Chapter 7
JOY
Ifelt like I was sitting outside the principal’s office waiting to get my punishment for one misstep or another. I had plenty of experience sitting in hard chairs and awaiting my fate after I messed up.
Technically this wasn’t school and I was twenty-seven years old, but the sinking feeling in my stomach was exactly the same.
The chairs outside the mayor’s office were hard. It smelled faintly of lemon polish and fake pine. I hated those air fresheners that tried to pretend it smelled anything like Christmas.
It didn’t. It just stunk.
My knee bounced and I had to fight the urge to bite my nails.
“I shouldn’t be here,” I whispered to Aunt Victoria. “This was a terrible idea. I should just wait tables. Learn to knit. Anything but this.”
She gave me a look over her glasses. “Joy, you messed up the hot chocolate. You didn’t commit arson.”
“The fire alarm went off,” I hissed. “The kids had to evacuate. Firemen had to show up. That’s basically one step away from arson.”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being realistic.”
“You’re being dramatic and realistic, which is a very Joy Murphy combination.” She patted my knee, forcing it to stop bouncing. “Listen, sweetheart. There is a learning curve. Everyone has one. You’ll get adjusted.”
“I shouldn’t be involved in the fest,” I muttered, staring at the mayor’s frosted glass door. “I’ll just mess it all up.”
My aunt smirked. “Well, if you do, at least it’ll be memorable. That’s half of event planning—making sure people talk about it afterward. And there are always little mishaps. It’s what makes it exciting.”
“Yeah, and nothing says festive like remember when the cafeteria almost went up in flames?”
“Joy.” Her tone softened, but it had that firm undercurrent that meant she wasn’t letting me wriggle out of this. She really wanted me to take over her role in the planning committee.
“Are you sick?” I blurted out.
“What?”
“Why are you so determined to pass the torch?” I asked. “Are you ill?”
She laughed. “Honey, I’m healthy as a horse. I’m not going anywhere. At least not six feet under. I might travel. I would like to have my time freed up. You’re young. You’ve got your finger on the pulse of America. You know what people like. It’s time to breathe new blood into this thing.”
“I did advertising.”
“Same thing.”
It kind of was.
“And my company fired me,” I reminded her.
She waved a hand. “And they’re fools. You’re talented.”
“You’re my aunt. You have to think that. The mayor is probably going to slap me with a big fat bill after the incident yesterday. I’m sure someone has to pay for the firemen showing up to lecture me.”
“I’ve known Sally for years. We go way back. She’s not going to scream at you. She just wants to make sure you’re supported. You’ll see. It’ll be fine.”
Before I could protest further, the secretary opened the door. “Mayor Winslow will see you now.”
I inhaled sharply, as though I were about to be wheeled into surgery. Or face a firing squad.
Mayor Sally Winslow had the kind of presence that could both intimidate and reassure at the same time.
She was short, round in the middle, and wore a bright cranberry blazer that screamed holiday spirit.
Her eyes were sharp. She was sizing me up and taking in every detail.
She had a look that said she would catch you if you tried to cut corners. Definitely had school principal vibes.
“Victoria! And this must be Joy.” She shook my hand warmly, then gestured to the two chairs across from her desk. “Please, sit. Don’t look so nervous, dear, I don’t bite.”
“I, uh,” I started, voice wobbling. “Good to know.”
Aunt Victoria smiled fondly at her old friend. “She’s still adjusting.”
“That’s perfectly natural,” the mayor said. “So. Let’s talk about this little cocoa situation.”
I shrank into my chair. My aunt could try and tell me it was no big deal, but it was. The fucking fire department showed up at the elementary school. That was the kind of thing that made the news in a small town.
“It wasn’t supposed to smoke,” I blurted. “Cocoa isn’t supposed to smoke, right? I’m pretty sure it’s not. But then it did, and then the alarm—”
“Joy.” My aunt put her hand on mine. “Breathe.”
I sucked in air.
Mayor Winslow chuckled. “It happens. No one was hurt, that’s what matters. But we do need to make sure there are no more hiccups like that one.”
“Understood,” I said quickly. “I’ll triple-check all cocoa-related operations from now on.”
“Good girl. Because we’ve got some big events coming up. The Christmas Tree Lighting. Santa’s Christmas Market. The Christmas Choir concert. Those have to go smoothly, or else we’ll have a very grumpy town council on our hands.”
I nodded vigorously, worried my head might fly off. She was naming off events that terrified me a little more with every passing second. I had no idea what any of it entailed. Why would these people entrust the cocoa girl with something so big and clearly very important?
Sally leaned back in her chair, folding her hands together.
“Here’s the thing, Joy. If this goes well, there could be a future here for you.
We’ve been talking about turning this role into a full-time position—someone to handle community events all year round.
And with your marketing background…” She tilted her head. “You’d be perfect.”
I blinked at her. My marketing degree had spent the last six months gathering dust while AI bots churned out ad campaigns that used to pay my rent. The idea that cocoa mishaps and poster contests might turn into actual employment? It hadn’t even crossed my mind.
