Chapter 3
Chapter Three
One of the things that made Christmasville so cozy was that everything downtown was so walkable.
Main Street was the heart of town. A few side roads branched off to the west. On the east, behind the Main Street buildings, was the creek path, a winding paved trail that followed adjacent to a beautiful brook, which ended at the ice skating pond.
To get to work from the inn, I only had to stroll down one side street, take a right onto Main, and the town hall was a block away.
The sky was a deep, cloudless blue. The cold was jarring enough to push out any thoughts of the man in the bathtub, yet the sun still warmed my face.
Back in the city, patches of black ice, random pieces of trash, and morning drunks had dotted my commute.
But here, I only had to dodge happy couples and smiling faces on my way to work.
Seeing Main Street in the daylight brought back a rush of memories. The cute stores and scrumptious restaurants. The tinny Christmas music and over-the-top decor inside each building. I loved it then, and I loved it still.
I’d looked forward to our trips to Christmasville at every age.
When I was little and believed Santa was real, I thought it was the actual North Pole.
But even as I got older, it was still a fun place to be.
I remembered snowball fights with Shawn, racing down the sledding hills, skating on the pond, and watching the Christmas parade.
There was always something fun to do. And sometimes I really needed it.
Especially in eighth grade, a particularly hard year because Clara MacDonald decided to hate me for fun, and every other kid in school fell in line out of fear that they’d be next.
The bullying was relentless, and I spent much of my time crying, holed up in my room, and scared to go to school.
Though my parents suspected something was going on, I never told them because I worried they’d get involved and make things worse.
Then we came to Christmasville over winter break.
Those few days with my family reminded me that happiness still existed for me somewhere.
Despite everything going on back at school, I could have fun and feel the warmth of Christmasville’s pure goodness.
Over mugs of hot cocoa at a cookie decorating class, I even confided in my brother about my troubles with Clara.
And, strangely enough, when we returned to town, she stopped her campaign of hatred.
My brother never said anything, but I’d guessed he’d had a stern talk with her older brother who was in Shawn’s grade.
Either that, or it was a Christmasville miracle.
Christmasville helped me heal then, and I was hoping it would help me heal now.
Memories like those always kept my love for the town in my heart. I’d missed it and still felt drawn to it, even as an adult. The nostalgia always tugged at me, especially during the holidays.
I’d actually asked Trent to go to Christmasville with me last year, thinking it would be romantic, and he’d laughed in my face.
Not out of cruelty. He truly thought I was joking.
So we went to Vegas—his choice. I never could have predicted that a year later, I’d be living in Christmasville. My childhood dream come true.
My footsteps slowed as I approached the town hall.
It was a beautiful old brick building with a clock tower and a wreath on every window.
I pulled open the heavy front door and walked inside on creaky hardwood floors.
Winter sunshine poured through the windows, brightening the lobby and casting a glow on the tall Christmas tree that dominated the center of the room.
Two older women were talking animatedly by the front desk.
One had short, tight corkscrew curls and wore casual pants and a red and white striped sweater that made her look like a candy cane.
The other wore a perfectly tailored forest-green suit.
Her mid-length bob with a tasteful amount of gray mixed in with caramel highlights was perfectly coiffed.
At my arrival, they cut off their conversation.
The woman in the suit smiled widely. “And there she is! Kelsey, right?”
“That’s me!” I said, hoping to hit the right note somewhere between gracious and enthusiastic.
She stepped toward me, tall and stately, and reached a hand out.
“I’m Mayor Carol. Like Christmas carol. It would probably be more professional for me to go by my last name, but Mayor Meyer doesn’t have that Christmas flair.
You’ve probably noticed a lot of us townies have holiday-themed first names, and we’re proud to show them off. ”
“I have noticed the custom, yes,” I said, giving her well-manicured hand a strong shake.
The human candy cane stepped forward. “I’m the assistant here at the town hall. My name’s Mary.”
My eyebrows rose. “Wow, that name’s a bit on the nose, eh?”
She frowned. “Not on purpose. I wasn’t born here.”
“Oh …”
Carol cleared her throat. “Let me show you to your office.”
“Thank you.” I turned to Mary. “Nice to meet you.”
