It's a Fabulous Life, page 19
“The boa!” Bailey yelled, and reached for it.
“The boa!” Maria whipped it off and crossed it over Tropical Dominatrix’s neck. It settled just as Tom called time.
Maria leaned against Bailey and twined their arms. They burst into laughter studying their creation. A stringy-haired, sunglass-wearing tropical dominatrix with a carrot for a mouth.
“We make much better trivia partners,” Bailey said, which made Maria giggle harder.
Tom commented on each of the other snow people. The crowd cheered for their favorites. Everyone was so happy, regardless of how their design turned out. The festival attendees drank cocoa and cider and ate sweet treats. It was honestly something out of a Christmas movie.
How had she lost sight of that magic? Sure, the Wonderfest was a ton of work, but it was always worth it. And she was enjoying it with Maria’s arms nestled in her own. Maria smiling and laughing on a sunny, cool afternoon.
Maybe it was so enjoyable this year because she was sharing it with Maria.
“What do we have here?” Tom stopped in front of their snow lady, scratching his head. “A day at the beach?”
“Dreaming of a Caribbean Christmas,” Bailey said.
“I see. Interesting use of mittens.” He pointed at the makeshift bikini top to the delight of the crowd. “You defied convention by not using the carrot for a nose. Bold choice.”
Bailey could only laugh. A gust of wind caught the feather boa. It waved like it was beckoning Tom over. Their tropical lady was terrible, but she loved it. Judging by Maria’s wide smile, so did she.
“All right, folks,” Tom said. “What do you think about a day at the beach here?”
People were very kind in their playful applause, but this was clearly not the winner. Tom walked back and did another cheer test for the second team and their Dickensian snowman. Then the father-daughter team with a colorful snow clown. Bailey hooted loudly for them both. When the father-daughter team got awarded the big blue ribbon, she and Maria shouted out with glee. The little girl was so happy, her joy could’ve melted Jack Frost.
“Sorry we didn’t win,” Bailey said.
“That’s okay. It was fun.”
“It was fun.”
“See?” Maria teased. “It’s nice to have fun once in a while.”
“Okay, okay.”
With you around, I’ll always have fun.
They swiftly stripped Tropic Thunder so Bailey could get back to work. Her mind played through several lovely scenarios of sneaking off to Mistletoe Grove with Maria during the madrigals’ performance. As adults who knew exactly what they wanted. As two people who could have something really good here.
She liked who she was with Maria: lighthearted, relaxed, a bit silly. Hopefully, the same was true in reverse. Maria deserved someone who loved her with as much gusto as she had for … everything.
It would be an honor to be that person.
“Let me grab our drinks,” Maria said, and rushed off toward the registration table.
Bailey picked up her messenger bag. Just a little while longer until darkness settled and they could revive their favorite Christmas memory. Everyone would be paid, and the volunteers would speed through the necessary post-concert cleanup, and then she and Maria could figure things out. And have a lot of fun figuring them out.
Maria returned with the tumblers clunking together as she read something on her phone. “My parents want to come, but don’t want to leave Rosie alone.” She held Bailey’s mug out for her. “Do you think it’d be okay if I had her here with me?”
“How does she do in crowds? Is she a Nervous Nellie in new places?”
“She loves the attention. And she has this really cute, Christmassy coat I just got her that makes her look less like a big, scary dog and more like the love-bug she is.”
After a sip of cocoa, Bailey said, “Then I’m sure it’d be fine. My mom’s going to bring Lulu in her stylish green turtleneck.”
“Ooh, yes. Rosie needs a role model to learn from.”
They started in the direction of the stage, staying off the busy path in favor of the packed snow. Having their dogs tonight hadn’t been part of the fantasy, but wasn’t a deal breaker. Mistletoe and mutts could work.
“So.” Bailey tilted her head downward. “There’s some general takedown tomorrow. The tables and chairs, un-decorate, remove the signs. Purely voluntary. Just a few hours in the morning. I usually thank my committee by buying them lunch.”
