a slogan. He didn’t want to be the kind of guy whose civic agenda could fit on a bumper sticker.
“There are lots of ways to stand out in the world that doesn’t cause so much trouble.” Gil folded his arms across his chest. “You’ve hashed this out? Seriously?”
By “hashing something out,” Gil meant praying over it. Seriously. Gil Sorrent took his job and his faith very seriously. It’s what had made him able to withstand the tremendous pressures and setbacks of the criminal rehabilitation farm he ran. It’s what made him the kind of man who didn’t mince words and never let down his friends. “Yes,” Mac replied, and he had. He’d felt like he’d wrestled forever with this decision to run. His ability to shake things up had led him down a few wrong turns over the years, and this seemed like a chance to finally channel that “talent” into something useful. To make his mark on the world before he slid into the bland predictability of…gasp…middle age. Shaking up was a far better choice than settling down, and this was a perfect opportunity to shake up for the good of Middleburg.
Gil took his answer at face value. Their friendship had lasted long enough to put sugarcoating or lying out of the question. “And you’re sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
Gil sat back in the hay. “Well, you’ve actually got the personality to pull it off. Mostly. Emily’ll burst out laughing the first time she has to say ‘Your Honor’—I’m glad I don’t have to.” Emily and Gil had been on the city council before they’d married, and Gil had been the one to step down because spouses couldn’t both remain in office.
“Maybe my first official duty will be to change that silly protocol.” Mac gave his friend a nudge. “It might be worth it just to hear you say “Your Honor’ to me. Who knew I’d have to run for office to get any respect from you?”
Gil stretched a foot out in front of him. “I haven’t said I’d vote for you yet. Howard’s a bit hard to take sometimes, but he does a halfway decent job.”
“You complain about Howard all the time. We spent half your time on the council fighting Howard.”
“That’s just it. When you’re mayor, who will I have to complain to?”
“Maybe you won’t have to complain at all. Have you considered that possibility?”
Gil grinned. “Not in the slightest.”
Mary waved back at yet another person as she made her way up Ballad Road toward her apartment, half spooked and half amazed by how quickly she’d come to feel at home. So many people believed in God here. And not just the Sunday kind of belief. These were day-in, day-out believers. It was the perfect place for her to grow her shaky new faith.
Almost from the time she had committed her life to Christ, Chicago had begun to vex her. Her earlier jobs—however enviable—felt hollow and unsatisfying. Her own parents had trouble understanding how anyone could leave an orchestral position and freelance ad agency work to lead a Christmas drama, but it was just too hard to be a new Christian in her other world. That verse about “rather be a gatekeeper in the house of my God” kept running through her head. A fresh, humble start felt so much easier.
She stopped at the window of an adorable shop called West of Paris. A charming blue glass vase caught her eye. A housewarming gift for myself, she thought, picturing it with a few sprigs of holly on her tiny dining room table. She couldn’t pull off a decorated tree this Christmas, even if her mom and dad came as planned, but the vase seemed just enough of a luxury to suit her mood. As she entered, a wave of wonderful scents and music-box Christmas carols washed over her.
“Merry Christmas,” greeted the woman behind the counter. “I’m Emily Sorrent, we met at church. You’re Mary, right?”
Mary was still adjusting to strangers calling her by name. “That’s me.”
“Must be hard to be in such a new place for the holidays. Away from home and family and all. Are you settling in okay?”
Mary imagined such a new start might be a challenge around Christmas—for other people. For her, it was the best present of all. “Just fine. It’s so peaceful here.”
Emily smiled. “Peaceful? Are you sure you’re in Middleburg? I haven’t seen our little town so worked up in years. No, Ma’am, ‘peaceful’ is not a word I’d use to describe Middleburg these days.”
“That’s okay. People used to think the big city orchestra where I worked was glamorous, but I wouldn’t ever describe it that way, either.”
Emily got a funny look on her face and turned away for a moment under the guise of arranging some holiday ornaments. Mary couldn’t figure out what she’d said wrong. Maybe being new in town wasn’t all fresh starts and clean slates. “I saw that blue vase in the window,” she offered, changing the subject. “I think it would be perfect for my dining-room table.”
“It’s made by an artisan in Berea,” Emily described, brightening. “That color is his trademark. Look, here’s an ornament he made in the same style.” She held out a brilliant blue sphere with a sparkling gold center. “For your tree.”
“Oh,” Mary interjected, brushing her off. “I don’t think I’ll get a tree up this year.”
Emily looked surprised. “No Christmas tree? You can’t be serious?”
Mary took in the store, and realized there must be six fully decorated trees in Emily’s shop alone. The woman took her holiday decorating very seriously. Even for a retailer.
“There’s just me. I’d never be able to lug a tree up all the stairs to my apartment, and I own about three ornaments, besides. Christmas was my busy season in past years, and I never really had time to do all the trimmings. I’ll just take the vase, thanks.”
Emily crossed her arms over her chest. “No, you won’t.”
“What?”
“I don’t know where you came from, but if you’ve never had a real Christmas, Mary Thorpe, it’s high time you got one. And I am going to start you off. You can buy the vase, but it just so happens I’m running a special today. Every vase purchase comes with a free Christmas ornament. And I happen to know a whole bunch of big burly guys who will gladly lug your tree anywhere you want it. MCC’s new drama director will not be too busy to have her own Christmas if I have anything to say about it. And I’m on the church board and the town council, so you can bet I have something to say about it.”
Mary could only smile. “Okay, I’ll think about it.” She’d just effectively been commanded to have a happy holiday, and she couldn’t be more pleased. She took the ornament and spun it in the sunlight, enjoying the blue and gold beams it cast around the room. “Dinah warned me about you.”
Emily winked. “Oh, honey, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Chapter Three
Curly was singing.
This was a bit hard to take, especially because the bird insisted on singing the same piece of music he’d learned from Mary Thorpe’s stereo earlier. Even an extra dose of sunflower seeds had failed to quiet the cockatoo. Mac looked up from the drafting table a third time, then let his forehead fall into his hand. “Enough,
