s shrill happy voices, she was surprised—and unsettled—by how quiet it was when she approached the open door. She anxiously peered into the gym, spotting Emily sitting on the floor with a young woman.

  “Hello,” Krista called out in relief. “I’m here.”

  “You’re here!” Emily exclaimed and, rushing toward her, enveloped her in a hug. “I thought you’d never come.”

  Krista smiled at the woman. “I hope I’m not late. Mrs. Richards said child care was provided until six.”

  “That’s right.” The woman nodded. “But most kids get picked up earlier. I’m Shara, by the way.”

  Krista introduced herself while helping Emily into her parka. “I actually don’t get off work until five. I quit a little early today. But even if I come straightaway, it’ll probably be about five fifteen . . . at best.”

  Shara frowned slightly as she reached for her own coat. “That’s okay.” Although her tone suggested it was not okay, and it was obvious she wanted to go home too.

  Krista quickly thanked her and, picking up Emily’s backpack, hurried them from the gym and outside.

  “It’s nighttime!” Emily exclaimed. “You really were late, Mama.”

  “It’s not actually as late as you think.” She explained how it got dark earlier in Washington.

  “And it’s cold too. Do you think it’ll snow?”

  “I don’t think so. The sky is completely clear.” Krista hastened her pace. “If we walk faster, we’ll stay warmer.”

  By the time they reached the apartment, they were both shivering. “I’m going to get us a car,” Krista said as she locked the door. Although the apartment was warmer than outside, it was still on the chilly side. Krista turned up the thermostat again. “Ceiling heat,” she complained as she unloaded groceries, “is for the birds!”

  “What’s ceiling heat?”

  Krista explained their heating dilemma as she started dinner. “So you wind up with a hot head and cold feet.” She handed Emily a slice of cheese. “Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes. Why don’t you go put your coat and pack away and wash your hands. Then you can help me in here and tell me about your day.”

  By the time they sat down to a simple dinner, Krista felt encouraged. Emily loved her school and her teacher and even felt hopeful about the prospects of friends.

  “All the kids were nice, but Laurel is the nicest girl in the whole wide world.” Emily forked into her spaghetti. “She showed me where the bathroom was and sat with me at lunch and played with me at recess. I think she’s going to be my BFF.”

  “I hope so.” Krista didn’t want to tell Emily that Laurel had been assigned to her as an elf buddy, but she also hated to see Emily get her hopes up and then be disappointed.

  “And guess what, Mama?” Emily had a spaghetti noodle hanging down her chin.

  “What? But don’t talk with your mouth full.” Krista waited.

  Emily chewed and swallowed. “Laurel lives right next to the Christmas House.” Her eyes grew wide. “She watched it getting moved last night too. And that house isn’t very far from here. So maybe I can go to Laurel’s house sometime. Like maybe after school. That would be lots better than the after-school program.” Emily frowned.

  “You don’t like the after-school program?”

  “It’s okay. But the kids there weren’t as nice as the kids in my class. Some of them were mean. And Shara yells too much.”

  “Oh.” Krista felt disappointed. “Well, it was your first day, honey. Maybe it’ll be better tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, but if Laurel asks me to go to her house after school . . . sometime . . . can I go?” The twinkle in Emily’s eyes was a tip-off.

  “Only if Laurel asks you, Emily. You cannot ask her. That would be bad manners. And not a good way to start things up with a potential BFF.”

  “Oh.” Emily looked dismayed. “But if she asks me, can I go?”

  “May I go,” Krista corrected.

  “May I go?” Emily looked up with hopeful blue eyes.

  “Only if Laurel’s mother has agreed. And then you’ll have to call me and get permission, and then I’ll have to call Laurel’s mother and talk to her.”

  “Okay.” She picked up a piece of broccoli. “I’ll do all that. I promise.” She nodded. “Now, Mama, how was your day?”

  Krista couldn’t help but smile at this switch in conversation. Emily was only eight, but she was quite grown up in some ways. So Krista told her a bit about City Hall. And about the Christmasville planning meeting.

  “Does that mean you’ll be helping with Christmasville?” Emily’s eyes lit up.

  “Well, I suppose I’ll have to . . . a little.” Krista had no intention of telling Emily about Martha’s suggestion they be elves in Santa’s workshop. “As little as possible.”