Page 36 of A Christmas Spark
“I have plenty of Christmas spirit,” George protested. “We’re doing the Santa and Mrs. Claus event again this year. Like every year. My Christmas spirit is abundant.”
“The evidence suggests otherwise,” Mabel said with a laugh. “The town Christmas committee has been trying to get you to participate more for years.”
“I sell Christmas trees,” George protested as Mabel dragged him forward. “How much more Christmas spirit do I need?”
The woman running the booth clapped her hands when she saw them approach. “Mabel Stewart! And is that George Lowery? What a delightful surprise!”
“Hello, Doris,” Mabel greeted her warmly. “We’d like to try some of your costumes.”
“We would not—” George began, but Doris was already pulling out a plush red Santa suit with an enormous white beard.
“This would be perfect for you, George!” Doris thrust the costume toward him. “You already dress up as Santa every year! Why not get some photos outside of that event?”
“Oh, I think not,” George said, backing away, but Mabel was already reaching for the costume.
“Don’t be such a stick in the snow,” she said, holding up the Santa suit to his frame. “Think of it as getting back onto the sleigh after missing last year’s event.”
George crossed his arms firmly. “I’m not wearing that. Once a year is enough.”
“Fine,” Mabel conceded, putting the Santa suit back. But her eyes were already scanning the rack for alternatives. “What about this?” She pulled out a green elf costume complete with pointed shoes and a jaunty hat with a bell on the end. The lookon her face said it all—she knew exactly how George felt about elves, and she was using it. He narrowed his eyes at her.
“That’s even worse,” he said. “Absolutely not.”
Mabel huffed, putting the elf costume back on the rack. “One day, as my yearly Santa, you’ll understand that elves are a critical part of Christmas, George. So what about… that’s it!” Mabel snapped her fingers, her eyes lighting up as she spotted something on the far rack. “Perfect!”
Before George could protest, she was rushing over to grab what appeared to be the most ridiculous costume yet—a full-body Christmas tree outfit, complete with ornaments dangling from the sides and a star headpiece.
“Absolutely not,” George said flatly as Mabel returned with the monstrosity. “I draw the line at dressing as my own merchandise.”
“Just try it on,” Mabel insisted, thrusting the costume toward him. “What’s the harm? No one but me and Doris will see.”
“And everyone who walks by the booth,” George pointed out. “I’m not dressing as a Christmas tree, and that’s final.” He folded his arms.
Mabel set the tree costume aside with a dramatic sigh. “Fine. Though honestly, George, the town already has one Christmas-hating grinch. We can’t possibly have two. Nolan’s already claimed that title.”
Despite himself, George laughed—a real, genuine belly laugh that drained some of the tension from his shoulders. The smile on Mabel’s face when she heard it didn’t hurt either.
“Well,” he said, still chuckling, “I suppose if Nolan’s cornered the market on being the town Scrooge, I can’t very well compete with him.” He held out his hand. “Give me the Santa outfit. I suppose I can compare it with the one you make me wear every year.”
Mabel’s cheeks glowed with pleasure, and somehow, that made him feel as if it was worth it. Even when he came out from behind the changing curtain, and saw three pre-teens staring with smirks on their faces.
When Mabel came out a moment later, dressed as the Christmas tree, he couldn’t help but laugh. Anyone else might have thought he was laughingather, but Mabel just grinned, shaking her head back and forth so that the star ornament bobbed ridiculously.
“Well, come get your pictures taken,” Doris encouraged them, and George grunted, but begrudgingly stood in front of the snowy backdrop to take a picture with Mabel. The look on her face, as enthusiastic a smile as he’d ever seen, even convinced him to change into the elf costume afterward, as Mabel swapped her costume for a gingerbread woman.
“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it,” Mabel exclaimed, clapping her hands. “George Lowery as an elf. I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Don’t get used to it,” he grumped, but she smiled even more broadly.
“I’m going to have photo evidence. These are going on my fridge at home. I’ll see them every day and remember the evening when George Lowery, hater of both chocolate-cookie baking and Christmas elves, dressed up as one.”
He frowned at her, but it felt hard to keep the expression on his face as Doris switched the backdrop to Santa’s workshop, and took another photo. When she handed the printouts to Mabel, Mabel gave him a copy of each, and he tucked them into his pocket.
“These are going directly into a drawer never to be seen again,” he said grumpily, and Mabel rolled her eyes.
“Sure, George.”
For all that Mabel’s presence made him willing to tolerate the market more than usual, he was ready to beeline it to the cider stand after the pictures were done. But as they emerged from the costume booth, Mabel’s eyes immediately began wandering to the other attractions around them, and George could practically see her mind working.
