Santa's Sweetheart (The Christmas Tree Ranch #4)(19)

The mayor called the meeting to order. As his wife stood up and began to read the minutes from last month’s early-planning meeting, Maggie returned to her book and soon became lost in the story of mischievous Ramona and her big sister, Beezus.

Time passed, broken by a pause to eat the second doughnut Maggie’s dad passed her. She managed to ignore most of the meeting until the indignant voice of Buffy Burton, the gym teacher, roused her from her book.

“So, we’ve just spent the past hour deciding to do what we’ve always done—same food, same decorations, same old music. Let me tell you what my students think. Most of them don’t even want to go to the party. They say it’s boring. Why can’t we do something different?”

Maggie had stopped reading. This could be interesting.

“You’re suggesting this now?” Alice Wilkins demanded. “The party’s on the twenty-first, less than three weeks away. Everything’s arranged. The food assignments have been made, the tree for the gym’s been ordered, and we certainly can’t buy new decorations. I’m all for making the party less boring as you say. But we don’t have the time or the budget for—”

“Wait!” Maggie shot to her feet, waving her hand. The idea that had just popped into her head was so exciting that she couldn’t keep still.

“Well, Maggie,” the mayor said. “Since when did you become part of this meeting?”

“Permission to speak, Mr. Chairman.” She remembered her parliamentary procedure. Several people at the table smiled, including her father and Miss Chapman.

“All right, Maggie, you have the floor,” the mayor said. “But only for five minutes. We need to move on.”

“I have an idea for the party,” she said. “We could have a dance after we eat. People could dress up, in nice clothes, or even costumes, like at a ball. We could move the tables and play dance records, and it wouldn’t cost anything extra at all.”

As she paused, looking anxiously around for reactions, Lois Harper’s hand shot up. “I think that’s a great idea! I read about something like that over in Anson. They’ve been doing it for years. It’s called the Cowboys’ Christmas Ball! They dress up in fancy western clothes and have a live band. I read that one year, they even had Michael Martin Murphy there to entertain.”

“We couldn’t do all that,” the mayor’s wife said. “Especially not with a live band.”

“We wouldn’t have to do all that,” Buffy said. “Just add a few fun things to the party we’ve already planned, like western clothes for folks who wanted to dress up, and line dancing—I could teach my students and they could teach anybody who doesn’t know how. I think it’s a great idea.”

“But what about the kids?” Doris Cullimore asked. “You can’t have a dance with little ones running around unsupervised.”

Miss Chapman spoke up. “We could have an activity room with games and crafts and videos. Maybe people who don’t care to dance could volunteer to help—or maybe they could take turns.”

A few people at the table nodded. Maggie felt a quiver of excitement. Her idea was actually catching on.

Buffy, the gym teacher, raised her hand. “I move that we accept Maggie’s suggestion and turn the Christmas party into Branding Iron’s own Cowboys’ Christmas Ball.”

“Seconded!” said Lois, the beautician.

The mayor frowned. “It’s been moved and seconded. . . all in favor . . .”

The motion carried all votes except one. Alice, the mayor’s wife, argued that the change was too drastic. “What’s wrong with the way we’ve always done it?” she demanded. But the motion had already carried.

Big Sam turned and smiled at his daughter. Maggie glowed inside. She could tell he was proud of her.

“Well.” The mayor hadn’t voted, but he’d clearly sided with his wife. “Since we have a new plan, that’s going to mean extra meetings and new responsibilities. Miss Burton, would you be willing to choose the music for the dance and set it up to be played?”

Buffy smiled and nodded. “I’ll get my students to help me choose. Don’t worry, it’ll be good old country, not teenage rock. I’ll even make sure they know the dances and can teach them to others.”

“Fine,” said the mayor. “Lois, could you handle publicity—maybe put up some posters, call the radio station, and spread the word in your beauty shop?”

“It’s a beauty salon, not a shop,” said Lois. “But sure, I can do it. My daughter can make posters. She’s a good little artist if I say so myself.”

“Fine, we can check that off. Walt, you’re already in charge of setting up the chairs and tables and putting them away. Can you also make sure the dance floor is cleared after the meal?”

“No problem,” said Walt Cullimore, the feed and hardware store owner.

“Now.” The mayor’s gaze narrowed on Miss Chapman, who suddenly looked as if she wanted to shrink under the table. “Since you’re a teacher, and since you made the suggestion, you’re just the one to be in charge of the kids’ activity room, right?”

“Uh—right. I’m going to need help.”

“You should have no trouble finding some,” the mayor said dismissively, as if to say no help would be coming from him.