Page 6 of Booked for the Holidays
“Read it and find out.”
I look down at the document, bold words catching my attention. My attendance isrequiredat amandatory town hall meetingthis evening at6 p.m. sharp.
“Another meeting?” I ask. A bubble of annoyance builds as I process the words and what’s being asked of me. “We had one six days ago. It ended with an argument about whether the recycling bins should be blue or green.”
“They should be green,” Greta interjects. Opinionated and blunt, she’s never afraid to share exactly what’s on her mind. “Blue is far too garish.”
“The two hours of discussion last week was enough, so we don’t need to rehash this same debate. Calling a random meeting that’s not plotted on the city calendar is a bit out of the ordinary. What if I have plans tonight? A date? Can they really make it mandatory?”
Chandler attempts to cover her laughter with an unconvincing cough. “Are we counting spending an evening on the couch with a bowl of popcorn and your favorite romance novel a date now?” she asks.
“So I’d rather be home with an Emily Henry book than listening to another man tell me about the fishing trip he took with his friends, Brad and Chad,” I say. “Big deal. What’s your point?”
“My point is, even though real men suck, at least they can get you off. They let you sit on their face and–”
Face-sitting, it appears, is the perverse line Greta won’t let us cross. “Stop it. Both of your love lives are a travesty,” she says firmly.
“Mine isn’t a travesty,” I counter. “I haven’t dated anyone in months.”
“Years,” Chandler corrects.
“Non-existent can still be a travesty. We have more pressing matters to deal with.”
The older woman’s posture straightens, spine turning so rigid, it could rival a steel rod. A smug smile appears, wrinkles prominent on her weathered cheeks.
Oh.
She knows something.
Something really, really good.
“I’ve heard a rumor about monetary compensation,” Greta continues.
“For attending a meeting?”
“There’s been rumblings about a contest of sorts.”
“What kind of contest?”
“Guess you’ll have to show up to the meeting to find out.” She shrugs.
The ambiguity, ironically, makes me think of Theo. He’s the least involved owner on the avenue, rivaling an investor you never see or hear from. He sends an enthusiastic proxy to town hall events in his place, a carousel of rotating hardware store employees popping into various meetings. Never one for chatty conversations or story swapping, he’s not usually inclined to cancel Friday night plans to accommodate someone else.
I doubt he’ll be there tonight, delegating the task to some poor college kid who will be bored to death while listening to another riveting lecture on trash days and window cleaning.
When I’m expected to alter my schedule for others, I think life would be less stressful if I took a more callous approach. I’m not the type of person to tell someone to fuck off. Considerate to a fault, empathy and compassion are my downfall. I’m the one who says yes, yes, and yes toeverything, becausenois too difficult. I’m the first to volunteer, to ask what needs to be done, always willing to sacrifice my time and energy for people who might not return the favor.
I hate it sometimes, this overwhelming need to make sure the world is content and satisfied. I wish I had the gall to be more outspoken. I wish I could put myself first instead of last. But I don’t, and I know despite my grumbling, I’m going to go to this meeting. I’m going to put a smile on my face, and do my best not to be annoyed by another meaningless presentation on sprinklers.
“Bridge? Do you want me to go?” Chandler asks.
“What?” I shake my head. “No way. You have your trip. I’ll find out what the fuss is about. Must be pretty important if they’re printing notices on colored paper. How long until we have a meeting on budgets?”
“Mark my words: you won’t want to miss this,” Greta says.
Her parting shot sounds like an ominous warning, a battle cry we’d be smart to listen to. As soon as she leaves the shop, horn blaring once more, I look at my best friend, completely bewildered.
“What the hell?” I ask Chandler.
