Page 45 of If You Give a Grump a Christmas Tree Farm
Neither of us has mentioned the kiss from last night, and maybe that’s for the best. I was probably out of line, and I suppose she wants to pretend it never happened.
We find a couple of empty folding chairs at the end of the third row, and I stow the big black garbage bag at my feet with the sample wreath inside.
After the call to order, there’s the Pledge of Allegiance and a prayer. They approve the minutes, the city manager’s report, and then they handle old business, which tonight is something about an amendment to an ordinance of the municipal code designating the requirement of animal-resistant garbage containers.
This all drones on, and I’m leaning in my chair with my arms folded, trying not to nod off.
Finally, they move on to the next topic, which is items from the public.
Since only three hands go up, they don’t require them to form a line, instead just calling on each. Since Rebecca is the only woman, they call on her first.
“Yes, ma’am. Go ahead with your name and business,” one of the council members states.
She stands and clears her throat. “Thank you. I’m Rebecca Reardon. My partner and I have taken over Holly Jolly Tree Farm.”
All eyes focus on her and me.
“We’ve come before you today because we heard you may be looking to upgrade the town’s holiday decorations this year. For the lampposts, specifically. We’d like to be considered for fresh wreaths for all thirty lampposts around the town square. I have this example for you to consider.” She turns to me, and I stand, pulling the wreath from the bag.
I approach the dais and let each member get a good look at it.
They seem interested, leaning closer to inspect it.
One of the women on the council tilts her head, then points her pencil between Rebecca and myself. “Wait a minute. You two are the couple from the ad I’ve been seeing everywhere on my social media, aren’t you?”
I grin. “Guilty as charged.”
She covers her microphone and leans to the man next to her, whispering something. They have a furtive conversation, and I set the wreath in front of them and return to my seat next to Rebecca.
The man clears his throat. “Perhaps we can make an arrangement.”
I frown and catch Rebecca’s eyes.
“An arrangement?” she asks.
“You see, we’re in need of a couple for the town’s living nativity. The couple who committed to play Joseph and Mary had to cancel. Perhaps if the two of you could take their place, the city could take a serious look at purchasing thirty of these wreaths of yours.”
“We’ll do it,” Rebecca replies, and I gape at her.
“Wait. Are you serious?”
She elbows me. “We’d love to take part in such a wonderful town tradition. Wouldn’t we, JJ?”
“Um, sure.” I glare at her.
“Wonderful. Do you have a business card?” the man asks.
Rebecca approaches and passes one to each of the members.
“We’ll be in touch with the details,” the man advises with a nod.
“Thank you. We appreciate the opportunity.”
“The wreaths are very nice,” the woman who recognized us says. “Just what Main Street needs.”
After the meeting ends, I collect the sample, and we head out to the truck. Once we’re out of earshot of any people, I hiss at her. “What the hell have you gotten us into?”
“You heard them. We had to agree or we wouldn’t get the business, and thirty wreaths will bring in over a thousand dollars. We need the money.”
