Tanya Michaels - Mistletoe Hero

“Not yet.” She bit her lip, looking out the window. “But he will.”

The next committee meeting for the festival was Tuesday night at town hall and would precede the monthly open town meeting that many of the volunteers were planning to attend anyway. When Arianne had called Gabe yesterday to check on how he was feeling, he’d told her that he probably wouldn’t make it.

“I don’t need to be there for the discussion,” he’d said. “I’m just the hired muscle.”

“Yes,” she’d agreed solemnly. “We only want you for your pirate ship. And your booty.”

He didn’t immediately respond, but she heard the laugh he tried to smother. Then he explained that, with Nick’s and Jack’s help, actual construction of the pieces was done, but Gabe thought his time was better spent sanding and painting than sitting in the town hall.

Which suited her nefarious purposes just fine, she realized now as the mayor called the town meeting to order. An idea was beginning to take shape in her mind. The agenda was posted on the whiteboard behind the mayor’s head and included some of their town’s annual traditions, like the Winter Wonderland ball. And Mistletoe’s Man of the Year, someone they voted for in early November and who was given the honor of leading the Thanksgiving parade.

With half an ear, Arianne listened to Pat Donavan talk about suggested changes to how the town’s intramural sports were run, followed by Stanley Dean outlining the budget for a town beautification project and Belle Fulton’s report from the chamber of commerce. Finally they moved to the next to last item: Mistletoe Man of the Year. Anticipation had Arianne fidgeting in her seat so much that Quinn shot her a quizzical look.

“As you all know, we took preliminary nominations for the Man of the Year at last month’s meetings. Those included our new high school coach Dylan Echols-”

This elicited a loud, admiring whistle from Chloe Malcolm, Dylan’s fiancée, and friendly laughter from everyone seated around her.

The mayor raised a brow. “May I continue? We also have local fireman Nick Zeth, two-time former Man of the Year, David Waide, and Petey Gruebner, nominated again this year by Petey Gruebner,” the mayor concluded with an aggrieved sigh.

At this, Petey nudged his wife, who’d been busily knitting and not paying much attention to the proceedings. She clapped politely before returning to what looked like a scarf big enough to keep a giraffe’s neck warm.

“At this time,” the mayor said, “I’ll open the floor for any final nominations to consider before we vote at the November meeting in a few weeks.”

Arianne shot to her feet. Next to her Quinn groaned, “She isn’t.”

Lilah laughed in the row behind them. “She is! ”

“Mr. Mayor, I nominate Gabriel Sloan.”

“Is that your idea of a joke, Ms. Waide?” An outraged masculine voice boomed from the back of the room.

Dreading what she was about to see, Arianne turned. Oh, God, she hadn’t even considered this possibility when she’d devised her spontaneous plan thirty minutes earlier. Because she’d been here so early, she was seated close to the front and had been chatting with other people on the festival committee right up until the time the mayor had called order. Arianne hadn’t seen Earline and Robert Ortz, Shay Templeton’s parents, come in and take seats near the door.

Robert was on his feet, his face nearly purple beneath his snow-white hair. His wife, still seated, was squeezing his hand.

Whatever Arianne thought privately about Shay and the mistakes she’d made, she wouldn’t wish losing a child on any parent. She tried to sound respectful even as she said firmly, “No, sir, I was serious.”

“That boy was the reason my baby girl was killed!”

The “boy” had been a victim, too, albeit in a less dramatic and permanent way than Shay, and was now a man. “With all due apologies for your loss, that was fourteen years ago, and Gabe wasn’t even in the house when it happened. None of us really knows what happened. How long should he be punished for a perceived crime?”

People were squirming and whispering, shooting sympathetic glances at the Ortz family, collectively uncomfortable with the direction the meeting had taken. Cici Hunaker was openly smirking, one primly dressed woman in the front row looked ready to hyperventilate. Hell . This hadn’t been what Arianne had in mind at all. She’d wanted to talk about all the work Gabe had done for the town over the years; sure, a lot of it was his paid occupation, but that wasn’t so very different from Nick Zeth, who was a salaried fireman. In the past five years Gabe had helped repair houses after some spring tornadoes had blown through, working twelve-hour days to help people get their lives back together as quickly as possible. He’d patched and improved and converted homes, all the while never truly seeing this town as his home.

He was good to the town’s senior citizens, donated his time on behalf of the elementary children in this town, had even risked the high-stress potential of teaching a teen to drive. Arianne had wanted to refocus everyone on those qualities, not dredge up the ancient past. But she found herself tongue-tied in the glare of Robert Ortz, not wanting to say anything that sounded as if she were dismissing his loss.

The mayor banged his gavel on the podium. “Robert, why don’t you take your seat?” he asked gently. “Can we get you anything? A glass of water? Earline? Now, Ms. Waide, continue with your nomination, but keep it short. We, er, have other business to discuss.”

The only thing left on the agenda was the Winter Wonderland, annually held at the Mistletoe Inn, and Arianne knew that wasn’t the real reason the mayor wanted her to wrap up with haste.

She took a deep breath and tried again. “I don’t deny that Gabe may have made some mistakes in his past. I wager everyone in this room has made mistakes. But he’s part of Mistletoe, quietly helping us when we need him.”

“Hear, hear!” Fawne Harris said.

Arianne darted her a grateful glance. “I think the other nominees are wonderful men, but come on, my brother doesn’t need the honor a third time. Do we really want to feed his ego?”

“Hey!” David called out with mock indignation.

A few people chuckled, helping dispel the earlier tension. Next to him, Rachel patted his knee and whispered loudly, “It’s okay, honey, I still appreciate you.”

Feeling braver now, Arianne continued her appeal. “And Dylan’s a great guy-we’re lucky that he decided to move back to town last spring-but Gabe’s been here year after year to help us rebuild after storms. I heard a rumor that he wouldn’t take any money from the church after he was hired to fix the leak in the sanctuary wall.” If the townspeople were allowed to pass along the sordid Tara-generated gossip, why not the redeeming stuff, too? Reverend Billings, seated on the other side of the main aisle, nodded.

“I’m sure most of you have heard about the walk-the-plank attraction he’s been building as a special fundraiser for the festival. And ask Mindy Nelson’s son if he would have his driver’s license without Gabe’s help,” Arianne added.

“I second the nomination,” Dele Momsen said. She shot a compassionate look at the Ortzs, but her voice didn’t waver when she lent her support.

“All right then,” the mayor said. “Thank you, ladies, and thank you, Arianne, for making your case. His name has been officially entered for the vote. Any other nominations?”

When no one immediately said anything, the mayor moved rather desperately to the next topic.

Leaning so close their heads almost touched, Quinn whispered, “And what did Gabe have to say about this when you dutifully talked it over with him first?”