Welcome to Serenity. Sherryl Woods
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lit, the church choirs invited to sing. You’ve been here long enough to know the drill. And you’re one of the most organized people I know.”
“And the least likely human being on the planet to want to do this,” Jeanette said just as earnestly. “Really, Maddie, you do not want me anywhere near the town’s holiday plans. I give new meaning to bah-humbug. If it were up to me, we’d cancel Christmas.”
Maddie looked genuinely shaken. “Why? How can you not love Christmas?”
“I just don’t, okay?” Jeanette said tightly. “I can’t do this for you, Maddie. I can’t. Anything else, but not this. I’ll watch your kids, take on extra duties around here, whatever you need, but I won’t be involved with the festival.”
“But—”
“I won’t do it, Maddie, and that’s final.”
And for the first time in her three years at The Corner Spa, Jeanette stood up and walked out on her boss, leaving Maddie openmouthed with shock.
Tom McDonald had been town manager of Serenity for one hour and fifteen minutes when Mayor Howard Lewis walked into his office, plopped his pudgy body into a chair and announced, “Let’s talk about Christmas.”
Tom leveled a withering gaze at him that was intended to nip that idea right in the bud. “Don’t you think we should be focusing on the budget, Howard? That comes up for a vote at the next council meeting and I need to be up to speed on what the priorities are around Serenity.”
“I’ll tell you what the top priority is,” Howard replied with single-minded determination. “Christmas. We do it up big here in Serenity. Needs to be done right, so you need to call a meeting now. Get those chamber of commerce people and a few business leaders involved. I’ll give you some names.”
While Tom tried to figure out the best way to say no, Howard’s expression turned thoughtful.
“Look,” Howard said, “we could use some new decorations for the square, now that there are a few new businesses downtown. Maybe some of those big lighted snowflakes. I’m thinking downtown is where this year’s celebration ought to be, just like the old days. The park’s great, but there’s something about a town square that just goes with an old-fashioned Christmas, don’t you think?”
Tom ignored the question. “Are new decorations in the current budget?” he asked, trying to be practical and to avoid the quagmire of admitting his own distaste for the holidays.
“I doubt it,” Howard replied with a shrug. “But there’re always a few dollars here and there that can be used for emergencies. Discretionary funds, isn’t that what you call them?”
“Snowflakes hardly qualify as an emergency purchase,” Tom told him, wondering if he was going to have many discussions like this during his tenure in Serenity. If so, it was going to be a frustrating experience.
Howard waved off his objections. “You’ll find a way, I’m sure. The point is to get started on this now.”
“It’s September, Howard,” Tom reminded him, his dread growing in direct proportion to Howard’s unwavering determination.
Howard waved off the reminder. “And it takes time to get things organized, especially when you have to rely on volunteers. Surely you know that. Your résumé cited all that organizational experience you have. Use it.”
“It seems to me that since you have so much enthusiasm for this project, you should be the one in charge,” Tom said, unable to keep the desperate note out of his voice. Another minute of even thinking about pulling together a Christmas celebration and he’d be sweating openly.
He’d grown up in a household that began holiday preparations not much later than this, complete with decorators who made every downstairs room in his family’s Charleston household a designer’s Christmas showcase before the round of social occasions began right after Thanksgiving. Heaven forbid that he or his sisters actually try to unwrap one of the packages on display under any of the lavishly decorated trees. Most were nothing more than empty boxes. Like a lot of things that went on in the McDonald home, it was all about show, not substance.
He was aware that Howard was studying him with a narrowed gaze. “You got something against Christmas?” the mayor inquired.
“In the religious context, absolutely nothing,” Tom said quickly. “I’m just saying that organizing a bunch of decorations and such is not an effective use of my time. Then there’s the whole issue of religious displays on public property, separation of church and state and all that. We need to be careful. The courts are ruling against a lot of these displays.”
“Nonsense,” Howard said. “This is Serenity. Nobody here objects to Christmas.” He stood up. “I’ll want to see a report on your progress with this before next Thursday’s council meeting. Understood?”
Tom barely resisted a desire to close his eyes and pray for patience. “Understood,” he said, tight-lipped.
Putting him in charge of the celebration, he thought sourly, was a little bit like turning it over to Scrooge.
If Jeanette had been a drinker, her conversation with Maddie would have sent her straight to a bar. Instead, it sent her fleeing to Sullivan’s for a double serving of Dana Sue’s famous apple bread pudding topped with cinnamon ice cream. The order—or a report on her sour mood from the waitress—immediately drew Dana Sue out of the kitchen.
The owner of Serenity’s highly successful, upscale restaurant and part owner of The Corner Spa set down the oversize bowl of dessert and took a seat opposite Jeanette.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her expression filled with concern.
Jeanette winced. She should have known that coming here was a mistake. All of the Sweet Magnolias—the name that Maddie, Dana Sue and Helen called themselves—were too darn intuitive, to say nothing of nosy and meddlesome. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?” she replied, digging into the bread pudding.
“For starters, you almost never order dessert, much less a double serving of it. Then there’s the grim expression on your face.” Dana Sue studied her. “And the fact that Maddie called here and told me you were upset about a conversation the two of you had. She had a hunch you’d head this way.”
“Is there one single thing the three of you don’t share?” Jeanette inquired testily, shoveling in another mouthful of the homemade cinnamon ice cream that was melting over the warm dessert. If it weren’t for her state of mind, the combination of tender apples and rich ice cream would have sent her into raptures.
“We’ve had our secrets,” Dana Sue assured her. “But we also rush right in whenever one of us needs backup. You’re one of us now, you know that, don’t you?”
“No, I’m not,” Jeanette protested, though her eyes grew misty. “I didn’t grow up here. You three have known each other all your lives. You’ve been doing things together practically forever. I’m an outsider. I can’t be a Sweet Magnolia.”
“For goodness’ sake, it’s not as if we have a bylaw against it. You are if we say you are,” Dana Sue countered. “Which means we get to worry about you and meddle in your life. So tell me what happened with Maddie.”
“She didn’t fill you in?”
“All she said was that it had something to do with Christmas. Frankly, she wasn’t making a lot of sense. Nobody goes into a tailspin over Christmas.” Her expression turned thoughtful. “Unless they’ve put off shopping until Christmas Eve. But that can’t be it. It’s only September.”
“It’s definitely not about shopping,” Jeanette concurred. If she could have, she would have dropped the subject right there, but judging from Dana Sue’s quizzical expression, that wasn’t going to happen. Jeanette uttered a sigh of resignation. “She wants me to be on the town’s Christmas committee.”
“Okay,”