7
E leanor took a deep breath and squared her shoulders as she pushed open the glass door of the library's meeting room. As she stepped inside, five pairs of eyes turned to greet her, curiosity and skepticism evident in their expressions.
“There she is. The woman of the hour,” said Mildred King, the eternally chipper head librarian. Eleanor fought the urge to roll her eyes at the woman's saccharine tone.
“Hello,” Eleanor said and took a seat at the long table. She scanned the faces around her, mentally cataloging their potential reactions to her proposal.
Caleb Winters, the general store owner, offered a kind smile that she pointedly ignored. The man was nice to everyone. Then there was Sadie Kringle, the Miami transplant who'd taken over the Snowflake Sugar Shop and married Martin. Of course, Mayor Evergreen's overly perky assistant, Gloria Woodward, gave her a wide, practiced smile without even a hint of sincerity.
Bert Jones, the bank manager, spoke up. “Shall we begin? Eleanor, I believe you have a presentation for us regarding the ballroom dance fundraiser?”
Eleanor nodded stiffly, her fingers tightening around the folder in her lap. “Yes. Of course. I've prepared a detailed outline of the event.” She stood, hoping no one would notice her shaking hands as she distributed copies of her meticulously crafted plan. The room silenced, save for the sound of flipping pages as each committee member read it through. Eleanor sat back in her chair and braced herself for the inevitable criticism and judgment.
“This is quite comprehensive,” Caleb remarked. “I'm impressed, Eleanor.”
Surprise flickered across Eleanor's face before she could school her features. “Well, I'm glad you think so,” she said. “I don't do things by halves.”
As the committee members began to nod and murmur appreciatively, a flicker of confidence ignited within her. She launched into the proposal's details.
“What about judges?” Bert inquired, leaning forward with interest. “You've mentioned judges but have included no names. Do we have qualified individuals in town?”
Eleanor's eyes glinted. “As a matter of fact, I've contacted several former colleagues from my competitive dancing days and asked if they'd be interested in serving as judges.” Sending those emails out had been one of the hardest things she'd ever done. It had been years since she'd contacted any of them, and she'd expected either a curt no or no reply at all. But much to her surprise, everyone had been so gracious and happy to hear from her. “It's hard for anyone to commit as we don't yet have a date, but I've already had interest from several of them.”
A hush fell over the room. Caleb's eyebrows shot up. “Competitive dancing? Eleanor, I had no idea you had that kind of background. I knew you had once owned a dance school in Seattle, but I didn't know that you danced, at least not at that level.”
Eleanor lifted her chin, a whisper of pride creeping into her voice. “Yes, well, there's a lot you don't know about me, Caleb. My husband, Carl, and I were champion ballroom dancers.”
“That's incredible,” Gloria breathed, genuine admiration in her eyes. “Your expertise will be invaluable in making this event a success.”
Eleanor straightened her posture. “Yes. I hope it will. Now, let's discuss the finer points, shall we?”
As the meeting progressed, Eleanor became fully immersed in the planning process, her usual negativity temporarily forgotten in the face of her rekindled enthusiasm for dance.
Near the end of their allotted hour, Gloria tapped her pen against her notepad, her eyes bright. “I think I've found the perfect date. How does the weekend after Thanksgiving sound to everyone?”
A chorus of agreement rippled through the room. Sadie clapped her hands together, her voice brimming with enthusiasm. “Oh, that's great! It's our busiest time of year. There will be so many tourists here. We need to think of ways to get them involved. What about fan favorites? And we should have it in the town square. That way, everyone can watch. I know it will be cold, but we'll put up a large tent with heaters. I'm sure the staff at Martin's workshop can help us.”
Eleanor scowled. “That's all well and good, and I like your venue suggestion, but the date Gloria is proposing is only six weeks away,” she said. “It's an awfully tight timeline.”
Bert furiously wrote notes on his handout, his usually cautious demeanor replaced by uncharacteristic optimism. “But think of the potential. We could kickstart the holiday season with a bang. And let's be frank about this, people make a lot of donations during this time of year. We can't waste the opportunity.”
Caleb nodded vigorously. “I agree. It's ambitious, but I believe we can pull it off.”
Eleanor pressed her lips into a thin line, weighing their enthusiasm against her natural inclination towards pessimism, or in this case, reality. After a moment, she let out a resigned sigh. “Very well. If you're all committed to making this work, I suppose I can't object.”
“Excellent!” Gloria exclaimed, already scribbling furiously in her notepad. “Now, expect an email from me later in the week with a list of actionable items.”
The committee members agreed and packed up their items, ready to leave. Eleanor stood, gathering her papers. The nervous energy accompanying her into the meeting had transformed into determination. As she made her way to the door, she couldn't help but feel exhilarated.
The crisp Alaskan night greeted her with moonlight shining over the town square. It was beautiful and graceful. “That's it”, she said aloud. “Moonlight Over Mistletoe.” It was the perfect name for the ballroom dance competition. She'd email the committee as soon as she returned home.
She practically skipped down the street. It had been a long time since she’d felt a sense of purpose and a connection to the passion that had once defined her life.