Page 27 of Lighting Up Christmas

“And never the two shall meet,” she intoned, easily matching his long-legged stride, which made her grateful for once for her almost six feet, and for Sophia for getting into trail running.

“We interact every day,” Zhang said.

Riley pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at his literal interpretation. He fascinated her—the way his mindworked. The way he was both arrogantly confident and yet socially unsure. He seemed controlled and self-determined and yet vulnerable. So different from her. She wanted to know what made him tick.

And she loved the way his black eyes were so intense. She felt like she was staring into a night sky full of stars.

“So, you’re going to hire someone to sell your wine then.”

“Pardon?”

“Your wine. If you’re more into development and not a people person—as much,” she qualified, not wanting to insult him, “then you’ll hire a tasting room manager and a sales director depending on how much juice you make, which seems like…” She looked at the three expansive blocks of dormant vines pointing up at the sky and the other blocks that stalked down to other gently sloping hills. “Eventually, a lot if you wanted.”

He didn’t answer.

OK then. Whatever.Go for broke.

“This Friday is the first Friday of the month,” she began, and she had to bite back the bark of laughter at the incredulous look he sliced her way.

“It’s an event in town,” she clarified. He knew his days and dates. “The stores stay open late, local vintners or distillers offer tastings in their assigned stores. There’s also food from different vendors and musicians. It’s all year round, but the December First Friday is always a big deal because it kicks off the month of festivities.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“It’s fun. It’s an event. You—”

“Are you asking me out?” he interrupted, and the shock on his face would have been truly insulting had she been.

Riley bit back her reply and dug deep for her technique that had helped her to think before she spoke—sometimes.

“I was thinking that you might like to pour your ice wine and maybe your late harvest Riesling or something else at the event.” Riley uttered the words as dispassionately as she could. “Sophia is on the First Friday board, and while she has a cupcake vendor in the store and an upright bass player rocking some jazz tunes, there is a pop-up store connected to hers that doesn’t have a producer assigned. Shoppers love to taste wine as they shop, and it keeps them browsing in the store longer. You could set up a table there and pour your wines and sell them. It would be a great introduction to the community as the event is popular. It’s only a fifty dollar buy-in that supports the event and raises money for the downtown association.”

She expected him to utter ano. Or anabsolutely no.

The “I’ll think about it” flooded her heart with a warmth she should definitely not be feeling in a snowy field.

Chapter Six

Riley walked towardRiver Street, her head tilted back to look at the sky turning to dusk. A final javelin throw of pink pierced the dark and moody gray clouds building over the Southern Coast Range as the sun set. A storm was brewing but hadn’t yet arrived in the valley. She sighed happily, barely avoiding taking a sip from one of the large peppermint mocha coffees—she’d bought five of them. One for Sophia, one for each of the two volunteers, one for the teenage bass player who was the entertainment for the night and hoping to earn tips to supplement her freshman year in college. That left one for herself. Today, the First Friday, was Bear Creek’s unofficial kick-off to the holiday season, and it was also the first day the Caffeinated Goat offered one of their best-selling holiday beverages.

By now, Bear Creek had usually experienced its first dusting of snow. But overhead, the skies were still clear, giving the Christmas lights wrapped around the historic oaks lining River Street a proper chance to show off.

“Wait for it,” she murmured as she stood at the top of the street where it met the sprawling city park that paralleled the river. Riley looked down the wide street paved with bricks instead of asphalt. The old bricks—many that had been replaced over the years—added charm but also expense. The city managers often discussed paving over the bricks, but then the citizens and businesses and even tourists would rally with funds and loud opinions to keep River Street historic.

The street was closed, allowing only pedestrian traffic during the handful of festivals and events. Every year there would bea proposal to close the street permanently to traffic. Riley saw the value of allowing traffic on the main road of the historic downtown—it made shopping easier, especially for those who had physical impairments, but if traffic were banned, the bricks would be protected and have less wear, pedestrians would be safer, and restaurants and tasting rooms could spill out into the street during warm weather increasing their seating.

She looked at her watch. Five on the dot. She stepped off the riverfront path and onto River Street just as the lights that volunteers so carefully wrapped and strung over the past couple of weekends blinked on for the very first time.

Riley caught her breath. It was so beautiful. Magical. She still had the same thrill she’d had every year on December’s First Friday. The street just looked so pretty and welcoming. And the brightness was a fierce push against the dark of the winter season.

Christmas was one of her favorite times of the year, but she was a little worried about this one. For the first time, she would be alone. And she’d really wanted to debut her Christmas Garden of Lights—even a small version. It would have felt like she was making progress on her career goals and would have been a good addition to her work portfolio.

“Next year,” she promised. And she wasn’t alone. She had Sophia and friends and traditions and work.

Her phone rang. It was her dad, FaceTiming. She took the call, smiling. All of them were on the screen, her father, her stepmom, aunt and uncle, each one talking over the other.

It was morning where they were in Melbourne, eating at a beach café. Riley turned around so they could see the lights on River Street.

“You’re not working too hard, are you?” her aunt demanded as her father asked if she were helping Sophia in her shop. Riley chatted happily, asking a million questions. It was amazing thather family was coming up on the summer season across the globe, and she didn’t even have a passport.

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