Читать книгу Her Christmas Hero - Lorraine Beatty - Страница 11
ОглавлениеGemma waited patiently the next afternoon as the officers of the Dover Chamber of Commerce passed around her drawings for the downtown Christmas decorations. She’d received a warm welcome from everyone. She’d already met Pete McCorkle, the president, but this afternoon she’d been introduced to Celia Jones, the membership director; Jeff Wilson, director of sales; and the treasurer, Leon Skelton. They had expressed their excitement over the expansion of the Christmas celebrations. She’d also met Leatha Delmar, who would be her assistant, and who had greeted her with a warm hug and assurance that she would help with everything. As a longtime resident of Dover, Leatha’s knowledge and experience would be invaluable.
Pete studied her drawings, a pleased smile on his face. “These are wonderful. This should draw people from up in Jackson to come down and see our decorations.” He glanced at her. “Can you do this within the budget?”
“I believe so. Provided we can get the business owners on board to help. I’m hoping for a few volunteers to help me coordinate details and work with store owners. And I’ll solicit donations where I can. I’d like to incorporate the other events you have—the community dinner, the toy drive. Bring all the events together, which will ultimately help all the merchants, not just the ones around the square.”
Celia nodded in agreement. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble. For years, we’ve wanted to do more with Christmas beyond tossing up a few lights.”
“May I ask why you haven’t?”
“Money, mainly. We have two other large events and fund-raisers during the year. A Founders Day celebration in the fall, and a sidewalk sale and cook-off in the spring. It’s only been with the closure of the Southways plant that we were forced to look for another means of revenue. We decided to make more of our charming downtown and put more effort into the holiday.”
“I think that was a wise decision. Your town square is ideal for showcasing Christmas celebrations.”
Pete clasped his hands on the table. “I like your ideas and your enthusiasm. How soon can we get started on this? I’m afraid we haven’t given you much time. It’s already late October.”
Gemma kept her demeanor professional, but inside she wanted to leap for joy. “I’d like to start with a meeting of the local business owners as soon as possible. I’d also like to see what you have on hand as far as lights, signs, banners, holiday decor, things like that.”
Jeff Wilson spoke up. “That would be in the storage building over on Fifth Street. Francie Montgomery should be able to give you her key.”
Gemma bit her lip. “Oh. I’m afraid she’s out of town, and I have no idea when she’ll be home.”
Wilson waved off her concern. “No problem—Linc will know where the key is.”
She forced a smile, but inwardly she cringed. She was trying to avoid Linc—not become more involved. The memory of his unexpected visit last night sent her pulse racing and released a swarm of butterflies in her stomach. Still, she left the meeting with a confidence she hadn’t felt in a long time.
She smiled through her trip to the grocery, the bank and the drugstore. When she pulled up at the school to pick up Evan she was still smiling. Tomorrow she would take pictures of the downtown buildings so she could begin designing light displays. She’d draft an email to the business owners tonight requesting a meeting in the next couple of days. She prayed they would be willing to participate. But first she had to see what was salvageable in the storage building. Unfortunately, to do that she needed to talk to Linc again and get the key.
“Hey, Mom.” Evan slid into the front seat and buckled up.
“How did it go today?” She reached over and smoothed his hair.
“Good. I met a boy who lives near us. He said if you’ll call his mom she would let him come over to play.”
“That’s wonderful, honey. Did you get her number?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Gemma made the turn into the winding driveway of the Montgomery estate situated a few miles south of downtown Dover. The long alley of live oaks arching overhead, dripping with moss, was like a loving welcome home. Living on the Montgomery estate in the quaint cottage gave her a sense of belonging and fueled her imagination. Her mind was a tumbler of ideas all straining to spill forth and become reality.
As she made the curve to the main house she noticed Linc’s red Silverado parked in front. She would have expected him to drive a black one. It better suited his personality. She didn’t relish the idea of approaching him again. He’d probably want proof that she had permission to open the storage building.
She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. She was a professional. She’d ask for the key, then go on about her business. Piece of cake. Or in his case, pie.
“Mom, can I see if Mr. Linc can play football with me?”
“Honey, I’m sure he’s working. He’s a busy man. We shouldn’t bother him.”
“But he said he liked to play. He said I could ask him.”
