Never Sleigh Never (Man of the Month Club: Christmas Novella)

3. Cara

Cara

T he cheerful jingle of the bell above the front door of my shop barely registers as I awkwardly fold a stack of mint green cashmere sweaters with one hand. Even two days after the fall, my wrist is still bandaged and my tailbone still smarts, but I force a smile as my best friend, Gabby, breezes in, her strawberry blonde hair swirling behind her.

“Hey, babe! I brought you a peppermint mocha and—oh my god, are you hurt?” Her eyes widen when she sees my splint as she sets the to-go cup on the counter.

I wave my good hand dismissively. “Just a little spill on the ice.”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

The concern in her voice would normally threaten to crack my carefully constructed facade. But, thanks to the plan I concocted on the way home from my disastrous date with Wayne, a genuine smile that fills my face. “I’m fine, really.”

Gabby eyes me, as if trying to get a read on how fine I really am, but the whirring and clicking from behind the counter distracts her. She glances over at the printer, and the stack of fliers on the tray is distracting enough that she drops the subject.

“What are you printing?”

“Fliers for the Main Street Holiday Festival.”

Her eyebrows shoot up to her hairline. “A holiday festival? I didn’t know Magnolia Point had a holiday festival.”

“We used to, years ago. And now, we will again.” I swipe a flier from the top of the stack, thrilled with how the elegant winter wonderland design turned out after I spent hours on it, and pass it to her. “Thanks to me.”

“What?”

“And Thomas Crawford.”

“Shut up. Now, I know you’re making this up.”

I ignore the outburst. Gabby’s a born and raised, bona fide New Yorker, and you can take the girl out of the city, but you can’t take the city out of the girl with this one. “When I was young, the festival was this big annual event everyone looked forward to, but for some reason, it fizzled out years ago. I figured it’s high time we brought it—and some holiday magic—back to Magnolia Point.”

She scans the flier. “Cara, this says the festival is in two weeks.”

I busy myself straightening a display of sparkly clutches. “Thirteen days, to be precise.”

“But how can you organize an entire festival in two weeks?” Gabby presses. “Even with Thomas Crawford—and let’s circle back to that bomb you tried to slip in, hoping I wouldn’t notice.”

Did not. I swear.

“Especially since just the other day,” she continues, waving the flier in the air, “you recited a list of holiday plans, a mile longer than Santa’s Nice list, you wanted to do with Wayne.”

The mention of Wayne makes my tailbone sting like a thousand tiny needles stabbing in unison. He might not be the reason it hurts, but he’s certainly the cause for my chest feeling like an oyster’s been cracked open and emptied out.

I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. I wish I didn’t have to tell her the truth, but there’s no way I could lie to anyone, let alone Gabby. I take a deep breath, steeling myself for the avalanche of questions she’ll no doubt have. “The festival is to fill my time over the holiday season because Wayne broke up with me.”

Gabby gasps and rounds on me. “What? When?”

I force a laugh, trying to downplay the entire wretched situation. After all, you’d think I’d be used to guys breaking up with me by now, thanks to how many times it’s happened this year, but it still smarts. “Sunday. At the ice rink.”

“While you were ice skating?”

“I wish. At least, that way, we wouldn’t have had a captive audience.”

“He did it in front of other people?” Her outrage is apparent. And comforting.

“Only a bunch of EMTs in the first aid tent while one was wrapping my wrist. I should have sold popcorn.”

“Oh, honey.” Gabby’s face softens, and she pulls me in for a tight hug.

I sink against her, surrendering to the sympathy for a brief second before I step back and busy myself with the printer. “It’s fine,” I insist. “Really. I’m fine. More than fine, actually. It’s for the best. Plus, Wayne was—”

“A complete jackass.”

“No!” Fervent denial spikes in my throat, but then it catches, and I can’t force out the words to defend him.

“Admit it, Cara,” Gabby continues, “Wayne was too… Well, he wasn’t right for you; that’s for sure.”

Wasn’t right for me? I thought he was a perfect match, although now, I realize how wrong I was.

“It doesn’t matter,” I insist, tapping the stack of fliers on the counter to straighten them. “I’m swearing off men for the holidays, which is why I’ll have time to focus on the festival and bring some joy to Magnolia Point.”

The way her jaw drops you’d think I told her I was becoming a nun. “Swearing off men?”

