Page 36 of Lighting Up Christmas

“It could become a hub of the community, connecting the downtown core with the park and then the mill development. I can totally see it—outdoor gooseneck lights along the path to the mill. There could be a boutique hotel there, and a restaurant or a few food trucks, and inside there could be some shops, selling local produce or artisan cheeses from one of the local farms, and wines and local smoked meats and fruit. Tourists could have a picnic by the river and concerts in the summer.”

“You describe it so well, I feel like I am looking at it instead of an abandoned ruin,” Zhang said softly as they approached the sprawling dilapidated mill.

“I thought a farmer’s market could be there in the winter,” she said. “We have one in the park in the spring and summer, but in winter it’s too cold.”

She nearly tripped over a log. His hand caught hers. His grip was strong. It felt so right, and Riley wanted to cling. She wanted to burrow into his warmth and stay there.

You’re lonely because of Christmas coming.

But Riley was afraid it was the man.

“Oops. That’s my second trip tonight.” She tried to laugh it off. Ugh. She sounded so obvious.

She forced herself to let go of his hand. She’d always had a thing for hands, and Zhang’s were beautiful—large but refined, his fingers tapered, perfect buffed nails with a half-moon. And his much darker skin was a beautiful contrast to her milky-white, glow-in-the-dark complexion.

“Not sure why I’m so clumsy tonight,” she said, wishing she’d shut up but not wanting him to think she’d been making an amateur girly ploy to touch him. She would not bethatwoman. “I tend to get carried away by town history and, well, wanting to make it better.”

“What’s wrong with it now?”

“Nothing, but I feel like the town council is too enthralled to the mayor and to the one really wealthy, large land-owning family around here. They want to keep the town the same, not try to make a few changes that will boost our tourist profile. The family, who buys up a lot of foreclosed properties and hangs onto them, has a lot of support because some locals are afraid their property values will rise too steeply.”

“How is that bad?”

Riley rolled her eyes. “I know, right? But the taxes can be a problem for those on a limited income. And I don’t want a developer to buy the mill or surrounding land and mow it all down. I just think that, with some care and judicious choices, we can distinguish our town from the other towns in the valley that are mostly agro-based and not get swallowed up by Medford. Like this park, for instance.” Riley warmed up to her theme. “It has a covered bridge. So cool, right? It’s on the National Register of Historic Places. This year, we’ll finally have a small Christmas market in the park. A few merchants set up in the market, and then we have a covered outdoor area to accommodate more vendors, and there’s music, food carts.” She paused dramatically.

He waited. “That sounds like typical small-town holiday activities.”

“Exactly!” Riley fist-bumped him, startling him briefly out of his stoic expression. “It will be wonderful, but only one weekend. With the Christmas Light Garden, families could walk along a path and see a few different scenes of Christmas or wildlife inlights. The light garden would draw people into Bear Creek to eat or shop. It would be an experience, create memories and traditions, and I could change it up each year. Entrepreneurs or service groups could get involved and sell hot cocoa and cookies. Musicians could busk or choirs could sing. It could involve different groups of people and appeal to the town, differentiate us but also be a tourist draw.”

“You have a passion for your town.”

Riley ducked her head and sipped her coffee. She did. The only one in her family. Her brothers and cousins had all wanted a bigger stage on which to live their lives.

“I never had that.”

“A hometown?”

“No. My mom is driven. She is an interim CEO. She specializes in turning companies in crisis around or leading them through the sell off. She’s tough. Fearless. Brilliant. Works all over the world.”

“Oh, so growing up you’ve lived all over the world, and now you want to make a home,” she guessed, feeling for his plight. “Only it’s difficult to settle in and feel a sense of belonging, because you’re straddling two such different worlds.”

“You took a psych class at that community college where you teach?” he demanded.

Riley took a step back at the vehemence in his voice.

“I’m sorry.” He lightly gripped her upper arms. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong. I do that a lot.” He turned away, ran his hand through his thick hair.

She’d struck a nerve, but she hadn’t meant to. And he’d struck back, but he hadn’t meant to.

“I was prying,” she said, trying not to enjoy his touch so much.

Their gazes clashed—his narrowed and glittering obsidian and hers probably searching for answers, as always.

“That’s your job,” he said softly, his gaze holding hers until Riley felt lit on fire, like she had to crawl out of her skin.

“I’m an electrician.”

“You are so much more than that,” he breathed, and when his gaze drifted lower to her mouth, Riley’s tummy flipped to her throat.

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