Gemma stole a quick glance at her son, a twinge of sadness settling in her chest. How could she explain to her son that people often made offhand promises they didn’t really mean? She knew the heartbreak of trusting the wrong person. She didn’t want her son to know that kind of betrayal. But she couldn’t fill him with fear of others or of having friends and relationships, either. Sooner or later she knew he’d get his little heart broken and all she could do was be there to help him through it. But she’d make sure he knew that the Lord was always with him and that He was the only trustworthy presence.
Stopping beside the cottage, she switched off the engine and faced her son. “Change your clothes first, then you can go ask. But be polite and remember he might be too busy so don’t be disappointed if he says no.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
He scurried out of the car and dashed up onto the porch, fidgeting impatiently while she unlocked the door.
Within minutes he was out the door, football cradled in his arm, and racing across the lawn to the main house. She debated whether to watch him from the porch or take a more discreet position from inside. She hoped Linc would say yes, but her common sense knew he’d probably turn the boy away, leaving her to deal with the fallout.
She should have gone with him. She had a perfect excuse—she needed the key to the storage building. But subjecting herself to his dynamic personality wasn’t a good idea. Evan’s father had been a forceful, compelling man. She shook off the painful memory and hurried to her bedroom window. Leaning against the frame, she swallowed a wave of shame. She’d let her own fears and insecurities stop her from accompanying her son. But she couldn’t go with him everywhere.
She watched as Evan waited at the front door. Linc had better answer or she’d give the man a piece of her mind. He shouldn’t make careless promises to little boys. The mansion door opened and she saw Evan look up. Her son nodded. Then nodded again more slowly and turned and headed down the porch steps.
Gemma pressed a hand over her mouth. Linc was sending the boy away. She braced herself for tears. Evan ran across the lawn, but stopped midway, tossing the ball in the air.
Puzzled, she leaned closer to the window and saw Linc jogging easily toward Evan. He raised his hands and Evan tossed the ball. It fell short. Linc scooped it up and motioned Evan to his side, then proceeded to demonstrate the correct way to hold and throw the ball.
Surprise drew Gemma’s lips apart and warmth filled her chest. She’d been fully prepared for Linc to dismiss his invitation. He didn’t strike her as the kind of guy who would want to spend time with a child. She watched as Evan tossed the ball and Linc made a big show of catching it. After one toss, Linc fell to the ground and Evan threw himself on top of him. The happy smile on her son’s face tightened her throat and brought tears to her eyes. He needed this. A man to do guy things with. She’d tried to fill that void, but as a single mom it was all she could do to keep things on track. Lately, even that had been impossible.
She glanced out again and saw Linc staring at her. Her skin heated. Even across the distance and through the window, his piercing gaze caused a skip in her heartbeat. He motioned her to join them. Curious, she went out and across the lawn.
“Mom, Mr. Linc wants me to join his team. Can I?”
“Team? What kind of team?” Gemma looked at Linc for an explanation.
“I coach a kid’s football team. It’s through the church.” He shrugged. “My brother Gil is actually the coach, but I took it over when he went to Mobile. We practice twice a week after school and our games are on Saturdays. The cost is reasonable. Basically for a shirt and registration fees.”
His offer surprised her. “Football. I don’t know, Evan. It’s a rough sport.” Her expression must have revealed her concern because Linc hastened to explain.
“It’s flag football, Gemma. No helmets or pads, no tackling. They wear a belt with tear-away flags on each side. They pull the flags to tackle.”
That sounded safe. “Well, I’ll think about it.”
Evan looked up at her with soulful eyes. “Please, Mom.”
How could she refuse? This was what she’d hoped for when she’d moved here. But why did the offer have to involve Linc?
Linc ruffled Evan’s hair. “Come to the house and I’ll give you the registration packet to look over. It explains everything. And if you still have concerns you can come to the game this Saturday and see how it works.”
His consideration surprised her. Being on a team would be good for Evan. It would help him make friends and boost his confidence. She’d been too busy running her own business to find the time to take him to ball practices. Something else he’d missed out on. Along with not having a dad. “All right.” She started across the lawn. Evan hurried ahead, leaving her and Linc to walk together. “Thank you for playing with him.”
“You didn’t think I’d remember, did you?”
“No. I didn’t.”
One dark eyebrow arched. “So is it just me or do you not trust people in general?” Without waiting for an answer he pushed open the door and went inside.
