Page 24 of Mistletoe and Molly
News of the photo shoot would have been all over town in five minutes if anyone had. The process was interesting, even if the model wasn’t the most pleasant person on earth. But Mara waited patiently enough while her hair was fussed over one last time. A crew member turned on a fan and tilted it up to keep her cool under the lights and lift her hair a little. Mara, looking professional but bored, struck a few poses in front of the shelves while Harry kneeled in front of her, taking pictures one after another.
Gil gave directions and Mara followed them. Bridget took a doughnut out of the paper bag and munched on it while she watched. She would have sworn that the model’s eyes lit up at the sight.
“Great,” Gil said with satisfaction. “We want that sparkle. Keep going.”
More handknits were featured in the ensuing shots, to Bridget’s happiness. She wondered if there was a way to get the artisans who’d made them featured in the article too. She grabbed a pad of paper and a pencil, and noted down the names as the different articles of clothing were donned by Mara, aided by the stylist.
“Okay, let’s break for lunch,” Gil said at last. He disappeared to the back of the store while the crew got busy with the equipment. Mara yanked off the last of the hand-knits, revealing the tiny tank top she’d been wearing under all of them. She handed the sweater to the stylist and scratched her arms blissfully.
Bridget softened. Mara must be allergic to wool. And she had to be starving. The thin cotton of the tank top showed her ribs.
“Don’t scratch your arms,” the stylist whispered. “What if you have to wear a sleeveless top?”
“Not likely,” Mara replied. “This is for the Christmas issue, remember?”
Wearing a Santa hat, Gil returned from wherever he’d been. It was an incongruous addition to his stylish ponytail. “Ho ho ho. Winter wonderland time, everybody. Albert, break out the candy canes and fake snow.”
The props guy, who seemed to be Albert, followed Gil into the front of the store, holding two bushel-basket-size containers of Christmas decorations tipped down so the contents were visible, including a beribboned ball of artificial mistletoe. Bridget and Mrs. Dutton exchanged a smile. Seeing things like that in May was just plain odd.
“Okay to hang this stuff?” he asked her politely.
“Of course,” Bridget said. “I’d love to help.”
“Fine with me,” Albert said. He went to the back and came out with a ladder, setting it up in front of the shop window.
Gil studied the window display, ignoring a few passers-by on the sidewalk, who were studying him and the equipment inside the store curiously. Big doings for this little town, Bridget thought with an inward smile. She waved to a woman she recognized, who shaded her eyes with one hand and peered inside for a few seconds, then moved on.
“Maybe you’d better lock the door for now,” Gil said. “Looks like street traffic is picking up a little. We don’t want just anybody wandering in, do we?”
“Guess not.” Bridget locked the glass-paned door and turned the sign on it to closed.
Head tilted up, Albert was looking up at the beams that framed the shop window. “Easy enough. We’ll use thin nails and you won’t see a thing when we take it all down.”
“Thanks,” Bridget said.
The props man went up the ladder, a heavyset elf in a plaid shirt and chinos, holding a compartmented box of nails and a hammer. He gestured to Bridget to hand him one of the containers of Christmas decorations and set it on the flip-down shelf of the ladder. The large container was narrower at its bottom but the shelf was barely wide enough to hold it. However, nothing in it was heavy, as far as Bridget knew. Albert looked into it and then down at his boss.
“Whaddya want, Gil?”
“Country charm. Keep it real.”
Albert pulled out a long garland of plastic cranberries and papier-mache popcorn, interspersed with cardboard gingerbread cookies.
“Real enough for me,” Gil said cheerfully. “Have at, you two. I trust you and I’m hungry. Bridget, is there anyplace in Randolph that serves sushi?”
“Not yet,” Bridget replied with a smile. “You can get great burgers, though.”
The art director looked faintly appalled. “I don’t eat cows. Albert, do you want a sandwich?”
“Not right now.”
Gil left, going out the back way. Mara skittered after him, followed by Harry and whoever else hadn’t left yet. Mrs. Dutton accepted the stylist’s invitation to accompany her and the makeup artist, launching into a breathless description of the apple pie at To Go, the luncheonette three blocks away.
Bridget was alone with Albert, glad of the chance to decorate the way she wanted. Models and whatnot were not her area of expertise, but she had a very definite idea of how she wanted her store to look, considering the article was going to appear in a national magazine.
Albert hammered in several nails and she handed up the garland, which actually did look real when it was up, hanging in graceful half-circles that moved slightly in the breeze created by the fan.
They went through the box and he let her pick the things she wanted. For a final touch, Bridget selected a pair of white-painted pinecone angels and positioned them on either side of a small shelf that held red-and-white striped baby sweaters. Very Christmassy.