“This is a trial run?” I asked.
“Exactly,” she said. “Think of it as a job interview spread over several weeks. Show us you can handle it, and there’ll be a desk waiting for you come January.
We make a lot of money during the Christmas season.
Hotels are filled. Restaurants are packed.
The little businesses all get a boost in sales.
We want to extend that throughout the year. ”
I tried to picture it: me, in an office here in Calton Hill, organizing Easter egg hunts and Fourth of July parades.
It was weirdly tempting. Not forever tempting but resume-building tempting.
Ideas were already bouncing around in my head for marketing strategies.
I would need to check the town’s website.
Did they have one? Something to ask. What kind of budget? Fundraising? Chamber of Commerce?
“To make sure you’ve got all the support you need, we’re pairing you up with a safety officer,” Sally said. “We have to make sure we’re in compliance or the insurance carriers will have an absolute conniption fit. If we’re going to be bringing in outsiders, we need to make sure we cover our butts.”
She looked at my aunt when she said it. Outsiders was code for anyone that wasn’t attached to the town by family.
If you weren’t born or raised in town, you were an outsider.
I was pretty sure the standard rule for no longer being considered an outsider was residence of at least fifteen years.
And even then it was tricky. You had to have some kind of connection to a family.
I was surprised I hadn’t lost my status as an insider since I had been gone for so long.
“I understand,” I said. “Is he an insurance man?”
Sally smiled. “No. He will be here to make sure the Yuletide Fest events follow proper procedures.”
Aunt Victoria’s lips twitched.
He.
My stomach sank. Oh no. Oh please, no.
“Who… exactly?” I asked weakly.
“One of our best,” the mayor said confidently. “There will need to be some schedule shuffling but we think this is for the best. If we plan to grow this event, we want to do it right. And avoiding problems is our top priority.”
My aunt was definitely smiling now.
“Oh,” I squeaked. “Great.”
“The safety officer will be overseeing all the safety aspects of the festival,” Sally said, her tone chipper, like she was handing me a gift instead of a death sentence.
I forced a tight smile, but inside, I was screaming.
“The officer will be reviewing all the event plans,” the mayor continued, oblivious to my internal meltdown. “And be on-site during the bigger events—the tree lighting, the market, the concert—just to make sure everything’s up to code.”
“Great,” I managed to choke out. “Sounds helpful. Thank you.”
After a few more pleasantries between my aunt and the mayor, we left the office.
I sagged against the hallway wall. “I’m doomed.”
“You’re not doomed,” Aunt Victoria said cheerfully. “You’ve got an actual shot at a job. That’s good news.”
I groaned, covering my face. “This is going to be a disaster.”
“Or this is going to be exactly what you need.”
Later that evening, after I had tried and failed to talk Aunt Victoria into letting me resign before I officially began, my phone buzzed with a text.
Katrina: Drinks tonight? Need to see your face.
I hadn’t seen my best friend since, well, since high school. We kept in touch, of course. Texts, memes, and the occasional phone call. But being back in town and actually seeing her again? My heart did a weird flutter.
Me: Name the place. I’m desperate for alcohol and human connection.
I had only been in the Rusty Stool once and was promptly kicked out with my shitty fake ID. Another con to small towns. Everyone knew everyone. When Katrina and I had tried to sneak in with our fake IDs, the bartender laughed at us. We went to school with her daughter.
Katrina was already at a booth when I arrived.
“Joy!” She jumped up, nearly knocking over her pint glass. “You’re here! In the flesh!”
I hugged her so tight I thought my ribs might crack. “Don’t ever let me leave you again.”
She laughed, pulling me down into the booth. “So. Tell me everything. Start with why my best friend is back in town with zero warning.”
I winced. “Advertising dried up. No work. No prospects. AI bots stole my livelihood. It was either live under the overpass or come back here like a giant loser.”
“You’re not a loser.” She flagged the bartender. “Two tequila sunrises, please. Extra cherries.”
I slumped. “I lost my job. I lost my apartment. I lost my dignity somewhere between crying in the subway and giving away every bit of furniture I owned.”
Katrina reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “You didn’t lose me.”
“Thanks. Sorry I didn’t tell you I was coming back. I thought I was going to sneak into town and no one would know.”
She snorted. “You’ve been away for too long if you thought that was an option.”
“I know.”
“So what’s the plan?” she asked as the drinks arrived. “Are you sticking around, or is this just a pit stop before you run back to the city?”
I stirred my straw through the orange-red swirls of my drink. “I don’t know. My aunt has me helping out with the Yuletide Festival. Mayor Winslow basically told me it’s a job interview. If I pull it off, I could end up coordinating all of the town’s events. Full-time.”
Her eyes widened. “That’s amazing!”
“It’s… something. I’m not sure it’s my dream. But maybe it could be a step. Work here for a few years, build up experience, see where life takes me after.”
Katrina raised her glass. “To baby steps. And to the fact that you’re home, even if just for now.”
We clinked glasses. At least I had one friend. Too bad said friend was the twin of the guy that was determined to be a pain in my ass.