Gemma stepped into the grand foyer, her interest immediately captivated by the beauty of the burled-wood panels on the walls and the broad staircase with its stained glass window on the landing. The scent of furniture polish and old wood lay thick in the air and was a testament to the loving care the home had received over the years. But what struck her most profoundly was the sense of warmth and welcome that embraced her.
Her parents’ home was large, but sleek and formal. It had been featured in a design magazine once. But no one would ever call it homey or welcoming.
Linc appeared from a doorway on the left, holding a sheet of paper in his hand. “This should tell you everything you need to know. Unfortunately the season has already started so he won’t get to play all the games listed here, but I think he’ll enjoy it.” He smiled at Evan. “The boy runs fast.”
Evan beamed. “Can I play this weekend?”
Gemma swallowed the lump in her throat. It had been a long time since she’d seen him so happy, and she owed it to Linc’s kindness. “I’ll do my best.”
Evan let out a whoop.
Linc grinned. “Just get me the paperwork and I’ll make sure he plays. We can borrow a shirt if we have to.”
Gemma squeezed her son’s shoulder. “Then, we’d better get back home and start filling out forms.”
“Thanks, Mr. Linc.”
“You’re welcome, buddy.” The pair shared a high five.
“Hey, Mr. Linc, do you know a kid named Cody Fenelli?”
“I do. His family lives up the road. His dad and I went to college together. Why?”
“I want him to come and play. Is that okay? I mean, this being your house and all.”
“Of course. I’ll give them a call. He’s on the team, too.”
“Really? Oh, wow, this is so cool.” Evan dashed out and back to the cottage.
Gemma walked to the door, searching for the right words to express her appreciation. “Thank you for this. He’s had a rough time of things lately. Playing on a team with other boys is an answer to my prayers.”
Linc set his hands on his hips, a half smile moving his lips. “I’ve never been an answer to a prayer before.”
She pressed her lips together. Leave it to him to think the comment was personal. “Oh, I doubt that. I’m sure there are plenty of females who think you’re God’s gift.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“No. I’ve known men like you. All charm on the outside, but inside no emotion and little substance. Thanks again.” She walked across the porch, acutely aware of Linc coming behind her. The man made the air around him vibrate with energy. Being near him sent odd flutters through her stomach and made her nerves all quivery. She didn’t like the sensation. Not one bit.
The key. She stopped and turned around. Linc plowed into her from behind. Her foot slipped off the porch edge, throwing her off balance.
“Whoa.”
Strong arms grabbed her waist and set her on the porch. Breathless, she fought through the confusion and found herself pressed against Linc’s chest, her hands resting over his heart, which was beating rapidly. She inhaled his woodsy aftershave deep into her lungs. She looked up into his eyes and saw concern etched in the blue depths.
She told herself to pull away. But her body refused to obey her mind’s commands. She was too surprised. Not that she was in his arms—she could rationalize that—but what had her flummoxed was the realization that Linc Montgomery was warm and very human. She’d assumed being close to him would be similar to standing in front of an open refrigerator—cool and icy. Instead of wanting to pull away, she was oddly content to remain right where she was.
Horrified at the thought, she stepped back, putting a safe distance between herself and her landlord. “Sorry. I thought of something else I wanted to ask.”
“You okay?”
“Yes. But I need the key to the Christmas storage building. They said you would know where it is?” She cleared her throat, disgusted at the shaky tremor in her voice.
Linc flashed a smile that filled his blue eyes with amusement. Arrogant man. Now he’d think he had some effect on her. Which was ridiculous. She was too smart, too battle scarred to ever let that happen again.
“I’ll go look for it right now.”
“Okay, that would be, uh...” She stared at the paper in her hands. “Great. I’ll get it when I return the forms.”
Gemma hurried down the steps, careful to not trip. Blood roared in her ears; every nerve in her body was on fire. Of all the dumb clichés. Tripping and having the big strong man catch her. Ugh. She didn’t need a big strong guy. Least of all one who had an ego larger than the entire state of Mississippi.
Safely inside the cottage, Gemma sat at the table and began filling out the form. Gil Montgomery’s name was listed as coach, and she wished he was still here to fill that role. Though she had to admit Linc had suggested the team to Evan and followed through by making sure they got the paperwork. And she couldn’t forget how he’d brought the pie. He hadn’t wanted to come, but he had because he honored his mother. A commandment she herself struggled with.
Linc was challenging her assumptions about him. She’d got a glimpse of the man behind the stony facade and it wasn’t at all what she expected. Maybe he wasn’t all bad. Just mostly.
