Page 25 of Lighting Up Christmas

Riley knew just what he meant.

“It always felt spiritual to me,” she said softly. He looked at her, and she realized she was standing closer to him than she’d intended. As they’d walked his property along the power lines to check that all looked in order, she’d detoured at the ridgeline where she and Leah used to let the horses run.

“I used to ride up here,” she admitted. “This was my favorite place in the world, and when I rode this land, I felt every problem fall away. I would imagine myself a golden eagle perched and ready to take off and fly anywhere I wanted to go.”

She’d also felt like a queen surveying her domain, which was a cringeworthy image now that she was an adult.

“Do you feel like a king up here?” she asked curiously. Master of all he surveyed. She could see him as a royal. Confident. Powerful. Certain of being right.

Lonely.

“A king seems an outdated analogy.”

“Then what?” she prodded, encouraged he’d engaged at all with what likely seemed like babbling to him.

He turned back to face the valley. The heavy, gray sky had descended even lower, and a wicked sharp wind kicked up from the mountain. The silence enveloped them like a stiff breeze.

“It’s going to snow,” Riley said happily, arms spread wide, face tilted to the pregnant sky. “At any moment.” Her eyes drifted shut. “In five, four, three, two, one.”

As if at her command, the first few fat snowflakes drifted down and landed on her face. “Yessss,” she breathed out softly.

He still said nothing.

And Riley, her head tilted back, eventually opened her eyes. She could see the snow—thicker now—swirling down, kissing her face. “Hello, you,” she greeted.

“I would have thought you’d find the snow an inconvenience.”

“What? No. Never.” Riley stuck her tongue out to catch a few flakes. “I love the snow. It’s so beautiful coming down. I always felt an affinity with each snowflake—you know, being unique. I definitely identify with that.” She laughed ruefully.

“Why?”

Seriously?

“I was teased when I was little—a lot, obviously. But then my mom talked about how each snowflake is unique, which probably sounds corny. It helped because the snowflakes are different, but they all work in concert to create something beautiful and fun to play in.”

“Your mom said that?” He sounded astonished.

“It’s a total mom statement,” Riley laughed. “She was trying to comfort me. I was the only girl. Three brothers.”

“Your life was so different,” he mused.

She wondered what he meant by that—maybe because he had lived abroad. “I always wonder how my life would be different if she hadn’t died when I was ten,” Riley said softly. “I’m happy now. I love my life and my work, but I still miss her.”

Zhang didn’t answer. He didn’t look at her.Too much info, Flanagan, but she loved to talk about her mom. Remember her. She wondered what Zhang’s mom was like. She must be so proud of him.

“Why obviously?”

“Ha! Never pictured you trying to be gallant, and you seem too wicked smart to be obtuse.” Riley waved her thick braid at him. “Tall, skinny, and red, with no filter. None. I provided a lot of comical moments, and headaches for my parents at parent teacher conferences, that’s for dang sure.”

Zhang watched her. That was the verb, and Riley felt like a zoo animal. He’d probably never had a moment of doubt as he navigated the world, and if he did, he would assume the error was the user’s. She smiled at her pun. Still, you never knew about people, and in the eight years of owning the property, he hadn’t made any effort to become a part of the town’s fabric in any way, so maybe he did have some challenges.

“I bet you didn’t cause a single problem as a kid,” Riley said, unable to picture Zhang breaking a rule or making a mistake.

“Not a betting man.”

She laughed at how literal he was being. “And you definitely didn’t get teased,” she guessed.

“I didn’t interact with kids,” he said stiffly. “We should head back down to your crew.”

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