Sara: *eyeroll* I knew you would be. That’s why I gave you a fake time. Dinner won’t be ready for another half hour.

Noah: You’re diabolical.

She responded with a Dr. Evil GIF that had Noah rolling his eyes. At least he had time for his customary evening coffee now. He locked the door to his office and hustled down the stairs. Merry and Bright was a cozy bakery and café that specialized in year-round Christmas desserts and good coffee. Usually he stopped at Reggie’s for his first morning caffeine fix and Merry and Bright in the evenings on his way home.

Noah headed north. The chill in the air was edging toward frosty. Halloween was two days away, and he’d already canceled trick or treat night and the parade. He had a disappointed town on his hands, but there was no way they’d be able to clean up enough of the mess to clear the parade route, let alone let kids tromp around through half-frozen mud in super hero masks.

No. Halloween was one holiday Merry would have to give up this year. Most likely it wouldn’t be the only one. Noah hated to think of his town without Christmas, but it was becoming clear that the money and hands they needed for a miracle weren’t going to come fast enough.

He zipped his fleece against the night chill and raised a hand at the couple that greeted him from their front porch. This side of town had been spared, thankfully. And they’d been more than willing to make room for their less lucky neighbors in guest rooms and living rooms.

He sighed, his breath coming out in a silvery cloud. He loved this town. He hated being the bearer of bad news, but they needed to know sooner rather than later that there would be no Christmas Festival this year.

The glow of the café warmed him with a Pavlovian-like response. The smell of fresh cookies and hot coffee greeted Noah as he pushed open the door that always grinded out the first few chords of Jingle Bells.

“Evenin’, Noah. You’re running late,” Freddy Fawkes, the café’s co-owner greeted him from behind the register. Freddy bore an uncanny resemblance to the lean, ruddy-cheeked Santa Claus that he did his best to maintain. He and his wife, Freida, claimed that the secret to their twenty-seven-year marriage and business partnership was that Freida came in to bake and open the shop by six every morning, and Freddy took over after lunch and worked until closing.

“Long day,” Noah said, scanning the display case. “Can I get two dozen pecan rolls to go and a coffee?”

Freddy’s wintery white eyebrows rose. “You must have quite the crowd over there.”

Noah gave the man a tired smile. “I’m happy we have the room to offer.”