Free Menace in Christmas River (Christmas River 8) by Meg Muldoon

overbearing assistant, stopped walking down the main aisle of the culinary school’s bustling auditorium for a moment, and turned back to look at me. Her stringy blond hair moved as she gave my outfit a quick once over. Her eyes settled on my heavy, practical snow boots – the ones that protected my feet from the snow out in the parking lot when Daniel had dropped me off minutes earlier.
    “We’re in the process of getting a substitute make-up artist to set up in the alcove behind the stage,” Holly said, looking up and giving me a tight, forced smile. “The one we initially booked bailed on us because of the storm. But there’s going to be lots of photographers and camera crews here today, Ms. Peters. You’re very welcome to get your hair and makeup done if you’d like.”
    The way she said it made it clear that it was more of a requirement than an option.
    She cleared her throat.
    “And I’m sure we could find you another pair of shoes as well.”
    I tried not to take it too personally.
    “I think I’ll be okay,” I said, looking down at my outfit, which consisted of the aforementioned snow boots, a nice pair of dark jeans, a dark grey V-neck sweater, and a sparkly dark pink knit scarf that looked both festive and pretty – or so I had thought.
    “Are you sure?” she said. “There’s no harm in looking your best for the cameras.” 
    “No,” I said. “I’m fine. I put on mascara this morning. That’s about as fancy as I like to get.”
    Holly looked like she was about to argue her point some more, but when she realized that I’d made up my mind, she let out a short sigh, then wrote something down on the clipboard that she’d been clutching to her chest.
    “The judging starts at one o’clock, so please meet Ms. Van Dorn and the other judges on the stage at 12:30 sharp.”
    I nodded.
    “And when I say sharp, Ms. Peters, I mean 12:30 on the dot. We need to keep an exact schedule this year because Mr. Copperstone has to catch a flight to LA after this for an important meeting, and we can’t make him late.”
    I bit my lip and did my best not to roll my eyes right then and there.
    Given what he’d said to me the night before, I was sure that Cliff Copperstone couldn’t wait to get out of Christmas River.
    But I had a feeling that whether or not he’d actually be able to leave this afternoon would be up to Mother Nature.  
    Just then, Holly’s walkie-talkie, which was attached to her hip, rang out.
    “Holly, where are you?” the voice, which obviously belonged to Julie Van Dorn, cracked over the speaker.
    Holly’s expression tightened even more as she pulled the block of plastic from her belt and answered.
    “I’m on the floor with Cinnamon Peters, Ms. Van Dorn,” she said.
    “Well, I need you at the front doors,” she said. “And I need you right now .”
    I didn’t envy Holly one bit for working for someone like Julie Van Dorn.
    Because while Julie was all smiles to the world, behind the scenes, I had a sneaking suspicion that she was a different person altogether.
    “I’ll be right there, ma’am,” Holly said without missing a beat.
    She turned her attention back to me.
    “If you do reconsider the hair and makeup, Ms. Peters, the makeup artist will be—”
    “Behind the stage,” I said, finishing her sentence. “Thanks, but I’m still going to pass.”
    She smiled at me slightly then. A true smile, and I caught a glimmer of the real Holly then. Not the stressed-out assistant scurrying around at Julie Van Dorn’s bidding.
    “I’m sorry if I’ve been a little rude, Ms. Peters,” she said, letting out a short breath. “I just… we’re under a lot of stress with this event. And the weather conditions haven’t made it easy on us.”
    “I understand,” I said. “I imagine it’s hard to put one of these things on even when the weather does cooperate.”
    “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you,” she said. “An event like this is just…”
    She trailed off,