She didn’t respond.
“Don’t worry about her,” Carol whispered as we walked down the main hall. “She’s a bit of a curmudgeon. Which isn’t great in a town like this, and I remind her of that every year during her performance review.”
We passed offices for the Department of Public Works, the tax collector, and the mayor. A small, dark room was next.
“This is you,” Carol said, flipping the switch. “It’s small, but there’s a little window. And you’re free to dress it up with decorations, of course.”
It was actually a step up from the cubicle I had at my last job. The ad agency where I worked had us sitting row after row like a rat’s maze with barely any privacy. Having an office all to myself, no matter how small, seemed like a luxury.
Carol leaned over the desk and tapped her fingernails on a thick folder. “In here, you’ll find a whole lot of HR paperwork, unfortunately, that needs to be filled out ASAP.”
“Of course,” I said, setting my messenger bag on the floor.
“I also included all the info you’ll need to access each of our social media accounts. You can get started right away. You don’t need to get my preapproval or anything before posting. I’ve been running the accounts myself, and I’m not a professional.”
That explained the amateur vibe. I almost couldn’t wait to get started. This town was a smorgasbord of great photo opportunities.
Carol traced her finger along the top of a filing cabinet and inspected it for dust. “I expect one to two posts per day on Facebook and Instagram. We haven’t yet expanded to other platforms, but I’m open to it.
Keep our event calendar up to date on the website and add one long-form blog post per week.
You’ll also have to manage the occasional live stream when we have an event.
And you’re responsible for moderating comments and replying to any questions or concerns beneath our posts.
I’d also like to see a proposal on how you’ll increase our follower count. ”
“I’ll have that on your desk tomorrow,” I said.
“Wonderful.” She turned to leave, then paused in the doorway. “What’s your opinion of so-called … influencers?”
I felt like a boulder had lodged in my throat. I had a very strong opinion of one in particular, but I held nothing against the vocation as a whole.
Carol continued, “I only ask because I don’t know if they’re worth the money. What are your thoughts?”
I coughed into my hand. “Influencer marketing is definitely growing, especially in the travel niche. But you have to be careful who you choose because they will be speaking for your brand.”
She nodded thoughtfully. “I contracted with one, mainly because the price was right. Just the free trip and a small stipend. We’ll see how this one goes and take it from there.”
“Sounds like a smart plan,” I said. There were actually influencers that I thought would be a great match for Christmasville. Not the usual young, amazing, perfect body travel ones. But a few from the family lifestyle mommy blogger world. But that would be for another day.
A gruff voice called out from the hall. “Mayor, could I have a word?”
Carol’s expression morphed into something like worry, but she plastered on a fake smile for me. “I have to go, but I’ll check in with you later. Welcome to Christmasville. I think you’re going to love it here.”
I opened my folder of HR paperwork, but curiosity tugged at me. It wouldn’t hurt to take a peek. I rose from my seat and edged toward the open office door. Trying to be as inconspicuous as I could, I poked my head just a bit into the hallway.
Mayor Carol and Sheriff Kris stood close together, murmuring in hushed voices. Neither one of them looked happy. In fact, Carol looked outright concerned.
A few hours later, Carol strolled into my office. “Hungry for lunch?”
I glanced at the clock on the wall. Usually by now my stomach would be making velociraptor noises, but I hadn’t even noticed the time. I’d already finished the HR paperwork, gained access to each of the accounts, and began brainstorming my first post for today. It was a good time for a break.
“Absolutely!” I said, rising from my seat. “What did you have in mind?”
“My favorite. Holly’s Bakery. Most people go for breakfast, but I’m obsessed with her sandwiches and soups at lunchtime.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “Mary won’t be joining. I brought her once and all she did was complain. Plus, she brown bags it every day.”
“Well, it sounds amazing to me.” I grabbed my purse. “I really want to get to know all the local establishments.”
Carol seemed happy with this. “Holly’s would be a great place to feature, if you’re looking for somewhere to start.”
Like everything else in town, it wasn’t too far of a walk. Carol walked beside me, her gloved hands tucked into her coat pockets. I couldn’t help but replay the way she’d looked while speaking with the sheriff—tense and worried.