Chapter 6
Six
HOLLY
Volunteered for Disaster
I was halfway through my second cup of coffee the morning after bumping into Declan Hayes in town.
I was happy hiding out for the rest of the festive period, so I didn’t have to see him again.
He was perfectly put together and charming, and I was a hot mess, albeit one who still took pride in my appearance.
That had to count. Maybe. But the more I thought about showing my face, the more I felt like becoming a forest witch and living in isolation in a burlap sack with twigs in my hair.
The thought grew more appealing when Mom burst into the kitchen with the kind of bright-eyed enthusiasm that could only mean trouble.
“Holly, sweetheart, I have the most wonderful news!” she announced, setting down her phone and beaming at me like she’d just won the lottery. “Jessica Peterson called, and you’ve been selected to co-chair this year’s Christmas festival!”
I choked on my coffee. Actually choked, sputtering and coughing while Mom rushed to pat my back with the kind of vigorous helpfulness that made breathing even more difficult.
“Excuse me? Co-chair?” I wheezed when I could finally speak. “Mom, I just got home. I don’t even have a job. I can’t co-chair anything, besides that’s Matt’s job!”
“Of course you can! You’re perfect for it—organized, creative, wonderful with people. And you’ll have help, which makes it even better.”
I have the sinking feeling this was less of a choosing and more of a meddling.
There was something ominous in the way she said ‘help,’ like she was delivering good news that she knew I wouldn’t initially appreciate.
“What kind of help?” I asked suspiciously.
“Declan Hayes volunteered to co-chair with you!” Mom’s smile was so bright it could have powered the Christmas lights. “Isn’t that wonderful? You two will be amazing together!”
Amazing. Together. Thoughts of us tangled in tinsel, lips inches apart, hands where they shouldn’t be entered my head, and I stifled the cough that burst out.
This. Was. A. Disaster.
Perfect, successful, devastatingly handsome Declan Hayes, who’d seen me taking out trash in my pajamas when I was a teenager, with spots and bushy eyebrows, while he looked like he rolled out of bed ready to impress.
He probably felt sorry for the pathetic hometown failure living in her childhood bedroom.
“Mom, no. Absolutely not. I am not co-chairing anything with Declan.”
“Why on earth not? He’s such a lovely young man, so accomplished and thoughtful.”
Yeah, and gorgeous and successful with his big city life. Why would he want to get dragged into the Everdale Falls Christmas Festival planning?
Suddenly, the pieces fell into place. This meant either Matt had volunteered us both without asking, or Declan felt obligated to help manage his best friend’s disaster of a sister in his sudden work-related absence that went down like a ton of bricks with the folks late last night.
Either option made me want to crawl under the kitchen table and stay there until Christmas was over.
“I can’t do this,” I said, reaching for my phone. “I need to call Matt and get out of this.”
“Holly Marie Winters, you are not getting out of anything.” Mom’s voice carried the tone that had convinced me to apologize to Tommy Morrison for kicking him in the shins in third grade, even though he’d definitely deserved it.
“This festival is important to our community, and you’re exactly what it needs. ”
“I’m exactly what it needs to be a complete disaster,” I corrected. “Mom, I just got fired after being evicted because my ex-boyfriend stole all my money. I am not in the headspace to organize a community festival.”
“You organized your entire sorority’s formal events in college.
You planned Matt’s graduation party for sixty people and managed every detail perfectly.
You coordinated that charity auction that raised twelve thousand dollars.
” Mom sat down across from me with the expression of someone preparing for battle.
“Getting fired from one job doesn’t erase every competent thing you’ve ever done.
” She pointedly ignored the rest of my woes.
“But working with Declan—”
“Will be lovely. He’s home for the holidays, probably looking for ways to keep himself occupied, and you need something positive to focus on.”
The casual way she said it made my chest tight with embarrassment. Something positive to focus on. Like I was a problem that needed managing instead of an adult woman capable of handling her own life.
“I don’t need a pity project, Mom.”
“This isn’t pity, sweetheart. This is Jessica Peterson recognizing that you have skills the festival needs.” Mom reached across the table to squeeze my hand.
I wanted to argue, but the truth was that beneath the panic and embarrassment, there was a tiny spark of something that might have been interest. The Everdale Falls Christmas Festival was a big deal—three days of vendors, entertainment, and community celebration that drew visitors from surrounding towns.
If I could pull it off successfully, it would prove that getting fired, evicted and duped wasn’t a reflection of my actual abilities.
But working with Declan...
“When is the first planning meeting?” I asked reluctantly.
“Today at two o’clock. Jessica wants to brief you both on the basics, and then you’ll take over from there.”
Today. As in, six hours from now. As in, barely enough time to have a complete nervous breakdown and then pull myself together enough to appear competent in front of the man who represented everything I’d failed to achieve.
“I need to call Matt,” I said, grabbing my phone with desperate determination.
The call went straight to voicemail. I tried again. Voicemail. I sent a text in caps lock, so he knew I meant business: CALL ME IMMEDIATELY. EMERGENCY.
