Chapter 2: “The Grinch with a Camera”
1235 Words
The first thing Claire noticed as she descended the staircase was the chaos. Abby was sitting cross legged in the middle of the lobby, surrounded by a mountain of glittery crafts. A trail of pine needles and tinsel stretched from the front door to the reception desk, and Emily stood at the counter, looking like she hadn’t slept in a week.
“I swear, if one more thing goes wrong...” Emily muttered, slamming down a stack of papers.
Claire cleared her throat, her lips twitching with a smirk. “Good morning to you, too .”
Emily glanced up and scowled. “Great. You’re finally up. While you were sleeping in, I’ve been cleaning up after Abby’s art explosion, dealing with a double booked room, and trying to fix the parade lineup .”
Claire took a slow sip of her coffee. “Sounds like a you problem .”
Emily narrowed her eyes. “Funny. It’s about to become a you problem ."
Claire groaned, setting her mug on the counter. “What now?”
“The festival, obviously,” Emily snapped. “Adrian’s gone, and unless you plan on pulling an entire committee out of your camera bag, I need you to step up .”
“I already agreed to help. You don’t have to guilt trip me into it,” Claire replied, brushing a stray piece of tinsel off the counter.
“Oh, I’m just getting started,” Emily said with a tight smile.
Before Claire could respond, Abby popped up beside her, holding a snowflake made of popsicle sticks. “Aunt Claire! Look what I made!”
Claire crouched down to examine it. “Wow, that’s... very sparkly .”
“Mom says it’s too much glitter, but she’s wrong,” Abby declared.
Claire glanced at Emily, who rolled her eyes. “Of course, she is,” Claire said with a grin. “You should make one for the tree in the town square .”
Abby gasped. “Can I? Mom, can I?”
“Sure,” Emily said distractedly, flipping through her clipboard.
Claire ruffled Abby’s hair before straightening up. “Alright, what’s first on the agenda?”
Emily thrust the clipboard at her. “Fix the parade floats. Half of them don’t have drivers, and the other half are missing decorations. Have fun ."
By mid morning, Claire found herself standing in the middle of Misty Hollow’s town square, staring at the parade floats with a mix of amusement and horror.
The first float, an oversized gingerbread house, was missing its roof. The second, a sleigh pulled by cardboard reindeer, looked like it had been attacked by a pack of wolves.
“This is... fine. Totally fine,” Claire muttered, jotting notes on a notepad.
A voice behind her said, “Need some help?”
She turned to find Sophie, the inn’s cook and unofficial town gossip, holding a tray of cookies.
“Please tell me those are laced with patience,” Claire said, eyeing the tray.
Sophie laughed. “Sorry, just sugar and chocolate chips. But you look like you could use a pick-me-up.”
Claire grabbed a cookie and took a bite. “It’s worse than I thought. Half the drivers canceled, and I think the reindeer float is actually a health hazard .”
“You should ask Adrian for help,” Sophie suggested.
Claire nearly choked on her cookie. “Adrian? Are you serious?”
“He’s good with logistics,” Sophie said with a shrug. “And he’s got a soft spot for the festival .”
“Hard pass,” Claire said. “I don’t need help from Mr. Smug and Perfect.”
Sophie raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. Instead, she handed Claire another cookie and walked off, humming a Christmas carol.
Claire spent the next hour supervising volunteers as they worked on the floats. Things were finally starting to come together until someone decided to test the gingerbread house float’s candles.
Within seconds, the tissue paper roof caught fire.
“Put it out! Put it out!” Claire yelled, grabbing a bucket of snow.
A group of volunteers scrambled to douse the flames, and by the time the fire was out, the float was a soggy, charred mess.
Claire stared at the wreckage, her eye twitching. “Who thought real candles were a good idea?”
One of the volunteers raised his hand sheepishly. “It was supposed to be authentic .”
Claire groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Okay, new rule: No open flames. Ever .”
As Claire surveyed the damage, she heard a familiar voice behind her.
“Looks like you’re having a great day .”
She turned to find Adrian leaning against a lamppost, his arms crossed and a smug grin on his face.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded.
“Just passing through,” Adrian said. “Thought I’d check on the festival’s new manager.”
Claire narrowed her eyes. “I’ve got it under control.”
“Really? Because it looks like your gingerbread house just went through a war zone.”
“Thanks for the observation, Captain Obvious,” Claire snapped.
Adrian chuckled, stepping closer. “Need a hand?”
“No,” Claire said firmly.
“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. “But for the record, I told them last year that candles were a bad idea.”
Claire glared at him. “Why are you even here? Don’t you have something better to do?”
“Not really,” Adrian admitted. “But watching you try to run this festival is pretty entertaining.”
“Do you enjoy being this annoying, or does it just come naturally?” Claire asked.
“A little of both,” he replied with a grin.
That evening, Claire returned to the inn, exhausted and mildly defeated. She found Abby sitting by the fireplace, carefully placing her popsicle stick snowflake on a stack of others.
“Hey, kiddo,” Claire said, flopping onto the couch beside her.
Abby looked up, her eyes wide with excitement. “Aunt Claire, guess what?”
“What?”
“I made a wish today,” Abby said, holding up a glittery snowflake.
“Let me guess you wished for more glitter?” Claire teased.
“Nope. I wished for everyone to be happy,” Abby said.
Claire’s smile faltered. “That’s... a big wish.”
“I think it’ll come true,” Abby said confidently. “Mom says Christmas is the time for magic.”
Claire ruffled her hair. “Your mom’s right.”
Abby grinned and went back to arranging her snowflakes, leaving Claire to stare into the fire, lost in thought.
Later that night, Claire sat at her desk, flipping through the photos she’d taken during the day. Most of them were disasters the charred gingerbread float, volunteers slipping on ice, and Sophie chasing a runaway dog.
But one photo caught her attention. It was a candid shot of Adrian, his expression serious as he adjusted a piece of the sleigh float.
She frowned, leaning closer. She hated to admit it, but Sophie was right there was something about him she couldn’t quite figure out.
With a sigh, she closed her laptop and climbed into bed, determined to tackle the festival with or without Adrian’s help.
- Writer
