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I hoped my outdoor extension cord was long enough. I also hoped I had time to sneak away to find an outlet before I had to get on stage. And, most of all, I hoped that Cass was somewhere in the crowd and would appreciate my grand romantic gesture.
“Fran!” Bill Fischer exclaimed, appearing out of nowhere like a tinsel-bedecked nightmare. “Santa will be here any minute to join you, so let’s get you ready to get up on stage!”
“Yes!” I said, a sudden spark of panic flashing through me. I waved to Mom and the girls and Jake, and Katya and Dr. Stephen Florris, and let Bill lead me around the carolers to the side of the stage.
“Right then! Santa will be arriving on his sleigh shortly, and he’ll meet you on stage and you’ll hit the button for the Light Lighting together. Maybe you can give us a little tap dance?”
“Oh, I wouldloveto,” I lied, “but I left my shoes at home.” I edged closer to the Christmas tree. “So I’ll just hang out here until Santa arrives?”
Bill nodded happily.
“Excellent!” I gave him two thumbs up. “Understood!”
Bill dashed off to do some other important pre-Santa-arrival checks, or whatever, and I scurried around to the back of the stage, and the Christmas tree. There were eleventy-million different outdoor power boards at the base of the tree, so at least plugging Ruth in would be easy enough. Getting her on the tree though...
I ducked under the lowest branches, still hidden from view by the stage. It had probably been twenty years since I’d climbed a tree, but how difficult could it be? I didn’t need to gettoohigh. Maybe ten feet? Ten feet didn’t seem like a lot—especially not once I saw, neatly tucked away behind the stage, a ladder.
Well, if that wasn’t a sign that the universe wanted me to put Ruth the chicken on Christmas Valley’s official Christmas tree, I didn’t know what it was. I dragged the ladder out and stood it up, then made sure the little hinge-things were properly straight. I set my bag on the ground, grabbed Ruth and plugged her into the extension cord, and then the cord into the power strip. Then, with Ruth tucked under my arm like a football, I began to climb the ladder.
Cass was going to love this. God, I hoped he would. I hoped it would remind him of what it was like when we were young and stupid, and so very, very in love with each other. Or last week when we’d been old and stupid, and dancing around what might be lingering feelings for one another. But mostly I wanted to make him laugh, because I loved his laugh.
I had about three rungs to clear before the stage no longer hid me from view—but at that moment I heard the jingle of sleigh bells and a crackling “Ho! Ho! Ho!” over the speakers. Santa’s arrival would distract the crowd for at least a few more seconds. And I was almost there! I scurried up the ladder like a squirrel going hell for leather up a bird feeder, with Ruth the chicken flashing like a disco in my armpit.
“Ho! Ho! Hwat?” Santa boomed from somewhere behind me.
Busted.
I looked over my shoulder. Santa was on his sleigh, making his way down the middle of the road toward me. Some people had definitely noticed my unauthorized tree decorating and were craning their necks to see. Bill Fischer climbed up on the stage and hurried in my direction, eyes no longer twinkling. It turned out that despite all my childhood fantasies, I would never make it as a spy.
“Fran, what are you doing?”
“Hi, Bill!” I reached out for a nice solid looking branch, where Ruth would look magnificent. “I just need to get this chicken out onto this branch right here and—”
And that was when the ladder toppled over, sending me crashing onto the stage.
If I didn’t have everyone’s attention before, I certainly had it now. People gasped and cried out. Even the carolers were shocked into silence.
“Ow,” I said when I found myself unexpectedly on my back for the second time tonight. And then, when Ruth the chicken landed on my head: “Fuck.”
“Fran!” Bill exclaimed. “Are you alright?”
“I amfine,” I said, but the moment I tried to put any weight on my right foot, I realized that I was, as always, a dirty fucking liar.
I think I even blacked out for a second there, and when I came to, there was a guy kneeling beside me, his handsome, familiar face screwed up with concern, his hand clutching mine.
“Fran!”
I blinked to clear my vision, but no, he was still there, and he wasnotCass. “Ben?”
ChapterEleven
There was really no such thing as a quick trip to the emergency room. Always a lot of sitting around and waiting involved. I would have had plenty of time to reflect on the actions that had led me here, except that all of my bandwidth—considerably narrowed by painkillers—was used up on Ben. Because Ben was here. Here in Christmas Valley. Here in the hospital.
“I have no idea what’s going on.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. It didn’t help.
Dr. Stephen Florris had taken one look at my ankle and told me I needed to go to the hospital. Katya had volunteered to drive me, but Ben had announced that he would do it. And Mom and Jake had taken the girls home.
“You fell out of a Christmas tree, Fran.” Ben’s handsome brow was creased with worry. Huh. I couldn’t actually remember the last time I’d looked at his face without wanting to punch it. “Did they... How many fingers am I holding up?”
