Page 82 of Mistletoe, Mayhem & Mr. Grump
"He thought it was a Christmas miracle gone wrong," Teddy explains. "Kept screaming about possessed nativity scenes."
"To be fair, you were moaning," June points out, taking notes as always.
"I was singing!" Teddy protests.
"You were doing something," Finn says diplomatically. "It had... sounds."
My phone rings, and I see Miranda Fletcher's name on the screen. My stomach drops. The bank. The morning after the gala. This can't be good.
"Hello?" I answer, trying to sound like someone who didn't spend last night kissing her fake-turned-real boyfriend seventeen times in public.
"Wren, good news!" Miranda's voice is actually cheerful, which seems impossible. "The loan committee met this morning."
"On a Saturday?" I ask.
"Emergency session. Apparently Malcolm Conway filed a complaint about your business practices," she explains.
"My business practices?" I squeak. "What business practices?"
"Something about emotional manipulation and frosting-based assault," Miranda says, and I can hear her trying not to laugh.
"The frosting was an accident!" I protest.
"The seventeen witnesses who saw you push him into the collapsing gingerbread suggest otherwise," she notes.
"I didn't push him. I... guided him. Forcefully. Toward the structurally unsound area," I admit.
"With intent?" she asks.
"With enthusiasm," I correct.
"Well, the committee found his complaint... let's say 'lacking merit,' especially after he tried to show them a PowerPoint about optimal loan practices," Miranda continues.
"He showed the loan committee a PowerPoint?" I ask, incredulous.
"Lots of slides. Gary Hutchinson fell asleep. Margaret Torres started playing phone games. Tom Bradley actually left," she lists. "But that's not the good news."
"There's good news beyond Malcolm humiliating himself?" I ask.
"Pierce Industries has officially withdrawn its interest in Snowfall Creek properties," she announces.
Everyone in the shop freezes.
"What?" I breathe.
"Holden Pierce—or Clark, as he's apparently now known—sent a formal letter to our corporate office. It states that Pierce Industries has no current or future interest in acquiring any properties in Snowfall Creek, and any previous pressure applied to local businesses should be disregarded," Miranda reads.
"He did that?" I ask, looking at Holden, who's trying to appear innocent while covered in mistletoe.
"There's more," Miranda continues. "He's also established a small business protection fund. Initial deposit of... oh my."
"What?" Teddy asks, while June leans forward with her pen ready.
"Five hundred thousand dollars," she says. "To be used in supporting local businesses facing predatory acquisition attempts."
"FIVE HUNDRED THOUSAND?" Giuseppe shouts, dropping his last chocolate flask. The mystery contents spill onto the floor and immediately start smoking.
"The floor might dissolve," Finn observes, backing away from the puddle.
