Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 320(@200wpm)___ 256(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
I’m not even “grumpy.”
I’m simply focused, determined to help Holly recover from the damage caused by this woman who couldn’t follow directions.
“All right,” I say, raising my voice to be heard over the roar of a Christmas carol cranked up to eardrum-rupturing levels. “Regrouping plan: Marge, you’re off icing. You’re now in charge of confectionery distribution.”
She blinks. “What’s that?”
“Timmy will tell you what he needs when it comes to gumdrops, peppermints, etcetera,” I clarify, “and you will organize and supply it. Understood?”
Marge shrinks a little. “Oh, well, yes. All right. I’d like to help more, but…”
I’m about to say that she’s “helped” enough when Holly catches my eye with a pleading expression. Forcing patience into my tone, I add, “You’ll be a huge help. Timmy won’t be able to start on the front until we’ve finished the reassembly. He’ll have to move very quickly. You’ll be instrumental in facilitating his vision as swiftly as possible.”
“I can do that,” she says, brightening. “And Timmy and I are great at teamwork, aren’t we, honey?”
Timmy nods indulgently, his kindness in the face of his grandmother’s bumbling admirable in a boy so young.
I turn to him with an approving smile. “Sounds like a plan. Why don’t you two huddle at the end of the table and stage the candy for installation there?” I lower my voice as I add, “But wash your hands first. Just in case someone decides they want a bite of your masterpiece, we want to be sure it’s as germ-free as possible.”
The boy nods and scurries off, looking pleased by the new direction.
“Paulie,” I continue, turning to the baker who’s still glaring over at what I assume is the competition. “How fast can you get that front wall back up?”
He forces his attention my way. “With a steady supply of the good icing? Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen.” His blue eyes slit toward Marge. “Assuming no one interferes when my back is turned.”
Marge scoots farther down the table, chin tucked to her chest as she sorts gumdrops by color.
“I think we’ll be fine on that,” I murmur, nodding toward the structure. “If you’ll get to work on that, I’ll help Holly with the icing and…” I turn to her. “And what else?”
“If you’d start cutting two-inch by half-inch strips for the shutters, that would be fantastic.” Her warm, affectionate smile makes my chest feel tight.
But it’s a good tight, the kind I haven’t felt in far too long.
“I have an extra paring knife in my supply bag,” she adds, starting toward her icing station.
I nod. “All right. Let’s get to work.”
Silence settles over our table as we lock in our assigned tasks. Paulie has the main floor walls restored in just a few minutes, and Holly moves in, securing the joints with icing. Once I’ve finished cutting the shutters, I follow with a second batch of the homemade vanilla mixture, applying a thin coat to the cracked cookies with a pastry brush. Soon, Paulie’s moved on to mending the second floor while Holly and I attach the shutters around the windows.
“A little higher on the left corner,” she murmurs, nudging the cookie in my hand up with her tube of piping.
I shift it.
“Now a little lower,” she says. “Split the difference.” I do, and she breathes, “Perfect.”
And it is perfect.
She’s perfect. Now that Gingerbread Storm Marge has been contained, Holly guides the ship with the skill of a Navy Captain and a charismatic Cruise Ship Director combined. She keeps everyone on task and making steady progress, while cracking jokes and offering words of encouragement. She lifts the mood, inspires the troops, and draws us all into the tractor beam of her infectious energy.
She’s not just your average town sweetheart.
She’s a force of nature, of creation, of hope and light, and I instantly decide I need to hire a “Holly” to elevate the culture at Ratcliffe Global. We’ve always been focused, professional, and effective, but how much more effective would we be if there were someone like Holly around, inspiring hope and leading with joy?
But, of course, there’s no one exactly like Holly.
She really is one of a kind…
Soon, Paulie is singing along with the music, changing the lyrics to personal attacks on the mayor that have all of us laughing, and Timmy is twitching with happy excitement as he enacts his decorative vision for the front porch. Even Marge is beaming with pride as she globs store-bought icing over the landscape surrounding the structure.
“You know,” Holly murmurs, as she works in behind me, adding chocolate shingles to the roof as I fix the cookie slats into place, “when I woke up this morning, ‘gingerbread disaster recovery with a guy who hates Christmas’ wasn’t on my bingo card.”
“Your bingo card has very specific squares.” I shrug as I slot the last piece of roof onto the tower room. “And I don’t hate Christmas.”