Kissing Under the Mistletoe - By Marina Adair Page 0,71
piled all of the CPR dolls against him, careful not to damage his sheen. Once he was securely hidden, she reminded him to be quiet, clicked off the light, and left the room—only to come face to face with a very winded, very wet, and very pissed Isabel Stark.
The janitor was apologizing profusely about how she was just mopping up the south hall, doing her job, didn’t see Isabel in time, and hoped that the mop handle wouldn’t leave a bruise on her beautiful forehead.
Isabel, however, didn’t miss the look passing between Regan and the woman, nor did she miss Regan coming out of the closet. The closet which Regan plastered her body against.
“Stop touching me,” Isabel harped, batting away the other woman’s hands. She marched over to Regan, took in the business suit, and glared. “It’s too late, you know. The board already hates you. So it doesn’t matter that Holly got the lead.”
“Holly got the lead?” Regan whispered, and no matter how hard she tried to be angry, her heart warmed and a smile broke across her face.
Her baby had done it. Set her mind on something, practiced hard, and got her dream part. No matter what happened in that meeting, how bad Isabel tried to make Regan look, Holly was going to play Christmas Kitty.
“Not for long. Every parent has to volunteer, as stated in the bylaws. And you”—Isabel poked her in the chest—“didn’t do your fair share. I am sure the council will see it that way and then Lauren, who is the understudy, will get to play Christmas Kitty.”
“Actually, Isabel,” Regan began, trying to remember what ChiChi had told her, “I have met with my committee and the costumes are coming along wonderfully. In fact, we decided to take a Jesus Christ, Superstar–meets–Cirque Du Soleil approach to their design. I’m sure the council will just love our ideas. It’s very New Age meets traditional.”
Isabel’s mouth fell open and Regan patted herself on the back for that last part. The costumes, just like the direction she hoped the council would embrace, merged the new with the traditional.
Isabel didn’t have a snarky comeback. In fact, she stood so silent that Regan was about to leave. Convinced Isabel would need time to strategize on how best to next screw with the Martin women, and remembering that ChiChi was waiting in the parking lot, she eased off the door. She had taken only three steps when Isabel pounced.
Shoving Regan aside, Isabel yanked open the door, flicked on the light, and didn’t even let out so much as a gasp.
“Es el diablo,” the janitor whispered, jerking a chin toward Isabel.
“What are you hiding?” Isabel said, her eyes scanning the room. “You came in here with a big box and now you only have your purse.”
“Tampons,” the heavy accent cut through the air.
Isabel looked from one to the other. The janitor folded her arms in front of her and glared as if daring Isabel to call her a liar.
With a huff and one final scan, Isabel slammed the door. A very muffled “Merry Christmas one and all” sounded through the wood.
Regan closed her eyes and banged her head against the wall as Isabel yanked open the door again and riffled through all of the bodies to come up with the only one that mattered. The one with the bright red nose and big smile. And the one that was going to ruin everything.
“I knew it!” Isabel cheered. “I knew you had to have something to do with ChiChi’s car and the Christmas display. Wait until the board hears about this. Those old biddies’ savior is none other than the person who single-handedly tried to steal Christmas.”
Regan grabbed Randolph. “I will tell them.”
“Tell us what, dear?”
Regan couldn’t answer, because when she turned around about thirty sets of eyes, all alive and all members of the town council, greeted her with strained smiles. Then they saw Randolph and the smiles fled, leaving only strain.
“Yeah, tell them, Regan,” Isabel prodded.
“You found Randolph!” ChiChi screeched, waddling up to lay a loving pat on the reindeer’s head.
“Is that true?” a thin man with thin limbs and an even thinner head of hair asked. Benson was not only head of the town council, he was also the former high school principal and known for sniffing out BS. Which probably explained why his nostrils started flaring the second Regan opened her mouth.
“I was waiting at my car for ChiChi,” Regan said, the woman in question beaming up at