Page 6 of Chloe

I open my mouth to argue further, but Oliver holds up a hand. “I get it. You’re trying to help. But Hanks’ isn’t interested in being a guinea pig for your tech company. Now, if you want to do some actual shopping, I’d be happy to point you in the right direction.”

The dismissal in his words is clear, and I feel my cheeks burn with a mixture of embarrassment and anger. How dare he dismiss me so easily? Doesn’t he know who I am?

But before I can formulate a suitably cutting response, the bell above the door chimes again. A group of elderly women enter, calling out greetings to Oliver by name. In an instant, his attention is diverted, his face softening as he welcomes the newcomers.

I stand there for a moment, feeling strangely out of place in my designer outfit amidst the homey charm of the store. Oliver’s words echo in my mind, challenging everything I’ve built my life and career around.

With a huff of frustration, I turn on my heel and march out of the store, the cheerful jingle of the bell seeming to mock me as I go. The cold air hits me like a slap as I step outside, and I welcome it, using the sting to push away the unsettling feelings Oliver’s rejection has stirred up.

I make my way back to the town square, my mind churning. How can anyone choose to stay stuck in the past like that? Doesn’t Oliver see that he’s dooming his business to failure by clinging to outdated methods?

As I pass the courthouse, I notice a flyer posted on the community bulletin board. “Benton Falls High School Jazz Band Holiday Concert - Tonight at 7:30 PM.” it proclaims in cheery red and green letters.

I’m about to walk past when I hear a familiar voice behind me. “Oh, Chloe. Are you thinking of going to the concert?”

I turn to find Rebecca, the neighbor from yesterday, beaming at me. Her golden hair is tucked under a fuzzy white hat, and her cheeks are pink from the cold. She looks like she’s stepped right out of a Christmas card, all youthful beauty and holiday cheer.

“I... no, I was just reading the flyer,” I stammer, caught off guard.

Rebecca’s smile doesn’t dim. “Oh, come on. I hear the jazz band is fantastic, and it’s such a wonderful way to get into the holiday spirit. Plus, I hear Oliver Hanks will be there—he always brings hot chocolate for everyone.”

At the mention of Oliver’s name, I feel a renewed surge of irritation. “I’m afraid I have too much work to do,” I say stiffly. “Enjoy the concert.”

I start to walk away, but Rebecca’s next words stop me in my tracks. “You know, sometimes the best way to solve a problem is to step away from it for a while. Music has a way of clearing the mind.”

I turn back, startled by her insight. How does she know I’m grappling with a problem? I study her face, searching for any sign of insincerity or hidden motives. Her smile is warm and inviting, but there’s something in her eyes - a flicker of... what? Judgment? Pity? I can’t quite place it, but it leaves me feeling unsettled.

“I’ll... think about it,” I say noncommittally.

Rebecca’s smile widens. “I hope to see you there, Chloe. It would be nice to get to know you better.”

As she walks away, I can’t shake the feeling that despite her friendly words, Rebecca doesn’t really like me. It’s a ridiculous thought - we’ve barely interacted. But there’s something about her perfect demeanor, her effortless charm, that makes me feel like I’m being measured and found wanting.

I shake my head, trying to clear these paranoid thoughts. I don’t need the approval of some small-town girl, no matter how pretty or popular she might be.

Still, as I make my way back to the house, Rebecca’s words about the concert linger in my mind. The rational part of my brain is screaming at me to go back to the house, to bury myself in work—if I can find any—and forget this strange, frustrating day. But a smaller, quieter part—a part I thought I’d silenced long ago—whispers that maybe, just maybe, a change of scenery might help.

With a sigh of resignation, I check my watch. 6:30 PM. I have just enough time to go back to the house and change before the concert.

An hour later, I slip into the back row of the high school auditorium, the sounds of students tuning their instruments filling the air. The space is packed, the excited chatter of parents and community members creating a buzz of anticipation.

I spot Oliver near the front, distributing cups of steaming hot chocolate. He moves with purpose, his broad shoulders easily parting the crowd as he makes his way through the room. Our eyes meet for a brief moment, and I see a flicker of surprise cross his face before he gives me a curt nod and turns back to his task.

As the lights dim and the first notes of “Jingle Bell Rock” fill the air, I feel some of the tension leave my shoulders. The music is surprisingly good, the young musicians playing with a joy and enthusiasm that’s infectious.

I find my foot tapping along to “Winter Wonderland,” and by the time they launch into a jazzy rendition of “Silent Night,” I’m actually... enjoying myself. The melodies wash over me, pushing away thoughts of apps and market shares and profit margins.

As the last notes of “We Wish You A Merry Christmas” fade away, I join in the applause, surprised by my enthusiasm. The students on stage beam with pride, and I feel an unexpected lump in my throat as I watch their parents rush forward to congratulate them.

As the crowd disperses, I make my way towards the exit, my mind whirling with new thoughts and possibilities. I’m so lost in my musings that I nearly collide with someone in the doorway.

“Whoa there.” A familiar deep voice says, a firm hand steadying me. I look up to find Oliver looking down at me, his expression a mix of surprise and amusement. “Careful, Ms. Anderson. Wouldn’t want you taking a spill.”

“I... thank you,” I mumble, flustered by his proximity and the lingering effect of the music. “It was a good concert.”

Oliver’s eyebrows raise slightly. “High praise from the big city CEO. Didn’t think this kind of thing would be your speed.”

There’s a challenge in his voice that sets my nerves on edge, and I find myself lifting my chin defiantly. “I’m full of surprises, Mr. Hanks. You shouldn’t make assumptions about people based on first impressions.”

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