“Tomorrow?” Maria squinted like she was thinking hard. “I’ll have to check my jam-packed social calendar.”
“If you want, we could go to the dog park after. Let our monsters burn off some energy.”
“Possibly.” She made that mysterious Mona Lisa face. “And then what?”
“After the dog park?”
“Yes.”
“Then … You could come over. We can watch a Christmas movie.”
“Which one?”
“Whatever you want to watch,” Bailey said. “Your choice.”
“Die Hard?” Maria teased.
“If you want.”
“What about dinner? You know Rosie will have to eat.”
“Of course. Rosie can stay for dinner.”
Maria blinked her lovely doe eyes. “Can I?”
“Hmm.” Bailey pretended to consider it. “Do you like spaghetti?”
“I do like spaghetti.”
“I can make us spaghetti. That’s one of the few things I don’t mess up too terribly.”
A slow smile spread across Maria’s face. “You’ll cook for me?”
“Sure. Dine at your own risk, though.”
“So you’re asking me over for dinner.”
Bailey’s heartbeat drummed in her ears. “I guess I am.”
Maria leaned into her side. “I can bring dessert.”
“Dessert would be …” The greatest thing in the history of things. “Nice. Something that won’t melt. I have a fireplace we can eat in front of.”
“Mmm. A fireplace and a couple of comfy pillows and blankets?”
“I have some very comfortable pillows and throw blankets,” Bailey assured her.
Someone bumped into her from behind. They’d stopped walking and were staring at each other again. The heat building in Maria’s dark eyes was enough to abandon the festival and light that fire and grab every pillow and piece of linen at home and have themselves a very merry little Christmas.
Maria opened her mouth, but the sound of groaning metal filled the air.
They searched for the source. What the hell?
It groaned louder. Screams came from inside the food tent. The back side slumped like the Titanic going down. Shit.
Bailey raced toward it, watching the top partially collapse. Shit. That fricking bent pole must’ve given out.
A wall of people halted her progress. She shoved her way through, Maria on her heels.
Parents hustled their children through the exit. Voices blurred together in various states of alarm. A gaggle of tween girls walked out, filming the whole thing with their phones.
Bailey dashed inside the tent. Oh thank God, it hadn’t caved in. The back side walls hung limp and the canopy sagged, but everything else appeared to be intact.
“Everyone please exit the tent,” she called over the noise.
She and Maria politely but firmly ushered diners toward the opening. Calm on the outside, panic running through her body.
A female park district employee hurriedly turned off the two patio heaters. Bailey gave her a grateful thank-you.
“Never seen that happen,” said an old-timer as he stared up at the top.
“I’m so sorry,” Bailey said. “Please exit safely.”
Ellis joined them to assist with the evacuation. “What happened?” she asked Bailey.
“A bent support pole, I think. I’ll check as soon as—”
“We’ve got this. Find Vince. Get it fixed.”
Bailey nodded and squeezed through the entrance. Vince was no doubt already there. Why the hell didn’t anybody do something about that pole?
Vince and one of his crew were dragging two of the guylines from where they’d landed. All four in that corner had come unstaked from the ground. The asshole pole bent upward like it was giving them the finger.
Bailey grabbed one of the lines. “Is it going to fall?”
“No,” said Vince. “We’ll get these back in to hold the weight. That pole’s shot, though.”
Carter approached them, asking, “What can I do?”
“Grab that other support cable,” Vince said.
Two burly bystanders offered to help stake the guylines. Once those were secure, they assessed the damage. The side walls were still slumping, and man, if the tent had been crooked before …
Bailey and Vince and the crew member walked down the back side. The other supports appeared to be holding tight. She couldn’t help but say, “Completely secure, huh?”
Vince inspected the asshole pole. “I don’t know what happened with this. It was just a little bent. It’s like someone leaned on it or messed with it.”
