Page 9 of The Mistletoe Makeover

For a few minutes, I push off Allan’s words:consider it.

“Please, Jace.”

I sigh.“I’ll go... so I can turn them down the right way.”

I check my watch, wondering if I can still make the meeting.

As much as I don’t want to attend, there’s one small part of me that needs satisfying.

I want to seeherface when she realizes who I am.

* * *

As I head into Maplewood, a light dusting of snow powders the ground around the winding road. My cabin is tucked away on the outskirts of town in the Green Mountains, heavy with the scent of pine and brilliant views of the heavily wooded valley below. In the fall, the view is exceptional, trees lit with blood-red, orange, and goldenrod hues. But now that the leaves have fallen, only barren trees remain. Kind of like my career.

As I take the final curve into Maplewood, a whiff of fresh bread from the bakery hits me. Except for the new sign on the front of the bakery, not much else has changed since I left on tour. The empty stores on Main Street look like hollowed-out shells, their run-down facades a stark reminder that this town needs new life. No amount of lights or decorations can hide how this town is falling apart. It’s definitely not the image I want for my struggling career.

When I step outside, the sharp wind makes my breath rise like vapor clouds. Wanda’s Diner is next to the bank building where we are meeting, and I have just enough time to grab a coffee beforehand.

The diner smells like a mix of bacon grease and fresh coffee, a welcoming scent after a long day.

“Look who’s back,” Wanda says with a wink. “You want the usual?”

She knows my regular order of bacon and eggs, over easy, with a side of homemade strawberry jelly on wheat toast, to go.

“Just coffee,” I tell her. “Headed to a meeting next door.”

Wanda’s the type of woman who never asks me personal questions. She’s grown old right along with the building. She slides the plain white paper cup across the counter. “Anything else?”

I shake my head and hand her a five even though the coffee is only half that. “Keep the change.”

Wanda always treats me like everyone else she serves, even from the first day I walked in.

“You have a good day, Mr. Knight,” she says with a nod.

“Same to you.”

I wrap my hands around the cup as I brave the short trek to the conference room next door, hoping I don’t get stopped. To my relief, no one pays any attention to me. It’s the best part of living in Maplewood. No star treatment here. It’s like they understand my need for privacy and offer it, no questions asked.

Which is why it’s going to be hard to turn down their request today. The people here deserve a concert, even if I want to hide from the spotlight.

A woman with a warm smile and teal glasses greets me at the door. “Mr. Knight! How lovely to meet you. My name is Cora.” My manager explained that the pushy young woman I met at the airport is Cora’s daughter. I glance around and don’t see her yet. Despite getting off on the wrong foot, it’s too bad Mia MacPherson came all this way for nothing.

Behind Cora, eight unfamiliar faces nudge each other and smile. They all wear name tags and matching T-shirts, all emblazoned with my picture. It’s supposed to be a fun surprise, but it’s disturbing to see my huge face plastered across their chests.

“We had these made for you,” Cora says, pointing at the shirts.

“Wow,” I stammer, because it’s all I can say.

Then she hands me a shirt. “A gift for you.”

I can’t bear to tell her that I’d never wear this T-shirt. I give her a smile and mumble, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“I take it your trip home was non-eventful?” she asks.

“Almost didn’t make my layover in Charlotte,” I say. “But since I’m here, we can begin.”

If there’s one thing I hate, it’s starting late. Punctuality matters in the music business. Proving that I’m a hard worker and not just in it for the money—I pride myself on these qualities.

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