“Yup.”

“That’s two items to circle back to now,” she says, wiggling two fingers in the air. “Maybe, I should start a list.”

I roll my eyes and bite back a smile. “You can add it to my new miles-long one over there.” I dip my chin toward the yellow legal pad on the counter.

Maybe, that was a bad idea the way her brows shoot up again when she spots it. “Are you sure you’re not taking on too much, Cara? Especially after—”

“I’ve already gotten permission from the mayor,” I share.

“Since yesterday?”

“I move fast.”

She shakes her head. “That you do, but he gave you the green light?”

“I’m on the agenda for the city council meeting on Thursday night, and that means I have a chance to convince them to give me a small budget to pull off the event.”

“Good luck,” Gabby says, her voice sincere, but concerned. “But, honey… I mean, Phillip and I can help a little, but we have the holiday afternoon tea next weekend and the breakfast with Santa at the inn the following weekend, and that’s already overbooked.”

“It’s alright,” I say, waving away her concern. “I’ve already spoken with Lennon from the thrift shop, February from Deja Brew, even Joy from Wordsmith’s. They’re all on board.”

“To help organize?”

“Well, no,” I admit, tucking the stack of fliers into a manila folder. “They’re happy to take part, but they don’t really have time to assist with planning. You know, the holiday season and all. But that’s okay. I’ve got everything under control.”

Her lips purse, and her voice drops. “Are you sure you’re not just throwing yourself into this festival idea to avoid dealing with the breakup?”

I bristle, certain it’s not even a little white lie when I tell her, “I’m not avoiding anything other than men. This town could use some good old-fashioned holiday cheer this season, and so could I, so really, it’s a win-win!”

Gabby holds up her hands, as if giving in. “If you say so. But if that’s the case, then let’s circle back to the whole Thomas Crawford helping you out situation .”

“It’s not a situation ,” I scoff, snorting a sip of the now lukewarm peppermint mocha and uncertain why the fuss about the gruff hardware store owner across the street. “He’s always pitching in for town events, even if he is more Ebeneezer Scrooge than Buddy the Elf.”

“Exactly. So why did he say yes to helping you organize a holiday festival?”

I’m not sure myself. And I may or may not have been wondering the same thing about the monosyllabic man since yesterday. Especially, because he surely realizes my vision doesn’t involve sawdust or flannel. Not that flannel doesn’t suit the rugged ex-ball player. Especially when he rolls up the sleeves and his thick forearms are on display.

“I…appealed to his sense of community,” I offer. It’s the only reason that makes sense.

“Thomas and Phillip have been friends for years,” Gabby says, speaking of her husband. “And they both feel a strong duty to support Magnolia Point. Plus,” she adds, resting a hip against the counter, “Thomas has that rugged, salt-of-the-earth thing going on. Totally not your type.”

“You can say that again.” I flick a glance across the street at Lowcountry Lumber and Hardware. “The man is basically as far from my type as one could get. He’s all…baseball caps and scuffed work boots. And gruff. I mean, he thinks a grunt constitutes a complete sentence.”

“And you’d never date him.”

“Never,” I confirm. Not in a million years. Thomas has the brawn to pull off my glistening winter wonderland straight out of a made-for-TV-holiday-romcom vision, that’s all. Plus, working with someone I’m not remotely interested in is the perfect way to prove I’m serious about my man-free holiday.

“And he won’t tempt you to break your vow.”

“He’s…practical,” I offer, going for a trait no one would find attractive. At least, not me.

“And you’re a glitter-loving, holiday-obsessed fashionista,” she says with a grin.

I swat at her with a flier, but I can’t help laughing. “I prefer ‘holiday enthusiast,’ thank you very much.”

Gabby’s expression softens. She reaches out, gently squeezing my good hand. “Well, I think this is a brilliant plan. Teaming up with someone completely different from your usual type is exactly what you need right now. No risk of falling for him, no messy emotions.”

“I’m glad you think so, because our first committee meeting starts in just a couple of hours.”

“I thought you said no one else was available to help organize the event.”

“No one else is available. We’re a small but mighty committee of two.”

She eyes me suspiciously. “Does Thomas know he’s the only other person on this committee ?”

I wrinkle my nose. “He will soon enough.”

And I pray he doesn’t bail and leave me completely and utterly alone when he finds out.