A Fool's Gold Christmas (Fool's Gold #9.5)

The fire station was warm and brightly lit. The big trucks gleamed, and holiday music played over a hidden sound system. Charlie led the way to a massive kitchen with seating for maybe fifteen or twenty, long counters and a six-burner, restaurant-style stove. A big pot of coffee sat by the window, and there was an open box of donuts on the table.

Charlie poured them each a mug of coffee and handed her one, then settled right next to the box of donuts and grabbed a maple bar. As Evie watched, she took a bite and chewed.

Just like that, Evie thought, both impressed and horrified. Depending on the size of the donut, the maple bar would be anywhere from two hundred and fifty calories to over five hundred. Evie had learned shortly after puberty, she was destined to be pear-shaped, with every extra ounce going to her hips, thighs and butt. While the medical community might want her to believe that pear-shaped was perfectly healthy, more than one costume director had pointed out no one wanted to watch a ballerina with a big ass and jiggly thighs.

Evie gripped her coffee mug with both hands, averted her gaze from the box of donuts, whose contents had started to quietly call her name, and stared at Charlie.

“I wondered if I could talk to you about The Dance of the Winter King. Do you know about the production?”

“Sure,” Charlie said, dropping half the donut onto a napkin and reaching for her coffee. “It happens every year on Christmas Eve. It’s kind of a big deal.” She smiled, her blue eyes bright with humor. “That’s right. You’re working for Miss Monica now. Nervous about the big show?”

“You have no idea.” Evie knew the situation was complicated even more by the fact that, while Miss Monica was in charge of the studio, the business had recently been purchased by Charlie’s mother. Evie had left the new owner a message the previous night, bringing her up to date, but had yet to hear from her.

“Miss Monica ran off yesterday.” Evie quickly explained about the older woman’s flight with her gentleman friend. “I’ve never seen the dance, and there aren’t very many notes on the production. Miss Monica mentioned many of the sets need to be refurbished, and I don’t even know where they’re kept. I have sixty students who expect to dance in front of their families in six weeks and no idea what I’m doing. Worse, there aren’t any videos of the production in the studio. If Miss Monica had any, they’re in her house, and she’s on her way to Italy.”

She stopped and forced herself to inhale. The panic had returned and with it the need for sugar. She started to reach for a small, plain cake donut, then gave in to the inevitable and picked up a chocolate glazed. As her teeth sank into the sweet, light center, the world slowly righted itself.

Charlie ran her hands through her short hair and groaned. “I’m trying desperately not to imagine Miss Monica and her gentleman friend.”

Evie chewed and swallowed. “I know exactly what you mean. The terror helps me overcome that image.”

“I’ll bet.” Charlie reached for her coffee. “Okay, let me think. I’ve seen the dance every year I’ve been in town, but I can’t remember the details. So, start with your students. Their parents will have the production on video, right? You can watch them and figure out what’s going on.”

Evie sagged back in the chair and nodded. “You’re right. They’ll all have it filmed. That’s perfect. Thanks.”

Charlie stood and moved back toward the kitchen. She pulled open a drawer. When she returned to the table, she had a pad of paper and a pen.

“The sets are going to be in one of the warehouses on the edge of town. There should be a receipt for the monthly rent in the studio’s records. This is the guy who manages the warehouses.” She wrote down a name. “Tell him who you are, and he’ll let you in, even without a key. Then you can evaluate the sets. Let me know how much work there is and we’ll organize a work party.”

Evie blinked at her. “A what?”

“A work party. People come and help repair the sets. You’ll have to provide the materials, but they’ll give you all the labor you need.”

“I don’t understand. You mean there’s a group I can hire to fix the sets?” She wasn’t sure what the budget would be. Maybe her new boss would want to cancel the production completely.

Charlie sighed and patted her hand. “Not hire. People will help you with the sets for free. Because they want to.”

“Why?”

“Because this is Fool’s Gold and that’s what we do. Just pick a day and I’ll get the word out. Trust me, it will be fine.”

“Sure,” Evie murmured, even though she didn’t believe it for a second. Why would people she didn’t know show up to work on sets for her production? For free? “I don’t suppose these miracle workers can also alter costumes and do hair for the show?”