Chapter 8
"You'll have to try some of this, it's delicious." Roland McBride held up a spoonful of what looked like a fajita soup. "I've gotta get the recipe for this." He mumbled as he nodded and then walked away.
Noah grinned. It was a little hard to imagine Roland cooking. But he knew the man did. He'd seen his dishes at church potluck suppers and different community events over the years.
Roland had been a bit of the black sheep of the McBride family, but he'd settled down in the last few years, and no small part of that was because of his wife, Nellie.
Noah glanced between the two of them as Roland insisted his wife try some of his soup, holding up his spoon and waiting for her to open her mouth.
She looked long-suffering as she did so, and then her eyes opened wide, and apparently she liked it.
Roland became animated, and the two of them turned together and walked toward the refreshment table.
Noah grinned and then looked down at his own plate, devoid of any soup. Maybe he should've tried some.
He supposed if he went back up, he would. But he'd been keeping an eye out for Grace. He kind of hoped she'd show up.
Everyone who attended had brought a little something to eat, which Noah appreciated. Now that he was on his own, regular meals were almost a thing of the past. What was the point in cooking for just one?
He pressed his lips together and tried not to go down that rabbit hole.
He'd get used to it. Plenty of people lived by themselves and were completely content.
And he'd done it for years almost, since his youngest sibling had gone to college and had only been home on weekends.
Still, while they were in college, he still felt responsible and had regular phone conversations with them over friends and grades and work.
Not like now, where his job was basically over.
He chatted with a few of the townspeople who walked up to him before it was time to call the meeting to order.
He always ran the meetings, or at least got them started. Today he didn't have a whole lot to do, because the committees would be giving their reports.
Just as he was walking up to the podium, his phone dinged.
He glanced at Dr. Terry Landis, looking tired but exceptionally happy as she snuggled her newborn baby, with her husband Judd's arm around them.
They were talking to Marjorie McBride, who sat in a chair with a blanket over her lap. She looked thin and frail and much different than she had even last year. Whatever health issues she was fighting, she apparently had not overcome them.
He'd been praying for her on a daily basis, both morning and evening. She was such a pillar of the community, he couldn't imagine life in Mistletoe Meadows without her.
He was a little distracted, thinking about Marjorie, as he glanced at his phone, and then, he had to slow down and read again to fully understand what was going on.
His stomach dropped, and dread felt like a lead vest sitting on his shoulders.
How was he going to tell the town this?
"We gonna get started?" someone asked, but Noah barely glanced at them and couldn't say who it was. He needed to think. There had to be a way to figure this out.
But he didn't have time. He needed to get the meeting started, and he would have to present this to the community without a solution of his own. This wasn't the kind of news that could wait.
As he looked up from the podium, he was surprised to see Grace standing in the back.
So she came after all.
His eyes wanted to linger on her, to see if she was okay after the emotional time she'd had in church, especially with the music, but he didn't have that kind of luxury.
He had to get the meeting started, and no one else was going to do it for him.
Somehow, he always seemed to land these roles.
Taking care of his siblings, leading the community in whatever project they were doing, and even with his newest, most secret job.
Somehow the mantle of being in charge of that had fallen on his shoulders.
He glanced at Roland. He could thank his friend for that.
"Welcome everyone. If everyone could quiet down, we'll get started. You can keep eating though. I have it on good authority that the fajita soup is delicious."
A murmur went through the crowd, and Dr. Hannah Reynolds grinned. He suspected the soup was hers, especially when Ben Tucker, town policeman who was also in charge of the security and health committee along with Hannah, bent down with a grin on his face and said something in her ear.
She beamed even more.
"I'm just taking a wild stab, but I'd say it’s Dr. Hannah's. So that means it’s probably healthy too. If there's any left after the meeting, you better grab some."
A couple of people got up at that moment, which was fine. People didn't need to sit in chairs the entire time he was talking. Everyone was always respectful and quiet, and that was all he needed.
Although, he wouldn't mind a distraction right now. He hated to have to bring this up to the town, but they might as well get started on it first.
"Normally I let all the other committees say their piece first, and I report last, but I just got an email that I feel needs to be addressed immediately."
He didn't mean to pause for dramatic effect.
His pause was more to figure out how exactly he was going to say this to his community.
The people he worked with. The people he loved and who put their heart and soul into the Christmas festival every year.
After all, when you live in a town called Mistletoe Meadows, you could hardly not do Christmas big.
"I just got an email from the band we put a deposit on. We went a little wild and crazy on this band. They're nationally known, and we booked them almost two years ago, since this is our thirtieth Mistletoe Meadows Christmas Festival, and we were going extra large."
They'd had so many hopes and dreams, and so many of them were hinged on this band.
"Bottom line, they're not going to be able to make it." He didn't need to say exactly why. They could talk about that if they wanted to. Here was the information that really mattered. "They say that we're not getting our deposit back."
A murmur went through the crowd. But, for those who didn't know, he felt like he needed to continue.
"It was far more than what we usually pay.
About 75% of the Christmas festival budget.
We were planning on this being a major, major moneymaker for the town and for it to more than cover not just the fee for the band, but the entire budget for the Christmas festival.
" He could feel the tightening in his chest. The anxiety that squeezed his stomach.
He knew he would get calm. He always did, but he hated that he had to say this.
"Needless to say, we're in a really hard spot financially with the Christmas festival.
Not only are we losing 75% of our budget with apparently no hope of getting it back, although I will definitely be having a lawyer look into this, but we also are not going to have the income that we thought we were. "
"Unless we can replace it with something else," Jones Quebedeau said.
There was a murmur of agreement.
"I just got this message literally as I was stepping up to the podium. I have no suggestions, but I am definitely open to ideas."
There was more murmuring as people chatted amongst each other. His eyes swept over the crowd, and they landed on Grace. She was looking at him, but as their eyes met, she yanked hers away and turned immediately, heading toward the door and walking quietly out, slipping quickly away.
He wanted to leave the podium and go after her. But this was where he belonged. He had responsibilities, and he couldn't just leave them. Maybe some people could. But that was how he had ended up raising his siblings. Because someone had to take responsibility for them, and that seemed to be him.
"What do you think the chances are of getting that deposit back?" Wilson McBride, standing with his wife, Charity, asked over the din of other voices chatting amongst themselves. Everyone quieted as they heard his question.
"I have to be honest. I'm not sure. They said in the contract that we had agreed to a nonrefundable deposit.
But, the way I think these things usually work is it's nonrefundable if we cancel.
If they cancel, we get a refund. But this is not really my area, which is why I said I would be having a lawyer at least look into it.
If it seems like it's worth pursuing, I hate to go that route, but we're talking about a lot of money.
" But now he had to say the kicker. "But that's not going to happen overnight.
These things take time, and I would be willing to bet it'll be a month, two, or even a year until we see any money back.
So, for now, we need to plan the Christmas festival as though it's not coming.
And then, we need to do everything we can to make sure we get it. "
Wilson nodded, and Jones, who was standing right beside him, said, "I have a good lawyer.
If you need me to get him to look at it, I can.
I'll pay for it too. I get that we need to come up with a different idea for our festival, but we also don't want to just lose this money, to roll over and take it if they owe us our deposit back. "
"I agree completely, and I will get your email address later and forward the contract and the information to you so you can take it to your lawyer tomorrow."
"I'll be on it first thing," Jones said with a nod of his head.
His wife, Amy, who used to be a McBride, looked up and smiled at her husband. The smile held worry and concern, though. Which was not the way Noah wanted the Christmas festival to go. He wanted people to enjoy it. To have a good time. Not to worry about financial things.