Her Christmas Hero. Lorraine Beatty

questions and assuring people that her weekend events could be accomplished with cooperation, minimum of cost and plenty of professional help. As she concluded the meeting she sensed excitement in the air. A swell of joy filled her throat. The owners were in agreement that pumping up the holiday events was vital to recuperating some of the sales lost when the Southways plant closed down last year and tossed over a hundred people out of work.

      Several owners stopped by to express their delight in the events and pledge their support. Now it was up to her to make the necessary arrangements and coordinate all the bits and pieces.

      “What happened to the Christmas parade?”

      Gemma started at the sound of the deep voice. Linc’s voice. It was hard to ignore once you’d heard it. Rich and smooth, it flowed along her nerves like warm honey. She looked into his blue eyes and suddenly found it difficult to swallow. “What are you doing here?”

      “I’ve been in the back, listening to your pitch.”

      His intense navy blue eyes zeroed in on her, making her forget his question. “The parade?”

      “It’s a tradition. Has been since I was a kid. We all looked forward to it each year. There’s going to be a lot of kids disappointed if it’s canceled.”

      Linc’s tone suggested that she should reinstate it at once. But she knew what he didn’t. “I doubt that. According to the reports I have the parade has shrunk in size over the last five years, and attendance has fallen to a trickle.” She tapped an app on her cell and swiped to the right page. “Last year there were only three floats, a fire truck and the Santa float. One police officer was assigned for crowd control and the parade lasted barely fifteen minutes.” She smiled up at Linc. “Is that the tradition you’re referring to?” A muscle in Linc’s jaw flexed.

      “I know you’re new here and you’re not familiar with our Christmas traditions. But we cherish our celebrations. We like the way it’s been done in the past. It works for us.”

      She raised her chin and planted a hand on her hip. “Actually, it doesn’t work. Business has fallen sharply over the past three years. When Southways closed it got worse. The Chamber has hired me to turn things around by making Christmas in Dover more appealing to people who will spend money in the stores and restaurants.”

      Linc crossed his arms and looked down his nose. “Surely you can come up with a compromise that will preserve our traditions and still attract tourists.”

      “Like a parade?”

      “Yes. My mother was in charge of that for years and everyone loved it.”

      “Are you aware that there are six holiday parades around the area? Several in Jackson and the suburbs that are much larger and draw the bulk of the crowds. You have to give people more reason to come to Dover than just a puny parade.”

      “What if we don’t want more people in Dover?”

      “You’re a businessman—is that what you really want?”

      “What I want is to keep our cherished traditions intact.”

      “Traditions are habits with no meaning. Most people don’t even know why or how they got started.”

      “You’re wrong. They are important rituals that remind us of our past, of our roots and our history.”

      Gemma crossed her arms over her chest. “Really? Then, why does the courthouse put up a red star on the dome every year?” She almost laughed at the stunned look on Linc’s face. He clearly had no answer for her. “It was donated to the city in 1972 to honor longtime mayor Louis Carswell. Is that part of the history you cherish?”

      She scooped up her satchel and headed for the door, eager to make her escape while Linc was still stunned. He quickly caught up with her.

      “You’re deliberately twisting things.”

      She stopped and faced him. “No. I’m pointing out the flaw in your reasoning. Tradition is useless sentiment. Comfort food for the brain. I’m here to create events that will bring joy and happiness to people, to let them have fun and experience Christmas to the fullest.”

      “Are you talking about the commercial Christmas or the real one?

      “Both.”

      “Not possible.”

      “Of course it is. If your heart is in the right place. Good night, Linc.”

      Gemma walked to her car with a smile on her face. She was actually coming to enjoy these little skirmishes with Linc. It might be fun toppling some of that arrogance. What he didn’t realize was that every time he challenged her it only made her more determined to make the Dover Christmas celebrations the biggest and flashiest she possibly could.

       Take that, Mr. Linc.