Chapter 44
If Graham was hallucinating, though, he sure wasn’t alone. “Holiday with the Wholesomes?!” he heard his mother exclaim. “I love the old black-and-white! Graham, why didn’t you tell me your friends in LA were doing a remake!”
It was all he could do to simply rub his eyes at the scene playing out before him. All around, the people of Mistletoe Grove—friends and neighbors he’d practically grown up with—stood in awe at the A-list event suddenly thrust upon them.
Mr. Burns would have his hide for this.
That was a problem for another day, though.
One problem that couldn’t wait, however, was the sight Graham took in next. Peeling around the corner, there arrived not only the news van from Hollywood Today, but an entire press corps that, based on the looks of it, contained every celebrity media outlet in all of LA.
Graham swallowed down what felt like a volleyball inside his throat. “Oh, boy.”
Before panic could seize him completely, though, he found himself pulled aside.
“Sorry I went behind your back,” a sheepish Coco admitted. “I wasn’t sure you’d go for it.”
A beat of silence passed as a still-dumbfounded Graham sought to pull himself together. “This…this was all you?” He surveyed the buzzy scene around them, still in disbelief at the posh, glitzy spectacle Coco had put together in seemingly no time at all.
The starlet shrugged, modest. “You’re not upset, are you?”
“I was positive I’d find you dancing on some tabletop,” Graham confessed. He stroked his chin, thinking. “So, when you snuck out earlier, it wasn’t to ditch us for some wild party?”
“Wild party?” Coco burst out. “How could I waste time partying when I was busy putting together all this?”
She certainly had him there. Graham soaked up the red carpet-worthy event around them.
As someone who’d planned dozens of these shindigs back in LA—and had the gnawed-off fingernails to prove it—he knew firsthand that pulling off an extravaganza like this was no small feat.
And Coco had whipped this together seemingly out of thin air.
“I just don’t understand.” He rubbed his temples, processing. “Why?”
A rosy hue colored Coco’s cheeks. “I did it for you, Graham.”
The response seemed to fry her counterpart’s motherboard. “Me?”
“Sure,” Coco went on. “I know you don’t like to show it—and it certainly makes sense why—but this town, Graham, what it stands for…I can tell that, deep down, it matters to you.”
Despite the frenzy around them, everything in that moment went perfectly still between the two. A deep, inward gaze took hold on Graham’s face as if he couldn’t quite decide how he wanted to respond.
“It’s OK,” Coco finally filled the silence.
“I promise your secret’s safe with me. When I saw what dire straits your hometown was in, I wanted to do something to help.
I mean, come on, the fact that there isn’t a Saks or a Bloomie’s to be seen here is sad enough on its own.
The thought of this quaint, old-fashioned town dying out for good, and at Christmastime no less, it’s heartbreaking, Graham.
So, I got to thinking. If what Mistletoe Grove needs is a little star power, what better way than to bring the star power to Mistletoe Grove? ”
Not a bad idea, if Graham did say so himself.
Apart from the fact, of course, that this was bound to make Mr. Burns go ballistic.
Again, a problem for another day.
A pang of guilt twisted in his gut. Prior to this trip, anyone who asked him what he thought of his most demanding client would have gotten his boilerplate response: Coco Holliday was nothing more than a spoiled, self-centered Hollywood brat whose deepest concerns began and ended with where to find the next hot party.
The woman standing before him now, though, could not possibly have been further from that.
Perhaps Mistletoe Grove had been good for them both.
A tingle stirred inside him that he decided to ignore. “But Coco, your grandmother. I thought you wanted to walk the red carpet for her…you know, at the Chinese Theatre…in LA.”
The tenderness of the moment quickly shattered to pieces at the sound of his mother shouting. “Grandmother?”
The next thing Graham knew, his mother had sandwiched herself between him and Coco.
“Not grandmother as in…” Her face contorted then as if performing mental gymnastics. “Iris Wintergreen? The star of the original Holiday with the Wholesomes?” Aghast, she clutched Coco’s hand as the revelation hit her. “Iris Wintergreen’s granddaughter just spent Christmas Eve in my very own home.”
A knowing glance passed discreetly between Graham and Coco. They both did their best to suppress amused grins.
Just then, the sound of another voice Graham recognized seized the moment again.
“Graham, my boy, you have got some explaining to do.”
He felt as if a brick had just landed in his stomach.
It was Mr. Burns.
In the flesh.
Standing before Graham’s very eyes.
“Hiya, boss,” chirped a nervous Orlando emerging from behind LA’s most infamous power broker.
Coco elbowed Graham in the ribs to make sure he didn’t faint.
