Everything Noel

By Lisa J Lickel

Job 42:2: “I know that you can do all things, and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted.”

Welcome to a funny and poignant holiday tale of mysterious calls and miscommunication as Shelly and Danny's first Christmas together approaches.

In this holiday follow-up to Everything about Us, Shelly wants to continue to build her public relations firm and agrees to do a big favor for her godfather. Danny Winston, aka Winston Daniels of movie fame, is desperate to rebuild his burned dreams and help his family face down a medical crisis.

They each overhear part of a conversation and jump to conclusions which challenge their marriage and fragile faith. It's a little “wonderful life” meets “gift of the magi” for these two special people and those who love them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Prism Lux
• Release date: Dec 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781522398882

Lisa J Lickel

Lisa J. Lickel is a writer who lives in Wisconsin. She has served on several historical society boards, and worked with programs, writing, and editing research projects. Lisa is a freelance editor, book coach, an avid reader, and book reviewer. Find more at www.LisaLickel.com.

Book preview

America

1

I don’t know, sir. Shelly Colter-Winston slumped in her office chair and whirled away from her too-clean desk to face the six inches of snow scoured into fearsome sculptures on the outside of her picture window. With the wireless communications receiver clipped to her ear, tangling cords were a bother of the past.

Everything else in her life, however, was presently bothersome.

Especially her husband of almost a year. Danny is so adamant about no more major parts, she told the man on the other end of her call.

She lifted her way-too-expensive frou-frou heels to the desktop and leaned against the cuddly pale, chamois chair back. Working at home in Wisconsin, on the farm, was no excuse not to dress like a rising production mogul. "I understand…James. Yes, yes…after that fiasco on the set of All Blue to You, he nearly walked out. It’s not that. They weren’t professional in how they approached him to change his contract."

Shelly took a deep breath while she listened to her godfather, legendary movie director James Pettibone, list the case for her new husband’s command performance in his next picture. She still had trouble reconciling James and his late wife Glory’s role in her life, how her father had orchestrated a rift that kept them at arm’s length instead of a close and loving relationship they’d once been.

Addressing James as sir came more readily. "You can pick them, yes. It was a fluke, finding Danny at the last second for Everything…it wasn’t a fluke; it was the Holy Spirit. OK, but…yes, he did turn down James Bond."

Shelly put her feet on the carpet, kicked off the ridiculous pointy-toed spikes, and wiggled her piggies in the carpet of her home office. Surely, the Holy Spirit had seen her feet before, but invoking His presence made her casual posture seem irreverent.

She stood and took a deep breath. Five-foot-two could command authority in Hollywood when applied with steel. One didn’t need to be tall and svelte…well, maybe svelte. She unclipped the earpiece and rubbed her ear, while listening to the dear old man wax eloquent over Danny’s undeniable talent. Three small roles were all he’d agreed to after his award-winning surprise debut two years ago in Everything About You. Each small role involved minimal dialog and less than a month’s time away from their Wisconsin fish farm. His award-winning character, dedicated heartthrob rancher Lane Thompson, had spun off into half a dozen script pitches. Mr. Pettibone had optioned to direct his favorite if Danny would agree to reprise his role and Shelly would promote it. Finding the financing was a piece of cake. Getting the male star to agree would be a bear.

Shelly, my girl, Pettibone’s tinny voice came through the earpiece she held.

Shelly quickly switched to her desktop speaker phone.

…retire with my reputation intact.

Her knees went wobbly at retire. I’m sorry…the connection is a little fuzzy. You said ‘retire’? What? From…not from Jovian Pictures?

It’s time, my dear. Maybe past time. Not everyone wants pictures like mine anymore.

Shelly swallowed hard. "But look how well Everything About You did. That means something, that there is an audience for epics with good people trying to defend dignity and better the world."

Fewer and further between, but thank you.

His quick inhalation on the other side of the phone line was a bow to James Pettibone’s ability to share painful truths in a way that made the listener jump to fix the trouble.

He said, The truth is, Shelly, Danny’s refusal to accept another great offer, and his growing status as someone difficult to work with is trickling down even to writers who can’t sell a script with a character as good as Lane Thompson. His attitude is affecting all of our reputations—those of us who vouch for him.

Shelly pursed her lips and stared out the side corner window back toward one of the huge sheds housing Liberty Ridge Fish and Danny’s business office suite. Four inches of new snow fell yesterday to herald the month of December. A howling wind from Canada whirled the frost into circles of blue-white around the windowpanes. She shivered, more from the ominous picture her godfather was painting than the cold.

He’s so dedicated to making the fish farm work. Shelly took a breath and counted to five while searching for answers. I don’t think he realizes what’s at stake on our side of the fence. I’m really sorry about all of this. No one could have predicted the outcome of that first movie.

It could have easily been a flop, Mr. Pettibone agreed.

Shelly hugged herself. Isn’t this really more like five-minute news? I mean, movie stars are a dime a dozen, aren’t they? Even her attempt to minimize the situation sounded small in her ears. Surely your lifetime achievement in directing awards testifies to your good name, sir.

I wish that were true, dear girl. I truly do. Times like these, I miss Glory more than anything. She would have either given me the wise words how to handle the script, or a wise word to Danny about how to handle Hollywood.

I miss her too, she whispered. I wish she could have been at the wedding.

She would have loved it. Mr. Pettibone’s soft tone changed abruptly. See what you can do, dear. Remember, Jovian, your father’s company, and yours, too, are all impacted. And try to remember my name. Call me ‘James,’ not ‘sir.’ You talk with Danny and call me later with good news, I hope. Good bye now.

The click from half a country away, sunny California, echoed like a gunshot. Nerveless, Shelly dropped into her chair and swiped her sweaty forehead with a trembling hand. Her father’s production company? And her very own public relations firm potentially ruined by silly rumors that Danny was difficult? Why, Jessamyn Waldorf demanded all organically-grown food supplied by her farm in Texas, flown in daily. Timofea Jergenkranz needed a special-size bed with a brand new expensive mattress and real Egyptian cotton sheets from Egypt, on every set.

Danny had fewer riders in his contracts than most of Hollywood’s elite. Being flown back to Wisconsin every couple of weeks was nothing compared to lobster and watercress du jour.

Shelly raised her cheek. How could one actor’s wish to keep a low profile tarnish the reputation of the movie industry’s leading visionaries like James, her father, and now, if she could be so bold, her own promotion company, Colter-Winston Public Relations? James commanded great respect in the back-biting world of film making, but his was only one view. If anyone would know the inside story, it was Uncle Fred. He’d know all the gossip. She stabbed at speed dial, muttering, "If anything, all the little wanna-be hotshots should