Page 2 of Lighting Up Christmas

He’d never liked her. After she’d spent hours and hours with him in the reading nook in elementary school, he’d gone out of his way to torment her in middle school and then ignore her in high school. Her mom had said it was pride. Riley had just been trying to be nice. Helpful. She hadn’t expected thanks for her childhood good deed, but she did think her professional future shouldn’t be undermined either.

The other council members stirred; confusion crossed their features.

“It is a good plan, Riley,” Jennifer Nevens spoke up. “And you’ve given us a lot to think about. It’s just the timeline is so tight, and our budgets are set in July.”

“Which is when I started trying to get on the agenda,” Riley said firmly. Mr. Butter Won’t Melt in My Mouth Mayor hadn’t treated her as fairly as any other constituent. “My costs are below what you are currently planning to spend.”

She knew because she’d checked. Town budgets were public information. “And the timeline is tight but manageable,” she said confidently. She had already created, in her opinion, somebeautiful designs focusing on nature over the past couple of years when she’d started exploring the idea, so she’d have a base to start. Who needed sleep? Besides, with her family away—she ignored the pinch of dread—there would be no one to caution her to slow down, relax, put her ambition on simmer, and her aunt’s favorite: find a man.

Jeff’s expression soured as if he’d bitten into an unripe, bitter grape from one of his family’s hundreds of acres of vineyards—only one of their enterprises.

“I’ve emailed the presentation and figures to all of you,” Riley said. “Thank you for your consideration.”

She resisted looking at Jeff and adding a “not” at the end. She closed her laptop, caught up her sturdy backpack, and slid her computer into its case as she swanned out of the general meeting room at city hall. She wasn’t going to get the project despite giving them a mind-blowing win-win bid.

Jeff Bane was too petty and still No Brain Bane. He thought of himself, not the town that he had theoretically planned to lead.

The town council and city planners, still steeped in tradition and caution, were too enthralled by Jeff’s five generations of wealth and power in their small corner of the world to consider thinking outside a Bane’s brain.

Outside, Riley let loose a growl. He’d won this round. But she wasn’t giving up.

*

“How’d it go?”Her best friend, Sophia Gonzales, looked up from her computer the moment Riley, holding the folded edges of a white bag from their favorite bakery, Running Fox, in her teeth and a tray of coffees in one hand, opened the door to Sophia’s shop with her free hand.

Sophia crossed the wide-planked hickory floor she and Riley had spent hours restoring last year when Sophia opened her store, Lost and Found Objects. She took the coffee tray. “Release,” she said softly, her dark eyes sparkling.

Riley plopped the bag on the counter like a well-trained pooch. “I bring yummy sustenance to counter the yucky reception of the meeting.”

“That bad?” Sophia’s eyes darkened.

Riley plunked down on a zebra-pattern triangular stool Sophia kept tucked behind the sales counter just for her.

“My presentation was fabulous.” Riley kicked out her long legs and opened the bag. She held it out to her friend, giving her first pick of the croissant sandwiches. “I think a couple of the town council members were interested, and definitely a couple of the city planners listened intently and smiled, but not enough to kick Jeff off the throne he squats on in his own mind.”

Sophia smiled ruefully. “He is a tyrant. And he’s getting worse.” She swung her long curtain of hair behind her in the ultimate disdain toss that would be Lizzo approved. “He came in here yesterday.”

“Here?” Riley looked around the small, eclectic store that so reflected Sophia’s love of vintage and repurpose and crafty. She represented many Oregon artisans. Sophia had even snagged a few of Riley’s lights she’d created, priced them astronomically high, in Riley’s opinion, and while Riley had cringed waiting for the scoffing to commence, sold them within the first couple of days. “Jeff probably doesn’t even use the same toothbrush twice.” Riley laughed. “And judging by his immaculate clothes and the fact that the soles of his shoes are pristine, I’m sure he thinks a speck of dust is fatal.”

She peered into the bag since Sophia was taking her time. She was hungry. Their heads bumped.

“Impatient.” Sophia laughed at her. “I’ll have the veggie one. I’m craving avocado.”

“Who doesn’t?” Riley demanded. “That’s why both sandwiches have avocado. Fruit of the gods.”

“I am not feeling very godlike today,” Sophia said. “I have so much new inventory to unpack before the Christmas season starts that I actually broke a sweat.”

“No,” Riley teased. Sophia’s aversion to exercise and sweating was well documented. It had only been one of the many contrasts between her and her fiancé. Their differences had made their relationship thrive, Sophia always said. Enrique had been such a fitness buff. And he’d loved the outdoors—hiking, camping, kayaking. When he’d died in the fire, Sophia, still deeply grieving, had started walking and then running trails through the remaining woods he’d loved so much. Riley ran with her, not wanting her to grieve alone. The runs brought Sophia some peace. She said she could feel Enrique’s spirit.

“Hopefully, your sweat broke out when Jeff walked in, and he was so shocked, he turned right around and left.”

“No such luck. He stayed and looked around.”

“He did?” Riley stopped chewing and looked around Sophia’s shop with the large front windows and the clever merchandise display accessories Enrique had made with reclaimed wood, along with the refurbished farm equipment and supplies Sophia and Riley had been collecting for years at barn sales.

“Was he looking for a present?” Riley was shocked. Jeff always bragged that he did his shopping in San Francisco or Portland, both over three hundred miles away and not contributing to Bear Creek’s financial bottom line.

“Noooooo,” she drawled out thoughtfully. “I don’t think so. He noticed your saxophone light and asked about it. He asked if the artist’s products were up to code, and did I check the business licenses of each vendor.”

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