Christmas in Evergreen Tidings of Joy - Nancy Naigle Page 0,4
many cute shops nestled together on this road. She was itching to explore and enjoy this place.
“I know, but this story possibly could lead to something bigger for you. We’re going to be hiring additional full-time staff in the new year, and this would help move you to the front of the line.”
Katie pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to be short with her mother, but this wasn’t how she wanted to spend her vacation. She hadn’t even had a chance to unpack her suitcase yet. And working at the magazine was not her end goal. “Mom. We’ve been over this. Freelancing is one thing, but working at the magazine is not on my radar. I’m excited to write my second novel. I’m here to get in writer mode again.”
“I know, but you’re really good at this too, and it’s still writing. And it’d be nice to get you something, you know, stable.”
Katie bit her tongue. There it was. “I know. Mom…” She sighed. Just say no! “I don’t think I can right now.” Almost a no.
“Take a few hours and see if an idea occurs to you, and—”
Katie waited, but there was nothing but silence from the other end of the phone. “Mom? Hello, Mom? Are you there?” She jabbed at the buttons on her phone. Her battery was completely exhausted. She grimaced as she rummaged through her bag for her charger, but couldn’t put her hands on it.
She’d last had her charger in her hand when she’d been talking to that guy; she must’ve dropped it. She looked back toward the train depot.
At that moment, the long blast from a horn sounded. She could hear the train chugging along the track, working to pick up speed to get visitors back to the city.
She lifted her tote back onto her shoulder and rolled her suitcase down the sidewalk in search of a store to buy a new phone charger.
On Main Street, a man and woman hurried past her, carrying a life-size Santa figurine under their arms like a canoe. This part of town was teeming with people. Every storefront and window was in the process of being decorated—absolutely humming with holiday activity. There was almost a sizzle in the air; she felt a rush of the contagious joy while neighbors helped neighbors turn Main Street into a real-life Santa Claus lane.
Maybe she’d read one too many articles about this place. But even that thought couldn’t keep her from humming a chorus or two of “Here Comes Santa Claus” as she continued her search for a convenience store.
Townspeople wrapped wide ribbons around the black street lamps, garlands swagged the front of every store, and she’d never seen so many different decorations. Nutcrackers, candy canes, bells, and bows were going up all over town.
A man fastened a big red mailbox for letters to Santa to a platform smack dab in the middle of Town Square. How fun! Katie was dazzled by the buzz of activity and beautiful decorations.
Lots of traditional red, green, and gold, but there were jewel tones and pastels too. A kaleidoscope of colors all balanced by the white snow and evergreens covering so much of the area.
She burst into a grin when she recognized the diner mentioned in the magazine article, the Chris Kringle Kitchen. Ben, the guy from the train, had said it wasn’t named after Santa, but there was Santa right there on the sign. She raised her chin. All of this had to be a clever marketing advantage.
A man and woman stood in front of the Kringle Kitchen, decorating a live Christmas tree. They took turns hanging colorful ornaments on the limbs. A younger woman joined them with a bright red box in tow, and all three of them huddled around it. Katie wondered what was inside. Maybe it was an early Christmas present.
Katie passed the Letters to Santa mailbox. A father stood nearby as his children dropped brightly colored envelopes into the slot on top. Katie giggled as she read the hand-painted board below the post box. “Drop your letters, or thank-you cards, to Santa here.” Wish I’d thought of that. Santa deserves a few thank-yous. I might write him one myself.
She glanced back across the way toward the Chris Kringle Kitchen again, and her breath caught. The younger woman stood there, shaking a snow globe. That snow globe had to be the one she’d read about in the magazine earlier. Was this all just one big, scripted event?