Page 8 of Moonlight Over Mistletoe
“And Eleanor’s ballroom dance contest was one of three proposals to win.” Nora took a bite of lasagna. “Oh.” She covered her mouth with her hand and swallowed. “I just got the best idea, ever.”
Christopher raised an eyebrow. “And what is that?”
“You sign up for the contest.”
The room fell quiet. “Me?” Christopher asked.
“Why not? You like dancing. It’s a good cause and need I remind you, we’re Kringles. It’s our duty to spread goodwill and cheer.”
“Nora,” Martin warned. “Don’t get cheeky.”
“I’m not. I’m serious,” Nora said. “Mistletoe needs participants and Great-grandpa can dance. We have to save the town hall, Dad, we have to.”
“She raises a good point,” Jack said. “And it will get my mother off your back about finding a hobby.”
Martin nodded.
Christopher considered it. One night to get Shelly off his back? “When is this event?”
“I don’t think the date has been announced yet, but my guess is that it will be before Christmas. The mayor wants things to happen fast. The crowdfunding page went up the day after he announced the winning proposals,” Martin said.
“That makes the decision for me. You know this is our busiest time of the year. I can’t neglect my Santa duties.”
“It’s not a huge commitment,” Jack said. “Plus, have you ever heard of the worddelegate? You have an army of people working for you.”
Christopher glared over his glasses at Jack. “Yourself included. Don’t forget that.” The thing was, his grandsons were right. It was not a huge commitment at all. One night of dancing to have Shelly off his back. That was a risk worth taking. “Alright,” he told them. “I’ll do it.” He held up his wineglass. “Here’s to the ballroom dancing contest.”
7
Eleanortookadeepbreath and squared her shoulders as she pushed open the glass door of the library's meeting room. As she stepped inside, five pairs of eyes turned to greet her, curiosity and skepticism evident in their expressions.
“There she is. The woman of the hour,” said Mildred King, the eternally chipper head librarian. Eleanor fought the urge to roll her eyes at the woman's saccharine tone.
“Hello,” Eleanor said and took a seat at the long table. She scanned the faces around her, mentally cataloging their potential reactions to her proposal.
Caleb Winters, the general store owner, offered a kind smile that she pointedly ignored. The man was nice to everyone. Then there was Sadie Kringle, the Miami transplant who'd taken over the Snowflake Sugar Shop and married Martin. Of course, Mayor Evergreen's overly perky assistant, Gloria Woodward, gave her a wide, practiced smile without even a hint of sincerity.
Bert Jones, the bank manager, spoke up. “Shall we begin? Eleanor, I believe you have a presentation for us regarding the ballroom dance fundraiser?”
Eleanor nodded stiffly, her fingers tightening around the folder in her lap. “Yes. Of course. I've prepared a detailed outline of the event.” She stood, hoping no one would notice her shaking hands as she distributed copies of her meticulously crafted plan. The room silenced, save for the sound of flipping pages as each committee member read it through. Eleanor sat back in her chair and braced herself for the inevitable criticism and judgment.
“This is quite comprehensive,” Caleb remarked. “I'm impressed, Eleanor.”
Surprise flickered across Eleanor's face before she could school her features. “Well, I'm glad you think so,” she said. “I don't do things by halves.”
As the committee members began to nod and murmur appreciatively, a flicker of confidence ignited within her. She launched into the proposal's details.
“What about judges?” Bert inquired, leaning forward with interest. “You've mentioned judges but have included no names. Do we have qualified individuals in town?”
Eleanor's eyes glinted. “As a matter of fact, I've contacted several former colleagues from my competitive dancing days and asked if they'd be interested in serving as judges.” Sending those emails out had been one of the hardest things she'd ever done. It had been years since she'd contacted any of them, and she'd expected either a curt no or no reply at all. But much to her surprise, everyone had been so gracious and happy to hear from her. “It's hard for anyone to commit as we don't yet have a date, but I've already had interest from several of them.”
A hush fell over the room. Caleb's eyebrows shot up. “Competitive dancing? Eleanor, I had no idea you had that kind of background. I knew you had once owned a dance school in Seattle, but I didn't know that you danced, at least not at that level.”
Eleanor lifted her chin, a whisper of pride creeping into her voice. “Yes, well, there's a lot you don't know about me, Caleb. My husband, Carl, and I were champion ballroom dancers.”
“That's incredible,” Gloria breathed, genuine admiration in her eyes. “Your expertise will be invaluable in making this event a success.”
Eleanor straightened her posture. “Yes. I hope it will. Now, let's discuss the finer points, shall we?”
