Page 10 of Joy to Noel
“I mean, how loose of a definition of the word ‘going’ are we using?” I evade. Clara gives me her best version of a glower, which isn’t sayingmuch, considering she’s one of the sweetest human beings to ever roam planet earth.
“It wasn’t as much fun without you,” I say. “Well, if ‘fun’ could ever be the correct adjective to describe this muscle torture.”
She shakes her head at me but smiles. “Why don’t we cut it short today and skip to the cool down stretch?” she suggests, turning to her laptop to skip the video ahead.
“No, no, I can do it,” I falsely protest, my voice an odd falsetto. When we’re done with the cool down, lying on our backs in a full-body stretch, I roll to my side to face Clara. Propping my head on a fist, I say, “I met my new and only neighbor this morning.”
Clara abruptly sits up and swivels to face me, legs crisscrossed. “And?”
“Liam Park, self-admitted know-it-all executive who’s obsessed with suits but has zero cares for the environment,” I declare. She knows to wait for the reality version of the story.
“He did ooze executive confidence but seemed like a decent enough guy. Tall but less tall than Clark. Clean-shaven, black hair in one of those preppy haircuts you’d imagine all the guys at Oxford have. Although, he was returning from a run—and had the athletic body to show for it—so I’ll have to withhold my final judgment on his hair vibe until I see it styled.” Clara nods along, and I’m grateful that she knows me well enough to not assume I’m interested in this guy just because I noted so much information about his physical appearance. This is simply what I do with everyone I meet.
I add, “I can see why he was sent here to clean things up. He didn’t buckle a single inch throughout the conversation.”
A laugh escapes from Clara’s throat before she can cover her mouth. “Good gracious, Mads. What did you subject him to?”
I exaggeratedly sigh. “Nothing too outrageous. Just poked and prodded his confident exterior a little to see how well it held up.”
“And?” Clara asks.
“Confidence stayed fully intact without coming across like an arrogant piece of work. Although, he definitely has stereotypical negative assumptions about small towns, as any lifelong city dweller might. So he’s in for a rude awakening when he realizes how legit the people ofNoel are,” I observe. “I have to say, my life just got a lot more interesting having him as a neighbor as I tackle life.”
“Speaking of, what’s on tomorrow’s to-do list for tackling life?” Clara asks.
I sit up and mirror her pose. “Aww, I love that you assume there are daily to-do lists. It’s like you know me or something.” Clara kicks my knee, and I hold up fingers as I list off tomorrow’s agenda. “A of all, decide on an official name for my business. B of all, investigate the official business-y registration what-nots that have to happen to make me for real. And C of all, secure a web domain. If there’s time, I’ll start the actual website-building process.”
“You are nothing if not ambitious,” Clara muses. “We could get a head start on your list. Let’s brainstorm name ideas! Do you have any thoughts on what direction to take it?”
I sputter a breath through my lips. “Eh, I’m not sure what the best course of action is. I could do something punny about words. Or I could choose something professional and posh like ‘Something-something Editorial Services.’ I haven’t decided what’s more likely to catch people’s attention.”
Clara stares up at the ceiling. “Why not make it more personalized? Something with your name?”
I scoff. “‘Madison Wheeler Editing’ doesn’t roll off the tongue.”
“Then use your middle name. Something with ‘Joy’ in the title could sound pretty. ‘Joyful Editing Services,’” Clara offers, and I make a face.
“Nooo, way too cheesy, Clara,” I say, but I chew on my lip as I give it more thought. “I suppose I could keep it ultra simple and brand the business as ‘Madison Joy Editorial.’ That does sound a little more appealing.”
“I love it!” Clara affirms. “Let’s act like your business is officially called Madison Joy Editorial all day, and you see how it sits in your mind when you’re lying in bed tonight.”
We spend the rest of the afternoon talking about Madison Joy Editorial like it’s already a real, thriving business. Clara accompanies me to the local grocery store, Noland’s, where I purchase enough staple foods to stock my small fridge and pantry. We catch up with Emily, whose husband owns the store. Emily used to work the register every day but has cut back her hours now that she’s the town mayor. She gives me the same welcome back to Noel that everyone has so far. Being associated with Clara means I’m a recipient of warm enthusiasm, even if I haven’t earned it myself. After dropping Clara off at her cabin, I return to my tiny one.
Although Clara invited me to stay for dinner, I declined. I know Clark well enough to assume that his energy is drained after socializing all weekend as a part of my official “welcoming committee.” Also, he’s ridiculously obsessed with being married to Clara. He’s going to be ready for a quiet night alone with his bride.
As I unload groceries from the trunk of my car, I can’t help but sneak a glance at the cabin across from mine. A light is on inside and the black SUV is parked out front, so I assume Liam is there. Even though I could easily loop all the grocery bags on one arm, I purposely make two trips on the off chance that Liam might come outside. I’m curious to see his styled hair so I can confirm my assumptions and pat myself on the back for astute observation.
To my mild disappointment, his front door remains closed, so I shut mine behind me. I put groceries away but decide I’m not really hungry enough to make dinner yet, so I pull out my laptop instead. Opening up my spreadsheet to-do list, I click tomorrow’s tab. It feels satisfying to check off the box next to “Choose Business Name” a day early.
However, checking that box opens Pandora’s box in my mind.
Who am I kidding, thinking that Madison Joy Editorial is somehow going to instantly take off and cover all my life expenses? This experiment is doomed to fail. If I couldn’t prove my value to the company I’d faithfully served for seven years, then how am I going to convince total strangers to contract with me?
You’re kidding yourself, Madison.
I’m seconds away from slamming my laptop shut and packing up my stuff when I glance to the side and see the tiny Christmas tree setup in the corner. Walking over to it, I turn on the lights, followed by the strands of twinkling lights strung overhead. I turn off the overhead fixture and soak in the dreamy glow.
Clara made her dreams happen here. Maybe a touch of her Christmas magic will linger long enough to help me achieve mine. Well, once I figure out exactly what my dreamsare.
