Tanya Michaels - Mistletoe Hero

“Thanks,” Kasey said as she handed over a plastic bag and some neon poster board.

“No problem,” Arianne said. She smiled at the older woman, but then stiffened as she saw who was entering the cafeteria behind them.

The Hunaker sisters.

Too bad flasks would be considered inappropriate at a PTA-related meeting because Arianne thought that a little hard liquor might take the edge off dealing with Tara and Cici. Both women were in their forties, well preserved through expensive cosmetics and a few surgical weekend trips to Atlanta. They had matching smiles that made Arianne think of great white sharks with collagen injections. Neither Hunaker sister actually had a child currently enrolled in Whiteberry, but since the same could be said of several volunteers-Ari and Gabe included-that didn’t give the committee license to boot the siblings.

Arianne increased her stride, hoping not to get sucked into small talk with Cici and Tara, but even with the additional distance, she caught Gabe’s name, followed by a flurry of hectic whispering.

Kasey and Arianne sat on the empty bench across from the men and were joined by Rachel and her now-content daughter. Then Quinn stood to welcome everyone and make it clear how much the school appreciated their support.

“The fall festival is a long-standing tradition, and I know that with your help, we can make this year’s the best yet! Now I’m going to turn things over to my cochair Lilah Waide…”

Lilah outlined the subcommittees and specific positions that needed to be filled. When she mentioned the cakewalk and annual bake-off, though, a hand shot up from Arianne’s table.

“Not to be a bother, but could I interrupt for just a sec?” Dele asked sweetly. “I revere our town traditions-I’ve lived in Mistletoe more than fifty years-but there’s no reason we can’t improve on them, right? Reach for new heights?”

Lilah’s smile flickered nervously, but she nodded. “Change can keep things fresh.”

“What if instead of a whole bunch of people individually baking cakes, we banded together? I saw this news piece on a middle school attempting to make the world’s largest cupcake and there was mention of a Canadian slab of fudge that was over two tons. Wouldn’t it be neat if Mistletoe could set one of those records for the biggest cake?”

Two tons of fudge? Just how much cake was Dele proposing? The silence in the cafeteria got very loud, emphasized by a single derisive titter in the back. One of the Hunakers, no doubt.

“Well,” Lilah began. “That certainly is an ambitious idea! But I doubt we could get all the logistics squared away in only two weeks. Would you mind if I write this in our notes as something to discuss for future years?”

Dele beamed. “I think that’d be just fine, Lilah. Thank you.”

It wasn’t until Quinn began differentiating between the booths that they hoped would break even financially, those there for fun despite not being moneymakers, versus the ones they actually expected to profit on that Dele’s hand shot back up again.

“I had a fundraiser idea,” Dele said proudly. “A couple of years ago, during the July Fourth celebration, officials like the mayor and principal agreed to sit in a dunk tank. Citizens lined up to pay for a chance to soak them!”

Lilah and Quinn exchanged glances. As Dele’s ideas went, this one was completely sane.

“Sounds terrific,” Lilah said, “with the possible exception of the weather. I’m not sure it would be warm enough-”

“Oh, I don’t think we should dunk them!” Dele interjected. “I think we should make them walk the plank. As part of our costume competition, we already have a best pirate category, so it just makes sense! Think about our students in their best buccaneer garb, paying for a chance to march their favorite-or least favorite-teachers off a plank at swordpoint.”

“I’m sorry, did you say off a plank?” Cici Hunaker echoed incredulously.

Dele spun around, nodding eagerly over her shoulder. “Sounds like fun, dontcha think?”

“And this would be the plank of the handy pirate ship we just happen to have sitting in town square?” Cici rejoined.

Tara snickered, and Dele’s face fell. Looking at the older woman’s crushed expression, Arianne’s loathing of the Hunakers soared to new heights.

Even Quinn was openly glaring at the two women. “I should remind everyone that we’re all working toward the same goal and the first rule of brainstorming is that you don’t criticize ideas as they’re flowing.”

“Even the ridiculous ones?” Tara muttered.

“Actually-” Gabe turned in his seat, ostensibly addressing Dele, although his voice carried throughout the room “-I like your idea, Mrs. Momsen.”

“You do?”

He reached out to awkwardly pat the woman’s hunched shoulder. “Absolutely. There are plenty of people in this town I wouldn’t mind sending off the plank.”

Across the table from him, Arianne was dimly aware of muffled laughs and even one or two gasps, but none of those reactions truly registered with her. She was fixated on Gabe’s profile as he exchanged hesitant smiles with Dele.

Heaven help me, he has dimples.

Quinn and Lilah called the meeting to a close just in time-over the past hour and a half, the cheerfully decorated cafeteria walls had started closing in on Gabe. I need to get out of here. He was preoccupied enough with his growing unease that he nodded at something Patrick said without really hearing it.

“Great!” The other man clapped him congenially on the shoulder. “You just let me know what night works best for you.”

Gabe paused, not sure what he’d just agreed to, but telling himself that, whatever it was, it couldn’t be any stranger than telling Adele Momsen he’d build her a pirate ship. Rather, a partial facade of a ship. Kasey, from the family-owned Kerrigan Farms, had said there was a company that rented “bouncies” and ball pits-popular attractions for kids who wanted to jump inside inflatable structures or play amidst hundreds of spongy balls. She thought she remembered something from their catalog where participants could literally dive into an open pit. Assuming her phone call to them tomorrow was productive, Gabe would start work on a raised platform that would emulate the deck of a ship, complete with a plank.

By Gabe’s early teens, he’d been antsy, wanting to leave Mistletoe and the proximity of an unloving father who made him feel vaguely guilty for his very existence. Looking ahead to the financial independence he’d need to escape, Gabe had started mowing lawns and helping elderly neighbors-including Adele Momsen’s mother-clean out their rain gutters. He’d kept an organized spiral notebook of his clients and what they’d paid him. To this day, he kept an organized to-do list and studied it each morning over coffee.

A couple of weeks ago, it had been a simple, even predictable, compilation: pick up materials at Waide Supply, meet with Linda Berdino about her yard, tell the Winchesters that they really did need to hire a certified plumber.

And then Arianne Waide had happened.

Gabe’s list had morphed radically. One, find new home. Two, build pirate ship .

Patrick Flannery shrugged into his jacket. “So I’ll catch you later for that pool game.”

Three, make new friend. Apparently. “Sure,” Gabe said. At least now he knew what he’d agreed to.

With a nod and parting smile for Mrs. Momsen, he made a beeline for the exit and the promise of fresh air. He was almost there when Tara Hunaker sidled into his peripheral vision.

“Gabriel?” Her low, smoky voice might have been more seductive if it weren’t so affected. And if he didn’t know her better.