All the blood drained from her face.
She’d only wiggled it a little. Surely this wasn’t because of her. Walking Lulu every day hadn’t made her strong enough to bend steel.
Oh, shit. What if she’d jostled it enough to render it unstable?
Another male member of the park district crew came over. The trio discussed what they could do to bolster the tent. They had it under control, so Bailey said, “I’m going back in to see what they need.”
This isn’t your fault. It’s a bizarre fluke. Someone inside the tent leaned on one of the side walls. Or the strain on the pole got to be too much.
By the time she reached the entrance, the tent had been cleared of festival-goers. The heaters had been pushed to one side. Maria, Ellis, and Carter dragged tables and chairs away from the slumping back wall.
“The tent is secure,” Bailey told them. “But we shouldn’t use it until they can do something about the support pole that’s bent.”
“You were right about it looking wonky,” Maria said.
Bailey helped them get everything away from the sloping side. Ellis passed by with two folding chairs. “What a day, huh?”
“What a day,” Bailey echoed.
The tent had never been anything but secure, even in years when the weather had been terrible. It figured it would happen this year. Just one more thing to—
“Look out!” a man shouted.
“Now what?” Bailey groaned.
She ran outside in time to see the Gruber hot cocoa cart crash into the base of the Christmas tree.
THE ANGELS
Clara stood with her face mashed against the door inside the RV. They’d claimed a parking spot (well, two) outside the village green, and she so wanted to get out to see what all the ruckus was about.
Jovanna and Gabriella sat at the small table, watching Bailey on the old TV. Jovi’s nifty trick of remote viewing had come in handy with Bailey being here, there, and everywhere that day.
People yelled and screamed and ran away from the large Christmas tree. “I can’t wait around any longer,” Clara said.
“It’s not time yet,” said Gabi.
“When is it going to be time?” Clara planted her hands on her hips. “I’ve wanted to intervene all day, but you keep holding tight to your annoying wait-and-see approach.”
“Because it’s not time,” Gabi repeated.
Clara shook her dark blonde curls. “I’m going in,” she said, and pushed the door open.
“Hang on a minute,” Gabi said behind her, but it was time for action.
She ran in her fuzzy slippers into the village green. Dodged a few people coming from the opposite direction.
The storeowner Mr. Gruber pulled his son back from a cheerful red cart buried in evergreen and lights. The park district employees grabbed at the swaying branches and tried to steady the tree. The impact had made it sway off kilter.
Clara hadn’t been able to help when Bailey lost the checks and the band. She hadn’t been able to stop the tent from caving in. But she could do this.
She rubbed her hands together to gather energy and focused on the tree. A natural breeze blew through the air. She piggybacked onto it and swirled the current around the tree. Using her left hand, she waved at the tree to get it to straighten in the stand. It wavered and wobbled. Not enough force.
She pushed her right hand at the tree. A big gust of wind kicked up. Uh-oh.
“Too much, too much,” she said, grabbing at the air.
Clara watched helplessly as the wind caught the tree and sent it falling backwards. More screams came from frightened people.
Thankfully, it landed on a row of trees behind it. But oh, what a mistake. What a huge blunder.
She clasped her hands against her mouth. This was bad. Really bad.
Bailey pressed Maria back with a protective arm. The poor woman looked positively dumbfounded. This was not the way to make things easier for her.
“Clara Angel,” Gabriella hissed from the sidewalk. “What did I tell you? Get over here right now.”
Clara clutched the lapels of her jade green blazer. She was in Trouble with a capital T. “It was just supposed to be a nudge,” she said to her drag mother when she joined her.
Gabi gave her a long-suffering sigh. “Let’s review how to properly gather energy,” she said, and held out a hand toward the RV.
Clara glanced at Bailey staring at the once proud tree. “Sorry, sweetie,” she said, and left the cleanup to the professionals.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Just … what? And how?
