Page 72 of Joy to Noel
I convinced Madison to sit with me in the back corner of the back row of chairs in the town hall. Partly because I’m still feeling uncertain about inserting myself as a member of the community, and partly because I wanted to run my fingers through Madison’s hair and caress her arm in relative privacy. The town hall has been fully transformed into a Christmas wonderland, which I assume can be credited to Clara. There are twinkle lights and fake pine garlands strung around the ceiling, a six-foot tree decorated in the front corner, and a small sleigh filled with wrapped presents and surrounded by fake snow. If this is how seriously they take Christmas in July, I can only imagine what the actual Christmas Fest is like.
Thankfully, there’s a stretch break before the next movie, so we mill around to sample cookies from the local bake club and coffee drinks from Becky.
Well, Madison samples some of the drinks. I scrunch up my nose at the outrageous amounts of syrup and toppings masquerading as “coffee.”
“Don’t be a Grinch,” Madison says, attempting to hand me a sample cup of something labeled Christmas Tree Farm. “Here, this one has rosemary—maybe that will be interesting enough for that refined palate of yours.”
“No, thank you,” I reply to Madison, then turn to Becky. “Don’t take it personally.”
“Best I can do is take it extra personally,” Becky jokes, quoting a popular meme. “I promise we do serve black drip coffee at the booth during Christmas Fest. It’s not all whipped-cream-laden drinks.”
“Now you just need some tea on the menu,” Madison sighs. “Myrefined palate is so offended.”
Becky shrugs sympathetically. “I’m just not sure how well it would sell. Maybe I’ll try offering a few different tea bags.”
“You should make a drink called ‘The Grinch’ that’s a matcha latte,” I suggest. “Sometimes all you need is a little marketing twist to get something to sell.”
Madison swivels to Becky. “Yes! Please, yes! I’ll teach you how to make them—please, please, please?”
“Fine, fine, we can try it for one year and see how it goes,” Becky acquiesces. “Any other bright ideas, Liam?”
“Well, if you really want to bring the European Christmas market flair to Noel, you’d sell mulled wine,” I say. “It’s only the most beloved beverage at the markets.”
Becky bursts out laughing. “That’s not a terrible suggestion, especially for all of the parents carting their kids around all day. But that would definitely need to be a separate booth from mine. I’ll be sure to bring it up during the brainstorm session.”
Madison makes no move to end conversation and return for the third movie, so I happily stay in the kitchenette as well. Becky describes the various special events held on the weekends during Christmas Fest—a parade down Main Street on Friday nights, a Rockettes-inspired musical performance on Saturdays, and the event where they pretend to rocket off all the kids’ letters to Santa from a rowboat on Sundays. It sounds like an impressive display, complete with well-timed fireworks.
“And you really change the pronunciation of the town from Nole to No-el for November and December?” I ask. “Like, officially?”
Becky nods. “It’s an official town ordinance. Clara’s great victory over Clark,” she adds with a wry grin. “Will you still be here in November, Liam? I hope you get to experience it all.”
“I’m not exactly sure what my future timeline looks like,” I say, darting an anxious glance at Madison. For as much as we said we would figure out our relationship as we go, we’ve pretty much skirted around any conversation about our future geographic locations.
I’m torn between my desire to stay close to Madison and the career advancement Holden offers. Ironically, my apartment in Houston is less and less of a selling point for continuing with Holden—considering I hardly spend any time there anyway. I never would have thought it would be true, but there’s a growing piece of me that wouldn’t mind staying right here in Noel.
But there’s no way that would fly with Cal. Even if I’m constantly on the move to different temporary jobs, he would always want my home base to be the headquarters in Houston.
We’re interrupted by Pops slowly ambling into the room. He leans on his cane and asks, “Becky, what’s a man got to do to get a cup of black coffee around here?”
“Thank you,” I say, feeling validated.
Pops turns to me. “I hear you two are going steady now. Can’t say I didn’t see that coming a mile away when you came by the house.”
I stifle a laugh and smile instead. “Yes, sir. I suppose it was only a matter of time,” I say, winking at Madison.
When I turn back to Pops, I’m met with a threatening glare. “Just know that we consider Madison one of our own here in Noel. So you’ll have a lot of people to answer to if you don’t treat her right. A lot of people with tools and trucks and boats and intimate knowledge of every isolated corner of the Arkansas woods. You understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” I answer solemnly. When I look over to Madison, I’m expecting to see some form of sarcastic, amused expression. I’m caught completely off guard by the glisten of tears she’s blinking away.
“Shall we go watch the end of the final movie?” I ask her, and she nods. When we return to our seats in the back row, I scoot my chair extra close to hers and wrap my arm around her shoulders. I don’t ask any questions about her emotional response to Pops’ protective speech—I just hold her close while we both pretend to watch the movie.
Itryto remain a silent observer during the post-movie brainstorm session. Clara stands at the front taking notes on a white board, but most of the discussion seems to be centered around minor tweaks to what already exists in the festival. Eventually, my brainstorm trainingfrom Dr. Cox can’t be contained any longer, and I hold up a hand to get Clara’s attention.
“You have an idea, Liam?” Clara asks, and the room turns to me.
I stand up and say, “I know you’ve been doing this festival for a couple of years now and have the basic foundation figured out. But it seems like you’re being too quick to converge on the things that have already worked and not taking enough time to diverge on totally new ideas.”
“What are you talking about?” someone asks from the second row. “What the heck do converge and diverge mean?”