Her conscience twitched as she remembered her words to him on the porch. Little substance. While she might believe that, she shouldn’t have voiced her opinion. She’d meant her comments to be teasing, but some of her deep-seated bitterness had crept into her tone. Linc’s eyes had filled with a flash of hurt and surprise. She’d obviously pricked his ego with her statement. She shouldn’t waste too much time feeling remorse. He’d get over it.
What mattered now was getting this paperwork back to him so Evan could play ball this weekend. Her son was her life. She’d endure anything for his sake, including standing on the sidelines while Linc coached the team.
But for some reason she still felt bad about labeling him. Even if it were true.
* * *
Linc pivoted and strode back into the house, scolding himself for letting his tenant’s words get to him. Little substance. She obviously didn’t think much of him. But what disturbed him more was the reaction she’d unleashed when he’d pulled her into his arms to keep her from falling down the brick steps.
She’d been warm and soft cradled against him. Her scent had disrupted his senses and sent his thoughts pinballing in a dozen different directions. She felt right in his arms and he’d wanted to hold her forever. She’d felt it, too. The awareness. He’d seen it in her eyes. But he also knew she’d deny it. Maybe he could change her opinion of him.
“Linc!”
He recognized the shout. His sister Victoria was here. He met her in the hall. “Hey, sis. Everything okay?”
She glanced around the room, tears welling in her eyes. “No. Nothing is okay. I miss him so much.”
He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Is there anything I can do?” Here was his chance to step up and fill in for Dad.
“No. I came to tell you that I’m going away for a while.”
Linc clenched his teeth and stepped away. Why was everyone leaving? “Tori, this is no time to be running away. We need to stick together. Mom will be home soon and she’ll need you here. She needs all of us more than ever now.”
His sister shook her head and brushed away tears. “I can’t handle being around the house without Dad here. I’m going to visit my friend Judy in California. It’ll give me time to sort things out.”
“Why can’t you do that here?”
Her eyes narrowed and she pressed her lips together. “I knew you’d say that. Why does it matter? Gil and Beth aren’t here, either.”
“Bethany is working, and Gil is fighting for custody of his daughter.”
“And I’m fighting for my sanity.” She shook her head, scowling. “I knew you wouldn’t understand. You’re not like the rest of us.”
He planted his hands on his hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You don’t feel like we do. You’re not emotional.”
He winced. Gemma had said the same thing. Didn’t they understand he felt just as deeply as anyone else? He simply chose not to expose his emotions for the world to see.
Tori reached out and touched his arm. “I’m sorry, Linc. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I know you’re hurting, too. See how upset I am? I need to get away.”
“You mean run away. Like Mom.”
“It’s not running away, it’s stepping aside and trying to deal with the grief.” She slipped her arm around his waist. “It’s too fresh here, Linc, too raw. I need to get some perspective. That’s why Mom went to Aunt Mary’s. It’s too hard to sort through the pain when you’re surrounded by memories.”
“Some of us have to stay and deal with the realities.”
“You’re the big brother. You can handle anything.” Tori patted his cheek. “I already told Mom. I’ll keep in touch, promise.”
“What about the real estate office? I thought you were running it while she’s gone.”
“Mom said to close it down. Business is slow. Besides, she’ll be home in a few days.”
Linc walked his sister to the front porch. He’d never felt as helpless, like a catfish floundering on a dock. The harder he tried to keep the family together the faster they seemed to pull away. It didn’t make any sense.
Tori stopped on the porch and faced him. “I love you, big brother. We all depend on you. Now that Dad is... You’re our rock.” She wrapped him in a warm hug.
Did Tori have any idea the weight of that responsibility? “You’ll be home for Thanksgiving, won’t you?”
“I don’t think I could celebrate without Dad here. It will be too awful.” She glanced over his shoulder and smiled.
He looked around and saw Gemma standing at the edge of the sidewalk holding the registration forms. “Done already?”
“Evan is eager to be on the team.”
“Gemma, this is my baby sister, Victoria. Tori, this is Gemma Butler, she’s...”
“Taking over Mom’s job. I know.” She stepped forward and shook Gemma’s hand. “Nice to meet you. Mom thinks you’re very talented. I can’t wait to see all the changes you’ll make. It’s about time we expanded our Christmas events. It’s the happiest time of the year and we barely do anything.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Linc started to protest, but Tori said goodbye and hurried to her car. Even Tori knew about the new tenant. Gemma handed the paperwork to Linc. “Your sister seems very nice.”
