Page 2 of The Mistletoe Makeover

“Mmm. Nothing says Christmas like a green smoothie,” I say as Jaz lifts an eyebrow.

“Speaking of Christmas,” Mom says. “We’re knee-deep in planning mode for the festival.”

“Did you already put out the elves? How about Ugly Santa?”

“Believe it or not, we’re not using the elves this year.”

Judging by the way she says it, this is big news. “I bet that rocked the mistletoe committee.”

She sighs. “Well, it’s necessary for our survival. If we don’t get some new ideas and more money, the festival won’t continue after this year.”

She waits for a reaction from me, but I can already smell the bait. For years, I’ve stayed as far away from Maplewood at Christmas as I could. Too many bad memories knotted up like a tangled garland.

“I’ve told the committee we need to do something drastic,” she adds. “We need new decorations, new marketing, and a whole new look. The town is dying, and we need to save it.”

I don’t have the guts to dash Mom’s dreams and tell her they can’t pull this off. “It would be difficult to make over the festival without major money and community support.”

“Exactly,” she says. “We need somethingbig. Something that will attract tourists to our little town the week before Christmas.”

“Like the world’s largest mistletoe?” I joke, remembering the time my mother had the fake mistletoe installed in the town square so that Maplewood would makeGuinness World Records. The novelty worked until a massive snowstorm hit Vermont and took out the gigantic mistletoe before they received the honor.

Mom pauses. “What do you think about bringing in a big name for a Christmas concert?”

“In Maplewood?” I laugh. Anybody with a name would scoff at performing in such a dinky place, but I don’t want to hurt Mom’s feelings.

“Obviously, I would have to find therightperson,” she says, noticing my hesitation. “Someone who cares about the town. Ideally, someone who lives here.”

I shake my head. “Nobody famous lives in Maplewood.”

“Untilnow.”

I’m not exactly current on Maplewood news, but I don’t remember anyone moving to my hometown.

“Jace Knight,” she says proudly.

I frown. “Who?”

She lets out a sigh. “Only the biggest country rock star in America right now. He wanted a log cabin in the Green Mountains and bought a dozen acres of land on the outskirts of town. I hear it’s gorgeous.”

I’m dumbfounded how my mom knows the latest celebrity gossip before me.

In the background, Mom’s spoon clangs against a cup. “I floated the concert idea to the committee as a solution to revitalize the town. Everyone agreed that it’s the perfect plan.”

“But has he agreed?” I ask. It’s not like the town has money to wave in his face.

“Not exactly,” she says with some hesitation. “Only because I haven’t asked him directly.”

“What do you mean...you?”

“Well,” she says, her voice pitching higher. “I was nominated to contact his manager, since I agreed to head up the committee this year.”

I nearly drop the Christmas ribbon I’m holding. “Mom, no.”

Mom can barely make ends meet working at the local health food shop. If it wasn’t for my financial support, she’d have to sell her home. She doesn’t have time to be the festival chairwoman.

“Honey, I’m in a different stage of life,” Mom adds defensively. “The twins are adults now. And I can still work at the store and act as chairwoman of the committee. But I can’t sit here and let the festival die.”

“What about Doreen?” She’s been the chairwoman ever since I can remember.

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