To be fair, her eagle eye came more through experience than through some miracle of heavenly gift-giving. A lifetime of staring up at the tree with joy and awe had taught her the weak electrical spots. With the ladder broken down and folded, Kate scooped up the handle, groaning with the effort. She’d definitely feel the strain in her muscles tomorrow, but it was all worth it for that one tiny light. If the tree brought joy and the holiday spirit to even one person, Kate’s mission would be accomplished. Christmas Eve was the night the crowds were the densest and most hopeful; Kate didn’t want even one thing to go wrong for them.

She started off for Town Hall to return the ladder. With its balcony level and classic architecture, the main ballroom was used as Scrooge’s house, but they used some of the anterooms and recreation rooms for storage and costume changes. Miss Carolyn followed behind.

“You’re my best worker, kid, but you’re stubborn as they come.”

“We make Christmas for people, Miss Carolyn. What we do is important, right down to the tiniest little light bulb.”

“You really love this, don’t you?”

“More than anything.”

Kate didn’t need to think about that for more than a second. Her entire life revolved around the festival. As far as she was concerned, Christmas was the best time of year. Not because of the presents or the food, though those were certainly part of it. To her, Christmas was the one time of year when everyone put aside their differences and sat together at the table of humanity. Hope lit the lamps and compassion played the music. Christmas wasn’t a holiday but a microcosm of the best of mankind, a reminder of what they could be if they only carried the spirit with them all year round.

It also made her excessively poetic.

“Well.” Miss Carolyn cleared her throat and pulled Kate away from the side door. “I need you to come with me.”

“Why?”

“We have a visitor from Woodward. And they’re waiting on us.”

The swinging of the heavy, oaken front doors of the town hall punctuated the ominous line. Heavy ladder still in tow, Kate stepped through the main marble atrium to see they were not entering some intimate meeting with their corporate overlords.

Judging from the sheer number of people present, the room looked more like an intervention than a meeting to discuss cost-cutting measures or whatever it was corporate decided to throw at them next.

Heads turned at the doors opening and a sea of worried, familiar faces turned to greet them. Mitch and Betsy Plinkett held hands and stared with distant eyes. Lindy Turnbull’s perfect skin wrinkled with concerned lines. Even little Bradley Lewisham, their Tiny Tim, gripped his prop cane until his knuckles went white. Costumes mingled with plain clothes, but one thing was consistent: fear.