Chapter 7 #2
Probably not. So why should I try to pretend anything?
Part of me wants to confront them all, but there’s no possible outcome that’s positive if I do that. Instead, I pull out my phone, snap a photo of the cookie plate and smile at Lydia. “I’ll post this on our socials. See if we can nab you a few more customers.”
“Thanks, Jenna,” she says, giving me a sympathetic smile.
She overheard the whole conversation too, of course.
“For what it’s worth, I appreciate shows who vet the vendors thoroughly.
This has always been a handmade market.” She holds up her hands, palms out.
“Now, I haven’t been here since the beginning like a few of the vendors, but I’ve had a booth here for the last five years.
The goal from the start was handmade products, though.
Even with that stated on the application form, there’s been an increase in resellers who buy pieces for cheap online and sell them at a markup, not to mention the sublimation and sticker places that have started using AI generated images.
” She shakes her head. “Meanwhile, Joe and Barbara hand paint all their ornaments. I do this year round, and I much prefer the shows where they do their best to avoid the resellers and AI slop sellers. If that means I have to fill out a longer application, I can handle that.”
“Thank you.” My voice trembles, and I clear my throat, doing my best to firm it up. “I appreciate your feedback. I’ll be sure to stop back by before I leave for the day.” I hold up my phone. “And I’ll post this today too.”
I don’t spare a glance in the direction of the other three women, though I’m sure they overheard at least part of my conversation with Lydia. I have no idea if they feel any remorse for being catty within earshot or if they think it’s well deserved. And honestly? I don’t really care.
It’s just another reminder that I’m not one of their own.
I doubt they’d react nearly as badly if Sarah or Brit tried to make changes—and in fact, several of the changes that I managed to make for this year were because those two loved the ideas as soon as I mentioned them.
The photo setups exist almost solely because both those women saw the potential in the idea.
And I know at least Mara Daniels likes them, so maybe she’ll get those two old women to hop on board too, or at least stop complaining about them in public.
I head for the back hallway, walking quickly and efficiently like I have something important to do in my office. But once I get there, I collapse into the chair, face in my hands, and let out the tears that have been building since last night.
Sure, Sarah and Brit liked my photo and hashtag ideas. But they can’t be bothered to tell me we aren’t meeting at the Red Arrow. And how long is that moratorium? Until after Christmas? New Year’s? Longer?
That was my only real opportunity for consistent socializing here. Sure, plenty of people are polite to me. To my face, at least. Hell, Karen and Rebecca have always been nice to my face, too, those two-faced biddies.
They might be vocal in their disapproval, but that doesn’t mean my ideas are bad.
Lydia thinks more stringent vendor requirements are good.
It’s in keeping with the founding ethos of the event.
It’s not like the Daniels could’ve known twenty-five years ago that people reselling cheap junk would end up being ubiquitous, turning artisan’s markets into flea markets across the country.
ChristmasFest, as it was explained to me, was founded with the specific goal of giving the town a greater tourism draw in the off season, keeping the town’s economy flowing for longer, creating a sense of community spirit and pride that makes people want to live here—and those who grew up here to stay instead of leaving for bigger cities—and supporting local businesses and artists, with emphasis given for people from Arcadian Falls and the immediate surrounding area, filling booths with those people first, then from the rest of the state, then the surrounding states.
Most of the vendors were chosen already by the time I took over.
Cynthia and I reviewed a few applications together, which is when I realized it would be better if we had a few more requirements of our application process.
It would make it easier to determine quickly who fits the biggest criteria and who doesn’t, thereby saving time every year.
It’s not like we don’t get plenty of applications to fill double the number of booths we have, but even if we didn’t, wouldn’t a smaller number of vendors who fit the mission of the event be preferable to more vendors than we need who don’t?
I try to put the conversation out of my mind, but it niggles at me all day. It’s just one more reminder that no matter how hard I work, I’ll never make some people happy. And with those women? I could probably live here for ten years, and they’d still see me as an outsider.
And even though I know it shouldn’t bother me as much as it does, I just wish …
I just wish I belonged somewhere.