Her Christmas Hero

“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.”