“She’s leaving. She can’t handle being around memories of Dad.” He hadn’t meant to blurt that out.
“Oh. Were they close?”
“Very. She’s the youngest so—” He shrugged. “You know how dads and their baby girls are.”
“No, actually I don’t.”
Linc looked at her. There was an emptiness and a hint of sadness in her eyes. “You’re not close to your father?”
“No. Is that all you need? I’ve attached a check.”
Linc looked at the papers. “Yeah. That should do it.”
“Fine. I’ll get directions to the ball field later. Did you find the key?”
The businesslike tone of her voice said she was eager to be away from him. “No. I haven’t had a chance to look. I didn’t expect you back so soon. I’ll let you know when I do.”
“Good. I’d like to get started. I’ve got a lot to organize.”
She walked away, leaving Linc with a lot of questions. What changes? The over-the-top stuff he’d seen in her drawings? What was wrong with their events the way they were now? And why was he always the last one to know anything lately? Even Tori, who’d been a virtual recluse these past weeks, had known about Gemma and their mother’s plans to step down from the committee. He’d had enough. Time to get involved.
He walked back inside, another question dogging his heels. What was behind the cold tone in Gemma’s voice when she mentioned family? And why did she never talk about the boy’s father?
* * *
Gemma sorted through her papers and notes Wednesday afternoon as she waited for the town square business owners to start arriving at the courthouse conference room. Her nerves tingled with excitement as she worked. This was her joy, the thing that gave her satisfaction and fulfillment. She couldn’t wait to get started.
Glancing at the door, her confidence sagged. What if no one showed up? What if the owners refused to participate in the celebrations? Closing her eyes, she offered up a quick prayer for patience and greater faith. The Lord had set her on this path, which meant He had a plan. She just needed to trust it would work out. Operative word—trust. Not an easy thing to do.
“Is this the Christmas meeting?”
Gemma smiled at the gentleman who entered the room, her doubts melting away like snowflakes. “Yes, it is.”
Within the next few minutes a good portion of the forty store owners on the square filed in. She stepped to the lectern, encouraged at the turnout. With little time before the start of the holiday season, it would take everyone’s involvement to pull off the four weekend events she had designed.
“Welcome. I’m Gemma Butler. I’ve spoken with some of you by phone and met a few of you. Thank you for being here this afternoon. I know meeting in the middle of the day is difficult for you, but we don’t have much time to get these events organized. We’ll meet again next Thursday evening. I’ll have a more detailed plan drawn up at that time.” Gemma smiled around the room. “Keep in mind the key ingredient is enthusiasm and determination. And of course a lot of elbow grease.”
A man in the front row spoke up. “I don’t mind the work, but I don’t have the money to spend on lots of decorations.”
“I understand that, and we do have a budget that will help you with some of the expenses. Mainly I want to work with each merchant to craft a unique holiday display that will reflect your business. Our goal is to draw people to Dover to learn about your shops, to expose them to the unique personality of the town and make them want to make future trips to Dover to spend their time and their money.”
A woman raised her hand. “I’m an insurance agent. Putting up a tree in my front window isn’t likely to gain me any new clients. I’m reluctant to spend too much time on Christmas events that won’t help my bottom line.”
“That raises a good point. I’d like you to think of this on a larger scale than one business. It’s true some of your businesses lend themselves to the holidays more than others—the dress shops and gift shops, for example. But if visitors see how your community works together for the good of all, think what kind of message that sends. That would make Dover a place I’d want to visit, perhaps even come to live, and that would benefit every business in town.”
Agreeable murmurs traveled through the room. “I’ve heard about the way this town comes together. One of the first things I heard was the way everyone worked together recently to get the library open on time. And I understand you all participated in a home-rebuilding project to help a local family. That’s the kind of dedication we need now. Let me run through the events quickly. One for each December weekend. Though the Chamber will mainly be responsible for the events in the first two.”
Gemma shuffled the papers in front of her. “Week one will be the Dover Glory Lights kickoff, a special lighting ceremony to start the season. Instead of each store doing their own lights, there will be an overall plan for the downtown. All the lights will be hung on the buildings, over the streets around the square, and the decorations for the courthouse park will be set up. On Friday night, vendors will offer food and drink and at one point, all the lights downtown will go dark. Then we’ll throw the switch and turn on all the decorations at once. It will be breathtaking. People will come from miles to see the large light display.”
