Page 69 of Mistletoe, Mayhem & Mr. Grump
Chapter 13
Wren
The Christmas Committee has assembled in my apartment like a disaster response team, if disaster response teams were run by people who think glitter is a food group and committee meetings require themed snacks.
"We need a strategy," Delia announces, spreading blueprints of the community center across my coffee table. Actual blueprints. With measurements and emergency exits marked in red.
"Why do you have blueprints?" I ask, still clutching the fire extinguisher from the Great Pasta Fire of ten minutes ago.
"I have blueprints for every building in town," she says matter-of-factly. "You never know when you'll need to stage an intervention."
"Or a heist," Giuseppe adds hopefully, examining the plans. "Look, there's a service entrance by the kitchen!"
"We're not robbing the gala," June says, though she's also studying the blueprints with interest.
"We might need to extract Wren if Malcolm gets too insufferable," Finn points out. "What's the extraction protocol?"
"There's an extraction protocol?" I ask weakly. I’ve managed to have lost complete control of my life.
"Page seventy-two of the binder," Delia says, flipping through her massive committee handbook. "Though it was designed for medical emergencies, not ex-boyfriend encounters."
"Same thing," Mrs. Patterson mutters. "Malcolm causes hives."
"That's not medical," June says.
"Emotional hives," Mrs. Patterson clarifies. "Very serious condition."
My phone buzzes with a text from an unknown number. Reading it, my stomach drops.
Unknown:Looking forward to seeing you at the gala. I'll save you a dance. -Malcolm
"Malcolm’s going to ask me to dance," I announce to the room.
"Unacceptable," Delia declares. "You'll dance with Holden."
"Holden's a corporate spy who lied about everything!" I remind her.
"Yes, but he's OUR corporate spy who lied about everything," Teddy says, like this makes perfect sense. "Besides, his dancing scores were excellent."
"What?" I ask.
"His foxtrot rated eight point seven. Malcolm's waltz never exceeded six point two." Delia reminds me.
The door bursts open, and Iris rushes in, phone in hand. "Emergency update! Sterling's car won't start! He stopped at the light at Maple and Main, and now it won’t go."
"Did the sugar work?" Giuseppe asks innocently.
"What sugar?" Iris asks. "His battery died. Mysterious corrosion."
"How mysterious," Mrs. Patterson says, hiding her sugar bag behind her back.
"Very mysterious," Delia agrees.
"That's definitely illegal," June notes, but she's smiling.
"Allegedly illegal," Mr. Jackson corrects. "No witnesses, no crime."
"There were twelve witnesses," June points out.
