Nice Until Proven Naughty

“Garrett. Sorry, I’ll get it right next time.”

He’s the youngest of the group and waves me off with a smile.

“Yay!” Maryanne does a little happy dance. “They’re your Christmas crew, here to help you with the party and the fundraiser, and they’ll also make up your caroling crew.”

“Caroling crew?”

“Yes, dear,” Sarah, the older woman with silver hair, says. “We’ll carol every night starting tomorrow. The goal is to hit every house in the town before the Christmas party.”

“And when is the Christmas party again?”

“Christmas Eve,” she answers.

“And we have to hit every house?

She nods.

“Do you do this every year?”

The whole group nods.

“You’ve never come to my house before.” Although I do live on the outside of town. Maybe they don’t go out that far.

“Actually, we do,” Garrett says. “You’re never home.”

“Oh.” Well, shit.

“Okay, every house by Christmas Eve. Got it. Piece of cake. We’ve totally got this. Will I just stand back and watch? I’ll sort of be like the manager and offer water if you need it?”

“No, dear.” Sarah chuckles. “You’ll sing with us. In fact, since you’re taking over, you get the special privilege of dressing up as Santa and standing front and center.”

“Oh, I can’t sing. I actually suck at it. My sister told me once that I sound like a screeching owl.”

Maryanne places a hand on my arm. “No one cares if you can hold a tune. It’s the gesture they care about.”

“Right. Christmas spirit. Got it. What else do I need to know?”

Maryanne opens the manila folder in her hands. “This is everything. The theme for the Christmas party this year is Cocktails and Coattails. Big Boy Barbecue is catering, and your sister and Ben are donating all of the alcohol, as well as non-alcoholic beverages for the kids and two of their bartenders to manage the bar.”

“Wow, that’s really nice of them.”

Maryanne looks at me funny. “They do it every year.”

I can’t believe I didn’t know that.

“Anyway, it looks like the only thing left for you to take care of is the fundraiser. We’ve done bake sales the last three years, and it brings in a solid three to four thousand dollars.”

“Where does the money go?”

“To the local women’s shelter.”

I purse my lips and look through the papers in the folder. “Three to four thousand doesn’t seem like much.”

“It’s not, but every penny helps, and the shelter is always grateful.”

“I’m sure they are,” I say, the wheels in my head starting to spin. “But wouldn’t it be great if we could double or triple that amount?”

Maryanne looks skeptically at the rest of the group. “How would we do that?”