Free Let it Sew by Elizabeth Lynn Casey Page A

purse on the bottom
     shelf, her normal brisk efficiency emitting an air of irritation that, for once, didn’t
     seem to be aimed in Tori’s direction. Sure, the ice had more than thawed where her
     predecessor was concerned, but Dixie was Dixie and she tended to be irritated with
     just about everyone at some point or another.
    “I really thought Georgina would pull rank and put a stop to this woman’s shenanigans,
     but she didn’t. And I’m fit to be tied, Victoria. Fit. To. Be. Tied.”
    Pausing her hands atop the keyboard, Tori did her best to decipher the bubbling tirade
     but came up short. “Dixie, I’m sorry, I’m not following.”
    Dixie straightened up and grabbed hold of a nearby stack of returned books. Seconds
     later, they were sorted into piles based on their shelf position around the room.
     “That—that woman. That Maime Wellington. She’s hammered the first nail into the coffin
     that is about to hold Sweet Briar’s long-standing and long-celebrated Christmas traditions.”
    She pressed Save on the name card she was making for the festival’s visiting author
     and swiveled her stool around to face Dixie head on. “What are you talking about?”
    The irritation that had somehow escaped Tori during Dixie’s entrance was missing no
     more. Hands on hips, eyes narrowed, Dixie stared at her. “Are you going to sit there
     and tell me you didn’t notice the pink bows and the garland of silver stars inching
     down every single light pole from Town Hall to here?”
    “Pink bows and garland of silver stars?” Confused, Tori slipped off her stool and
     out from behind the confines of the information desk en route to the front door. “No,
     I drove this morning and I came in the back way . . .” Her words trailed off as she
     peered through the glass, the object of Dixie’s ire impossible to miss.
    “Before you stole my job, I used to come to work on the day before Thanksgiving with
     a sense of childlike anticipation. Because I knew the decorating fairies would have
     come while Sweet Briar was sleeping and transformed our beautiful little town into
     something
magical
. And then, after I was tossed to the curb by the library board, it came to hold even
     more importance for me. As a symbol of tradition and . . .
loyalty
.”
    Tori leaned her forehead against the cool glass in the hopes it would shield her eye
     roll as Dixie continued pontificating off to her right. “So today, I came to town,
     hoping things would be the way they’re supposed to be, and instead, I see
that
.”
    She followed the border of light poles as it surrounded the town square and searched
     for something, anything, that would soften the harsh reality of Dixie’s assertions.
    “I—I don’t think I’d call it pink exactly,” she offered. “I’d say it’s more of a dusty
     rose.”
    “Dusty rose . . . pink . . . what does it matter? Christmas is green and red. Vegas
     stages are pink and silver.”
    Realizing it wasn’t the time for playful quips, Tori resisted the urge to ask Dixie
     about her Vegas knowledge and instead said the only thing worthy of the occasion.
     “Wow.”
    “Wow is right,” Dixie countered by way of a huff. “Wow that Councilman Jordan could
     be so . . . so blind. Wow that Georgina would sit back and allow Margaret Louise’s
     committee to get hijacked away from her. Wow that this Maime person could be so self-absorbed.
     Wow that—never mind.” Spinning around, Dixie fast-stepped it back to the information
     desk, grabbing three of her sorted piles at one time. “I refuse to let that—that person
     rob this town of its Christmas spirit!”
    Leaving her bird’s-eye view, Tori returned to the information desk and grabbed the
     fourth stack of books. With a quick left and a right she found herself in the self-help
     section. “So what do you propose?” she asked the woman who was one aisle over.
    “That woman may be able to hornswoggle that buffoon she’s