Page 60 of Lighting Up Christmas

“Disaster. Total, unmitigateddisaster!” Sophia burst into Riley’s garage, where Riley had worked most of last night sanding and repairing the bike. She’d gotten on one coat of rustproof paint, and risen early this morning to apply the final coat of glossy red. She’d engineered a tripod stand to hold the bike vertical and had soldered on two of the old wire egg baskets—one on the bike’s seat and the other on an outside handlebar.

With all of the wind and snow that had dumped, Riley had been happy to stay home this morning and work on constructing the Flanagan & Sons’s Christmas tree for the auction as well as construct a few small light fixtures and sconces to sell at Sophia’s booth at the Christmas Market this coming weekend. She’d been surprised she hadn’t received any emergency electrical calls yet.

With the heater on, the paint should be dry by tonight so she could add her lights. She’d already made the motor that would spin the wheels to create a kaleidoscope of light and color once she had the tires fixed.

“It’s not done yet,” Riley said. “But I think when it is, this cutie Christmas tree is going to fetch top dollar. Let city hall or Zhang even try to come close.”

“You’re not listening to me,” Sophia all but wailed. It was totally unSophia like.

“What’s wrong?” Riley rocked back on her heels and stood, closing the paint bottle as she did so.

Her smile faded as she looked at Sophia. Sophia’s usually long, beautiful hair that she twisted up in intricate braids or elegant twists was in a messy ponytail and full of twigs and fir needles. Her jeans were ripped and muddy, and she wore galoshes instead of her usual cowboy boots or stylish Fry or Ariat brand boots. Even her red cashmere scarf was wrapped around her neck haphazardly.

“What’s wrong?” Riley asked with mounting alarm.

“I can’t believe you haven’t heard. I can’t believe you weren’t there to try to help. This is an unmitigated disaster. The Christmas economy is ruined.”

That sounded melodramatic, and Sophia was not one for major drama. “What are you talking about?” Riley asked, pouring a mug of coffee, adding some creamer, and walking it over to her friend. “Start at the beginning.”

Sophia took a sip of coffee and then a deeper one. She shuddered.

“I didn’t realize how cold I was.”

Riley noticed that several of Sophia’s nails were broken and dirt was under the nail bed. She handed Sophia several wipes she kept handy since she worked in her garage so often and didn’t want to track dirt in her house—a lingering habit from when her mother ruled her roost, brandishing a mop and broom and bar of soap.

“Thanks. I thought Jeff Bane would have texted you.”

“Not unless under penalty of death,” Riley said wryly. “My name and Flanagan & Sons were conveniently left off the roster of downtown merchant members, and suddenly the rules changed so I wasn’t eligible to re-up until January. By the time I realized it, the hassle of the fight just seemed too petty, andthe rule change irritated more than just me, so businesses in the downtown core are back in next year.”

She made jazz hands.

Sophia huffed out a breath. “You really should run for mayor.”

Riley laughed. “I keep threatening to with all my spare time. So why is Christmas a no-go this year?”

Sophia set the coffee aside. “I hope I’m overreacting, but I don’t think so. The storm last night uprooted a lot of the old trees.”

“Really?” Riley’s eyes went wide. “I hope Zhang’s house is okay. He built a really cool house up near the tree line, close to the old Tully farmhouse.”

Sophia opened her mouth and then closed it. Then she opened it again, and Riley realized she’d said too much.

“You were in his house.”

“Really, Sophia, you act like a homicide detective trying to pin a gruesome murder on me. I was at his house yesterday—working with Jake while Zhang was in his office in the Bay Area—and the storm came in a bit fast. I’d stopped to pilfer some antiques from one of the storage garages he got with the sale and never bothered to clean out. He arrived home before the storm and let me stay until it started to wane, and I came home, alone,” she stressed the words, “before the other storm hit.”

She didn’t embellish with any of the details—the hot shower, the change of clothing, the heart-to-heart about his grandfather and then coffee and muffins and finishing up details on his website.

Sophia would jump into matchmaker mode while Riley was still trying to build a friendship.

“The storm didn’t seem so bad. I didn’t lose power or receive any calls, so I didn’t know anything bad had happened.”

“It wasn’t bad. It was a one-hundred-year storm. It was a disaster.” Sophia returned to her opening theme. “The trees damaged the covered area in the park and knocked out part of the covered bridge, and with the water running so high, the city planning department and police are worried about flooding. The Christmas market is going to be canceled if we can’t find a new place to hold it.”

*

“Hi, you madeit,” Riley said. “I wasn’t sure.”

“I said I would come.” Zhang stood on her doorstep looking like he was the marquee model for an outdoor catalog. His hair was perfectly brushed back from his forehead, so tempting to touch that she jammed her fingers in her back pocket.

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