“Mr. Burns, what a surprise!” Graham shot to attention instantly.
His boss stroked his chin, eyeing the scene around them with a scrutiny that made Graham want to disappear beneath a rock.
Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck. “I can explain, sir.” His mind raced at warp-speed to cook up an excuse. Burns’ instructions had left no room for error: Keep Coco out of sight in this small, godforsaken hamlet, then make sure her movie premiere back in sunny LA went off without a hitch.
Based on the three-ring circus of holiday cheer currently surrounding them, though, somehow the last fifteen minutes had spiraled both of those directives into complete and utter disaster.
And the penance for this embarrassment of a dumpster fire? Graham’s head on the chopping block.
Perhaps he could get his real estate license. Hell, maybe become a plumber.
“I just don’t understand,” Burns said, scratching his head at the hubbub around them. “I give you a simple, straightforward job. Nothing crazy, nothing wild. Just a clear, simple assignment.”
“Now, you wait just a minute.”
Graham, to his horror, spun around to Brent marching toward them on a warpath.
The sight made him instantly go weak in the knees.
Still, he signaled for Brent to slow his roll. Now was no time for a knight in shining armor. Graham had to handle this himself.
“I hear you, Mr. Burns.” Normally, he wasn’t one to grovel, but now was no time for letting pride get in the way.
Burns raised his hand to silence his subordinate. “Save your breath, hot shot.”
All around, the square became quiet as the scene drew the crowd’s attention.
Oh, great, Graham thought to himself. Just what he needed. Not only was he about to have his ass handed to him, but apparently, it was about to happen before his entire hometown.
This trip would end in public humiliation.
Brent positioned himself firmly at Graham’s side as Burns paced before the group.
“Graham, my boy,” his boss began to pontificate, “you’ve been with our firm, what, ten years?”
“Eleven this July,” Graham responded, ever the dutiful employee.
Burns returned a sphinxlike nod. “And over that time, your ability to follow orders has been second to none. You’ve taken your instructions gracefully, avoided unnecessary questions, and done what needs to be done. Every time, without failure.”
A brewing unease swirled in Graham’s gut. “I understand what you’re saying, sir—”
Again, Burns silenced his underling with his hand. A long silence stretched as Burns surveyed their surrounds.
Graham wondered if this was what prisoners once felt like standing before the gallows.
“Holiday twinkle lights, trees trimmed in ribbon.” Burns scratched his head in disbelief. “This entire town squeezed together in this park…and your client’s new movie—which is supposed to be opening in LA tomorrow—at the center of it all.”
Graham swallowed down a lump as he willed his knees not to fail. “I know it’s not exactly as we imagined, sir.”
“You can say that again. Do you know how many months this red carpet premiere has been in planning, Graham? And somehow, overnight, you throw out the playbook entirely and pull together…this?” He gestured at the sparkling event around them. “It’s…it’s…inconceivable.”
Graham could practically feel the look of pity weighing on him then from Brent.
From Coco.
From his mother.
From the Mayor.
From the whole town of Mistletoe Grove gathered around.
And just when he’d thought that maybe, just maybe, Christmas could have been worth a second chance.
“I’ll clear out my desk Monday,” Graham said, head hung.
Not even the thousands of lights strung about the square could have kept the moment from dimming then.
“You’d better,” Mr. Burns replied coolly. “Because you, my friend, have a corner office with your name on it.”
Graham pulled a sudden double take. What had his boss just said?
“I’m sorry, did you just—”
“Not a thing to be sorry for, my boy.” Burns dealt him a hearty pat on the back. “Well, maybe a heads-up would have been nice, but—”
“So, I’m not getting fired?”
Burns looked at Graham like he’d just sprouted a second head. “Fired? Whatever for, young man? The studio is thrilled.”
The whole world around Graham swirled like he’d just spun upside-down. This must have been some kind of stress-induced hallucination.
Right?
“Holy herald angels singing,” Coco’s voice suddenly burst out. “We’re trending!” She raised up her smartphone, its screen flooded with social media posts raving over the impromptu premiere.
“Wow.” Graham addressed the press corps posted up at the side. “You guys really do work fast.”
Quickly, he found himself swept up again by Mr. Burns.
“You’ve always been a rule-follower, Graham.
And it’s made you a top-notch employee.” He wrapped a chummy arm around his still-reeling underling.
“But being a vice president, that takes swinging big. And this”—he gestured to their festive, glowing surrounds—“is a big swing indeed. What got into you, boy?”
Graham tossed a furtive glance at Brent. “Hard to say, really.”
He did his best not to read into the smile on Brent’s face that didn’t quite reach his eyes.