Bailey relaxed her arm now that Maria wasn’t in imminent danger from a rogue Christmas tree. Thank God it’d been caught by neighboring maples. It rested in the branches like it needed to take a nap.
Then the lights went out on the tree. And outside the tent.
Fresh commotion came from the food vendors. Everything had gone suddenly quiet, and where were their lights?
“We lost power,” someone said, and a bunch of others agreed.
Terrific.
Vince barked orders to his crew to get the bucket truck. Ellis held her palms up, looking around. “What happened to the power over here? The stage is still lit.”
“One of the main generators is behind the tree,” Bailey said. “I’m guessing it went out because of …” She waved at the reclining evergreen.
Jane rushed over with a wireless microphone. “Do you want to say anything?” she asked Ellis.
Ellis cleared her throat and pasted on a smile. “Hello, everyone,” she said into the mic. “Boy, has today been full of adventure. We’ll get everything back up and running just as soon as we can. In the meantime, please steer clear of the tree. And the food tent.”
“That tree’s gonna fall,” a woman shielding her two young children said.
“What about the tent?” cried another mother.
“I hear your concerns, and we’re working on them. Please head down to do some shopping, or create a special wreath to take home. This is certainly a day to remember.” Ellis shared a look with Bailey.
The mayor continued assuaging attendees’ concerns. Bailey couldn’t stand there while the festival literally collapsed around them. She felt physically ill and a little dizzy.
She started toward the tree. Maria followed, but Bailey halted her. “Stay back in case something happens.”
“I’m helping you,” Maria said.
“I don’t want you anywhere near that tree or the generator.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Heat shot through her bloodstream. “I am not going to endanger you. Stay here. Help Ellis.”
Maria protested, but Bailey turned and marched on. No way was she putting Maria in harm’s way.
Mr. Gruber saw her coming. “We don’t know what happened,” he said. “The cart lost control and rolled away.”
“I’m so sorry,” his son said, wringing his hands.
“Whatever,” Bailey said. It was par for the course today.
She joined Vince near the accident site. “Can we get the tree back up?” she asked.
“Yeah. It’s still in the base.”
“What about the generator?”
“The breaker tripped. It’s a safety feature that gets triggered when it’s jostled. We’ll get it running once the tree’s dealt with. I don’t want anyone crawling beneath that.” He held his arm in front of some dude snapping photos. “Stay back, man.”
Bailey had to do the same to an overly curious young couple. It was beyond absurd. How did a cocoa cart knock over a tree? How did a slightly bent pole defy the laws of physics or chemistry or whatever? What was next—someone setting the wreath decorating station on fire with a too-hot glue gun?
An older white woman walked by and visibly sniffed to the man with her. “I heard great things about this festival. I guess they were wrong.”
The man harrumphed in agreement. Bailey tried to dig deep to find her customer service skills, but they were gone.
Arnie rushed into the village green, fully dressed as Santa Claus. “Everyone step back,” he commanded in his stern deputy voice. Which was slightly ridiculous, given his attire.
To Bailey, he said, “I got here as fast as I could. What happ—oh.” He noticed the cocoa cart.
“Toy drive?” Bailey guessed, nodding at his padded belly.
“I was just finishing up when …” Arnie leaned his head way back to take in the tilted tree.
The Grubers approached him to tell their story. Bailey moved to stop a couple of teenagers dressed all in black, but they focused in on her.
A girl with flat-ironed green hair said, “Are you in charge?”
“Yes. I’m sorry for the—”
“What happened to Dusty Dreams? We came here for Dustin.”
Her friends whined in agreement. “We want Dusty Dreams,” a tall, thin boy said, pointing to his T-shirt bearing the band’s name. Dusty Dreams had groupies?
“We had some creative differences with Dustin,” Bailey said.
“Dustin is a genius,” the girl declared. “He’s just biding his time until they hit it big.”
