today, St. Helena will remain a relevant community whose roots are deeply planted in the Founding Fathers’ ideals of community,” Regan said, staring into the rearview mirror and adopting her most confident expression.
Though no one in the town hall would be able to guess it by the amount of cover-up under her eyes and caffeinated energy pumping through her veins, Regan had achieved no more than one hour of sleep. She had stayed up most of the night preparing for today. And thinking about Gabe.
There was no way those yoga pants mommies were going to bulldoze over her Mrs. Clauses. Just like there was no way Regan was going to walk away from a chance at something incredible with Gabe.
The more she thought about it, the more she realized how silly she had been. Every day single moms dated and fell in love, and every day they still managed to raise healthy, wonderful children. Her mother hadn’t been able to manage both, but that didn’t mean Regan couldn’t.
Then it will be enough.
Had he really said that? Regan felt her cheeks heat.
If she could handle raising Holly all by herself for the last...almost six years, then she could handle a relationship with a man. Especially when that man was sweet and thoughtful and honest. And went out of his way to make her feel special, as though she mattered.
With a final dab of lipstick, she gathered her purse and opened the car door, ready to dazzle. That city council was going to take one look at her PowerPoint presentation and realize just how important tradition was. How important the Mrs. Clauses were to this town. And how important this town could be to its people.
She stepped out, smoothed down her power skirt, and smiled. Breathing in the crisp air, she looked up, and it was as if the heavens themselves were shining down. She hoped it was a foreshadowing of just how great today was going to be.
She opened the truck, smiled down at Randolph, who was going to be returned to his rightful home today, pulled out her briefcase, and—
“There you are, dear.”
—slammed the trunk, catching her blazer in the latch and tearing the shoulder out. She tugged the sleeve loose and turned, spying ChiChi wearing poinsettia-red-and-green bangle bracelets, shuffling across the parking lot toward her.
ChiChi looked frazzled, her eyes wide and darting right then left, as if she were afraid to be seen talking to Regan. That was when Regan noticed that the parking lot, given that the emergency meeting was supposed to begin in just ten minutes, was extremely sparse of townspeople and pitchforks.
“What’s going on, ChiChi?” Regan glanced at her watch.
“What’s going on,” ChiChi repeated, her voice elevating with every syllable. “That backstabbing twit Isabel is going on. She’s out to screw you.”
“What?”
“Did you volunteer for the Costume Committee?” the old woman panted, her hand on her heaving chest.
Regan felt her own chest return to somewhere normal. By the way ChiChi was carrying on, she’d thought she’d missed the meeting or something had happened to Holly.
“Isabel was kind enough to put my name down to help out, so yes.”
“Help out? Child, that woman put you down as costume chair, meaning you run the entire committee. And she’s in there right now telling the council how you haven’t made it to a single meeting, your committee has not been informed of what is going on, and that you haven’t even decided on patterns or bought the fabric.”
“Now?” Regan checked her watch for the tenth time in so many minutes. “The meeting doesn’t start until nine.”
“We’re on the agenda at nine, she’s been flapping her gums since eight fifteen.”
Of course she has, Regan thought, her heart back to hyper-speed. “Wait, I have to buy the fabric?”
“The fabric, patterns, and all related materials. The council will pay you back, but you have to invoice them.”
“ChiChi, I don’t have that kind of money. Even if I did, I said I’d help out, not run the thing.”
“Which is why that woman signed you up as chair. She wants you to fail. And if you walk in there with nothing to show, those members are going to crucify you.”
“And let me guess.” Regan closed her eyes, understanding what was really going on. “If that happens, it will discredit me and the council won’t listen to our presentation.”
“Oh, they’ll listen. They just won’t support your ideas. They already think I’m soft in the head for losing Randolph. I can’t have them thinking you’re a