Mistletoe Falls glowed softly under a new layer of snow. The lampposts sparkled as if dipped in sugar. The whole town looked so sweet and peaceful that a stranger might believe nothing ever went wrong there.
Mortimer Pleasantry knew better.
He stood beside the parade float garage, clutching a clipboard so tightly the edges had curled. His breath puffed out in frustrated clouds.
“There are too many risks,” he muttered. “Lanterns tipping over. The ice rink cracking. The marching band scaring the horses. The cocoa tent exploding like last year. The mayor deciding to juggle something. And candy being tossed like live grenades. There is no way I can manage all of this.”
He paced a few steps. “Maybe the parade would be fine without me. Maybe someone who does not see disaster around every corner should organize it this year.”
A soft glow flickered from the largest float nearby. Mortimer turned toward the Wishing for a Snow Day float, decorated like the combined imagination of every child hoping school would be canceled. Glittering foam stones framed the well, tiny lights sparkled like falling snow, and the blue silver center released gentle puffs of mist, as if exhaling whispered snow-day wishes.
The light swirled upward. A woman stepped gracefully out of the well as if it were made of starlight. She brushed ribbon from her coat and smiled.
Mortimer stumbled back. “What in the world?”
“Good evening,” she said. “I am Merrilee Snowcroft. Your Risk Angel.”
She pulled a parchment from her coat. It unfurled instantly, glowing faintly at the edges. A single arrow trembled in the bottom corner.
Mortimer pointed. “What is that?”
“A magical risk chart,” Merrilee said proudly. “It reveals the emotional state of project managers who are one cocoa tent explosion or candy concussion away from giving up.”
The arrow squeaked a little higher.
“What does that mean?”
“It means your risks are going unacknowledged. Avoiding risk launches the chart upward like New Year’s fireworks.”
The chart squeaked higher again.
Mortimer groaned. “Even the paper thinks I am failing.”
“Not failing,” she said gently. “Just forgetting why acknowledging risks matter.”
Snow curled around them like a ribbon and lifted them into a swirl of wind and light.
When Mortimer opened his eyes, they stood in the center of Mistletoe Falls. The parade was already in motion.
And everything was wrong.
The parade horses startled at a trumpet blast and stampeded. The marching band scattered, slipping on the street while trying to avoid hooves. A trombone player slid under a float, horn first, producing a long moaning note like a whale asking for help.
The arrow shot upward. “Adaptive risk response ignored,” Merrilee said. “Remember, plans change. Update yours or chaos updates it for you.”
A row of lanterns tipped over and the last crashed into the North Pole Shop float. Peppermint curtains smoldered, sending up smoke that smelled like burnt cocoa.
The arrow climbed again. “Iterative review forgotten. It’s like milk. You have to check it often or it goes bad.””
The reindeer puppet team caught a gust of wind and drifted sideways into the cocoa tent. Marshmallows erupted like fluffy shrapnel.
The arrow crept past the halfway mark. “Scenario mapping overlooked. Think through three disasters now so you only face one later.”
Mortimer clutched his throat. “This cannot be my parade.”
“You are correct. It is the parade of someone who did not see disasters around every corner.”
More chaos followed. A candy cane arch collapsed. Confetti cannons backfired and buried the choir. The drumline chased a rolling bass drum. A giant inflatable snowman broke loose and drifted into the sky with two shrieking middle schoolers tangled in the lines.
Mortimer spotted the mayor juggling daggers near the inflatable nativity scene.
Mortimer choked out, “Stop him!”
“I cannot intervene,” Merrilee reminded him. “Risk must be managed.”
The arrow soared so high it nearly curled off the parchment.
Mortimer covered his face. “This is too much. Why is no one stopping this? Surely somebody is in charge.”
Snow swirled. The vision dissolved. They stood once more beside the Wishing for a Snow Day float.
Mortimer’s voice shook. “I had no idea everything fell apart like that. I thought the parade would run just fine without me.”
“That is because most heroes go unnoticed,” Merrilee said. “You see risks others do not. That is your gift.”
Mortimer stared at the parchment. The arrow quivered near the border.
“How do I fix it?”
She tapped the chart. The arrow shivered, paused, then flipped itself over, pointing downward like a steadying breath.
Mortimer blinked. “Why is the arrow going down now?”
“All good charts adapt,” Merrilee said brightly.
Mortimer straightened his clipboard. “Then I will identify risks. I will map scenarios. I will finally create a proper risk management plan, one that prepares for every contingency we saw tonight.”
With each risk he listed, the arrow on the parchment dropped lower. With each mitigation plan, the arrow calmed, lowering in smooth, sure strokes.
Soon the parade participants lined up along Main Street. Mortimer walked the route performing one final check. He tightened a lantern rope, reminded the drumline about icy patches, and ensured the horses were wearing the jingling anti-spook bells he recommended.
Everything felt ready.
At the end of the line, Santa looked down from his sleigh with a broad smile. “Come along, Mortimer. Anyone who keeps a town safe deserves the best seat in the parade.”
Mortimer climbed into the sleigh and settled beside Santa as the reindeer bells jingled. The sleigh glided forward to cheers from families bundled in scarves and blankets.
As they rounded the corner by the bakery, Mortimer’s eyes widened. The candy cane balloon arch swayed sharply, one side dipping lower in the wind.
“Santa, it is going to fall.”
Before he could leap out, Merrilee appeared beside the arch, unseen by the crowd. She flicked her fingers. A soft shimmer drifted over the balloon structure, steadying it as the wind died down.
Mortimer let out a long breath. Merrilee caught his eye and nodded before quietly stepping back into the crowd.
The sleigh continued through Mistletoe Falls, lights glowing, bells ringing, and families cheering. Mortimer sat beside Santa, clipboard tucked under his arm, feeling confident for the first time all night.