16
E leanor considered herself a morning person, but the harsh ring of the telephone at 7am pierced through Eleanor's brain and her routine. With a huff, she set down her cup of coffee and shuffled to answer it, her slippered feet scraping across the worn hardwood floor.
“Hello?” she answered, her voice clipped with annoyance.
“Eleanor! What on earth is going on? Get down here right away,” the mayor's voice burst through the receiver.
“Can't it wait? I'm in the middle of my breakfast,” Eleanor began, but the mayor abruptly hung up.
Eleanor glared at the phone, her lips pursed. “This can't be good. Good news always waits for a decent hour.”
With a resigned sigh, she hurried to her bedroom, swapping her house dress for a proper outfit and securing her gray hair into its bun. As she grabbed her coat and purse, she couldn't help thinking of all the things that could have gone wrong.
The walk into town was mercifully short, but a range of possibilities, each more outlandish than the last, flashed through Eleanor's mind. With her imagination running wild, she conjured up images from a two-headed moose running wild to a sinkhole that swallowed downtown.
Eleanor's jaw dropped as she rounded the corner to the town square. There, dominating the center of Mistletoe, stood an enormous translucent dome, shimmering like a giant soap bubble. Not only did it encompass the entire area where the dance competition was to be held, but the entire town square sat inside it, including the giant tree at the center.
“What in the world?” Eleanor breathed, her eyes fixed on the impossible structure.
“Over here,” Gloria called out. “I don't know how you did it, but it's magnificent. The mayor is already inside. Come on.” She grabbed Eleanor's arm, practically dragging her through one of the entrances.
The interior was even more astonishing—a climate-controlled environment protected it from the raging winds, with strings of twinkling lights crisscrossing overhead and a disco ball like a giant moon in the center.
Mayor Evergreen gazed around in awe. “Eleanor, how did you do this?” he asked as Eleanor and Gloria approached him.
Eleanor blinked, momentarily bewildered. “Me? I didn't—” She paused, remembering her conversation with Christopher. “Christopher Kringle, you know, Martin and Jack's grandfather, well, last night he mentioned he had an idea to protect the area from the winds, but I never imagined this.”
As Gloria and the mayor chattered on about the dome's features, Eleanor's mind whirled. How could Christopher have possibly arranged this overnight? It defied all logic and reason. It was as if it appeared by magic.