Page 61 of Lighting Up Christmas

“I just…” She smiled. She was doing it again. “I’m excited.”

“You enjoy decorating trees that much?”

Yes. But she was more excited to see him. “Come in. How was your day?”

“I had trees I had to clear,” he said. “But only a couple fell. I understand the town didn’t fare as well.”

“No. The park lost a lot. There’s a beetle that’s been decimating the birch trees, and so a lot of them lost branches or they were uprooted and basically acted like they were javelins at a track meet practice.”

“Ouch.”

“Yes, and some firs, hemlock, and pine timbered. The covered area in the park where the Christmas market was to be held is partially crushed in one corner.” Why was she yammering on about something that wasn’t his problem? Nerves. Humiliating, as she used to have nerves of steel until one Zhang Shi was in play.

“C’mon.” She opened the door wider. “I have the tree in a stand in the garage. Did you bring any decorations?”

“Just what you told me—some unused wine bottles and extra corks.”

“Perfect. How’s your arts and crafts gene?”

He looked down at his jeans and then back at her. “I can honestly say I have never done anything crafty.”

“Then it truly is something new.” Riley wasn’t sure if he was punning her or being literal. Heart beating hard with welcome, she stepped back. “Prepare to be wowed.”

*

He’d been beratinghimself about coming. He had so much to do and had been in conference calls and Zoom meetings with quite a few members of his team all day. But he’d promised Riley he’d come. He’d been half hoping, half dreading receiving a phone call that the Christmas tree auction was canceled due to the storm, but she hadn’t called to cancel so he’d headed down his mountain, both eager and nervous.

“I somehow pictured the decorations being flashier,” he said.

“They can be.” Riley sat back on her heels and looked at the tree. They had wired in about ten of his late harvest Riesling bottles—his first vintage from a couple of years ago that he’d made no effort to sell—and filled the bottles with silvery twinkle lights. Then Riley had spray-painted quite a few wine corks silver and talked him through how to pin them together to create a star at the top that she threaded with tiny silver filament lights. They had also attached two red crystal wine goblets Riley had found at a barn auction a few years ago, angled up and tilted toward each other like they were toasting. Remote control votives were in the bottom of the glasses, casting a pretty ruby glow.

“Your first tree. Stand next to it,” she said, digging out her phone.

“Why?”

“It’s Fire Ridge’s first entry to the Christmas tree auction and your first Christmas. You can post to your social media accounts and—What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He still looked at the tree.

“You don’t like the idea.”

“I don’t not like the idea.”

Silence. The one thing he didn’t expect from her.

“A Christmas tree,” he murmured. “I thought…”

“What?” She stood and came to him. He crossed his arms, afraid that he might touch her hair or cup her silky, soft cheek. She looked so luminous in the waning light of the sunset that beamed through the open double doors of the garage.

“I thought it was tackier, with popcorn and cranberries and glittery ornaments and tinsel.”

“It can be. A Christmas tree reflects the family or the person. There aren’t any rules.”

“No rules.”

“Not really.”

He’d thought the tree would look dumb. But it looked elegant with the bottles hanging off the tree dripping with lights like diamonds.

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