Nothing.
I tried his work number, his personal cell, and even his office landline, which he never answered. Every call went to voicemail, and every text disappeared into the void of whatever crisis was consuming his attention in Boston.
“He’s probably in meetings,” Mom said gently. “You know how demanding his job is.”
“This is his fault,” I sulked, staring at my phone like I could will it to ring. “The least he could do is answer when I need to panic at him.”
“Maybe he knew you’d try to talk yourself out of something good for you.”
Call me paranoid, but that sounded suspiciously like they were plotting against me.
I spent the next three hours alternating between trying to reach Matt and spiraling into increasingly dramatic mental scenarios about how badly I was going to embarrass myself in front of Declan.
By one o’clock, I’d convinced myself that Mrs. Peterson had chosen me as some kind of charity case, that Declan had found out and volunteered out of pity, and that I was going to prove my professional incompetence to the entire town.
Which brought me to the current crisis: what to wear to a festival planning meeting with the most successful person I knew, while I was masquerading as a total loser.
I stood in front of my childhood closet, now filled with my adulthood wardrobe, trying to find something that said I was a competent professional rather than a recently homeless and fired failure living with her parents, while trying to look cozy at the same time.
Everything was either too professional, screamed job interview desperation, or gave up on life entirely to live in sweats.
I finally settled on dark jeans, ankle boots, a blue blouse and a soft gray cardigan that looked put-together without trying too hard. Dignified but approachable. Competent but not overdressed for a small-town festival meeting.
Then I spent twenty minutes on makeup, trying to achieve the perfect balance of being naturally glowing, and that said, she definitely had her life together.
If I were going to humiliate myself, I might as well look good doing it.
At 1:45, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, giving myself a pep talk that felt more like battle preparation.
“You can do this,” I told my reflection. “You organized events in college. You managed marketing campaigns that actually succeeded, before everything went wrong. You know this town, you know these people, and you are not going to let Declan Hayes see you fail.”
My reflection looked skeptical.
“Fine,” I amended. “You’re going to try really hard not to let Declan Hayes see you fail. And if you do fail, you’ll fail with dignity and excellent hair.”
At least my hair did look good. I’d managed to blow-dry it into waves that looked effortless but actually required forty-five minutes of careful styling. Small victories.
I grabbed my purse, my coat, and what remained of my dignity, and headed downstairs to face whatever fresh humiliation awaited me at the Everdale Falls Community Center.
“You look lovely, sweetheart,” Mom said as I passed through the kitchen. “Declan is going to be so impressed.”
“I’m not trying to impress Declan,” I lied. “I’m trying to look like someone who can organize a festival without everything catching fire.”
“Same thing,” Mom said with a knowing smile that made me want to flee back upstairs.
The drive to the community center took exactly four minutes, which wasn’t nearly enough time to complete my mental preparation but was definitely long enough to second-guess every choice I’d made in the last forty-eight hours.
I sat in the parking lot for three full minutes, watching other cars arrive and trying to work up the courage to walk inside.
Mrs. Peterson’s ancient Buick. The Johnsons’ pickup truck.
And then, because my life was apparently determined to test my emotional resilience, Declan’s expensive car pulled into the space directly next to mine.
He got out of his car looking like he’d stepped off the pages of a catalog for successful young professionals. Dark wool coat perfectly fitted jeans, the kind of casual confidence that came from knowing you were unfairly hot and successful.
I took a deep breath, checked my lipstick one more time, and got out of my car before I could lose my nerve completely.
“Holly,” he said, and his smile was warm and genuine and completely free of the pity I’d been dreading. “Perfect timing.”
“Hi,” I managed, proud that my voice sounded relatively normal. “Ready for this?”
“As ready as anyone can be for festival planning with Mrs. Peterson,” he said, falling into step beside me as we walked toward the building.
“Fair warning—I did some research on previous years, and apparently, we’re responsible for everything from vendor coordination to making sure the Christmas tree doesn’t fall over. ”
“Everything?” I repeated, my stomach dropping. Research? He researched this? I’m doomed.
“According to the committee notes I found online, yes. But don’t worry—I figure between your organizational skills and my complete inability to say no to community volunteers, we’ve got this covered.”
The casual way he mentioned my organizational skills, made me narrow my eyes. How does he know about any of my skills?
“Your complete inability to say no?” I jibed instead of asking the question burning on my tongue.
“How do you think I ended up volunteering for this in the first place?” he said, grinning at me with the kind of self-deprecating humor that made him seem less intimidatingly perfect and more like someone I could actually work with.
“I thought Matt might’ve had something to do with it.”
He paused at the community center door, looking down at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “I think we’ll make a good team.”
“I hope so,” I said, and for the first time since Mom’s announcement that morning, I actually meant it.
Declan held the door open for me, and as we walked into the community center together, I realized that maybe being volunteered for festival planning wasn’t the disaster I’d assumed it would be.
It might actually be exactly what I needed.