“Hey, Miss Angie,” a guy untangled himself from a bunch of youth and landed at their table. “I’m in the running for Mr. Claus tonight. Think I have a chance?”
“We have counted your scores the same as all the other contestants. I have no favorites, John.”
“Awe, I know that. You’re about as unbiased a person as I’ve ever met.” He glanced at Trevor. “Who’s your friend?”
Angie smiled. Kids could be so nosy. “Mr. Dristoll is a tour bus guide. His group is staying at the Inn this week and will enjoy the festivities we’ve worked so hard to put in place. So be on your best behavior tonight.”
“You know me. The life of the party,” said John.
He rolled his eyes in self-mockery, for everyone knew John was the most serious and responsible student in Pineville, a future politician, and a high contender for Mr. Claus. But she’d not let the cat out of the bag just yet. There were two other judges arriving later.
“Good luck, tonight, young man,” said Trevor.
“Going to need it. Too many smarty’s competing in this town.” John waved and sauntered back to the group.
“He sounds like a sensible young lad. He gets my vote,” said Trevor.
“Sorry, the crowd does not vote. Three judges choose the winner.”
“Sounds rigged to me,” Trevor said.
When he grinned, Trevor’s entire face lit up, and Angie felt a flutter somewhere deep inside her being.
THE DANCE
At seven-o’clock, one hour before the crowning of the Claus couple, Angie’s cell phone buzzed. She looked at the caller ID, hoping it was not an emergency at the Inn. She groaned. It was worse. Mr. Sharks should be here by now. A call could only mean trouble for the two judges waiting patiently for his arrival.
“Hey, where are you?” Angie asked into the receiver. She listened for a moment then spoke. “You can’t be sick!” She swallowed the lump forming in her throat. “Of course, you can Mr. Sharks. I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”
A few minutes later Angie hung up the phone and faced the bystanders waiting for an update. “He’s sick. Been popping pills all day with hopes he’d get better, and now he’s not only sick but sleepy.”
Mrs. Hodgeson gasped. “Whatever shall we do at the last minute? Angie, surely you have a backup?”
Angie did not have a backup. No one had ever been a no-show in all the years she’d judged. Her face crumbled as she dropped hard onto the seat.
Trevor was still hanging around and spoke up. “There’s always me if you’re in a pinch. If you’ll recall, I already have my eyes set on a good pick.”
Angie looked at Trevor, hopeful, yet guilty, that a guest at her resort would feel the need to help. “Surely you’d rather just unwind and have fun?”
“I will, afterward, with you, hopefully. I don’t relish dancing with the bunch from my tour bus, and I don’t know anyone else,” said Trevor.
Angie peered at Mrs. Hodgeson, who stood by silently, a woman of good standing with the community despite her wagging tongue. “What do you think?”
“About him being a judge or dancing with you?”
Angie frowned and ignored her scrutiny. “Trevor doesn’t know the contestants. I could show him the score sheets we’ve worked up so far, give him a chance to get to know the qualifications of each contestant. You must admit he will be a fair judge.”
“He’s better than picking from the vultures out there with their own agenda of who the winner should be.”
Angie smothered a laugh. “You make it sound like people tar and feather the judges at the end of the event.” She turned her attention back to Trevor. “You needn’t fret about that outcome. Although it is important to reward the right couple, the townsfolk are fairly obliging with our final decision.”
“After the heckling stops by the sore losers.” Mrs. Hodgeson aimed her focus at Trevor then all too soon lost her attempt at the pun and grinned. “Had you worried, didn’t I, laddie?”
Angie looked at Trevor and saw a face devoid of anxiety. “I don’t think you scared him off, Mrs. Hodgeson. He looks like the perfect judge to me.” Angie rummaged in her bag and withdrew a small binder. After passing it to Trevor, she nodded to the door. “Follow me.”
When they arrived outside the public bathrooms, Angie handed him a small sack out of her bag. He grimaced when he peeked inside. “You look far too classy. Not Christmassy enough for this crowd.”
“I will dress up, not because I particularly want to, but to make you happy,” Trevor said.
“I appreciate your willingness, but I hope you don’t make a practice of doing things to simply please others. It is far nobler to speak your mind.”
“I don’t think you want to know my mind. Tonight, I’m choosing to have fun in your company, and not think past that.”
Angie wasn’t sure she liked that attitude any better. What did it matter? He was here for a week and gone again. She was ready for some fun. It had been far too long since she’d kicked her heels up at a dance hall.
“Agreed,” Angie said. “Meet you back at the judge’s table. Scan the score sheets while you accessorize.” She pushed the women’s door open and disappeared inside.
Trevor was hilarious with the judging. His comments to the crowd were witty and festive, while at the same time, passing encouragement on to the contestants. Angie could not help but notice the gradual change in his mindset as the event progressed. Trevor was warming up to the teens of Pineville, and they in turn, accepted the