A woman on the aisle nodded. “That’s true. We drive all the way to Natchitoches, Louisiana, every year to see those lights along the Cane River.”
“Exactly! And the second weekend in December will be our open-house weekend to showcase our businesses with our decorated windows. I’d like you each to be thinking of a way to create a Christmas window display that will evoke the spirit of the season and your company. There will be a contest for the top five windows. Visitors can vote here in town or online. Davis Blaylock at the Dover Dispatch is offering two months’ free advertising for the winners.”
A voice from the back called out, “I could sure use that.”
Gemma spent the next forty-five minutes answering questions and assuring people that her weekend events could be accomplished with cooperation, minimum of cost and plenty of professional help. As she concluded the meeting she sensed excitement in the air. A swell of joy filled her throat. The owners were in agreement that pumping up the holiday events was vital to recuperating some of the sales lost when the Southways plant closed down last year and tossed over a hundred people out of work.
Several owners stopped by to express their delight in the events and pledge their support. Now it was up to her to make the necessary arrangements and coordinate all the bits and pieces.
“What happened to the Christmas parade?”
Gemma started at the sound of the deep voice. Linc’s voice. It was hard to ignore once you’d heard it. Rich and smooth, it flowed along her nerves like warm honey. She looked into his blue eyes and suddenly found it difficult to swallow. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve been in the back, listening to your pitch.”
His intense navy blue eyes zeroed in on her, making her forget his question. “The parade?”
“It’s a tradition. Has been since I was a kid. We all looked forward to it each year. There’s going to be a lot of kids disappointed if it’s canceled.”
Linc’s tone suggested that she should reinstate it at once. But she knew what he didn’t. “I doubt that. According to the reports I have the parade has shrunk in size over the last five years, and attendance has fallen to a trickle.” She tapped an app on her cell and swiped to the right page. “Last year there were only three floats, a fire truck and the Santa float. One police officer was assigned for crowd control and the parade lasted barely fifteen minutes.” She smiled up at Linc. “Is that the tradition you’re referring to?” A muscle in Linc’s jaw flexed.
“I know you’re new here and you’re not familiar with our Christmas traditions. But we cherish our celebrations. We like the way it’s been done in the past. It works for us.”
She raised her chin and planted a hand on her hip. “Actually, it doesn’t work. Business has fallen sharply over the past three years. When Southways closed it got worse. The Chamber has hired me to turn things around by making Christmas in Dover more appealing to people who will spend money in the stores and restaurants.”
Linc crossed his arms and looked down his nose. “Surely you can come up with a compromise that will preserve our traditions and still attract tourists.”
“Like a parade?”
“Yes. My mother was in charge of that for years and everyone loved it.”
“Are you aware that there are six holiday parades around the area? Several in Jackson and the suburbs that are much larger and draw the bulk of the crowds. You have to give people more reason to come to Dover than just a puny parade.”
“What if we don’t want more people in Dover?”
“You’re a businessman—is that what you really want?”
“What I want is to keep our cherished traditions intact.”
“Traditions are habits with no meaning. Most people don’t even know why or how they got started.”
“You’re wrong. They are important rituals that remind us of our past, of our roots and our history.”
Gemma crossed her arms over her chest. “Really? Then, why does the courthouse put up a red star on the dome every year?” She almost laughed at the stunned look on Linc’s face. He clearly had no answer for her. “It was donated to the city in 1972 to honor longtime mayor Louis Carswell. Is that part of the history you cherish?”
She scooped up her satchel and headed for the door, eager to make her escape while Linc was still stunned. He quickly caught up with her.
“You’re deliberately twisting things.”
She stopped and faced him. “No. I’m pointing out the flaw in your reasoning. Tradition is useless sentiment. Comfort food for the brain. I’m here to create events that will bring joy and happiness to people, to let them have fun and experience Christmas to the fullest.”
“Are you talking about the commercial Christmas or the real one?
“Both.”
“Not possible.”
“Of course it is. If your heart is in the right place. Good night, Linc.”
Gemma walked to her car with a smile on her face. She was actually coming to enjoy these little skirmishes with Linc. It might be fun toppling some of that arrogance. What he didn’t realize was that every time he challenged her it only made her more determined to make the Dover Christmas celebrations the biggest and flashiest she possibly could.
Take that, Mr. Linc.
