Page 62 of Lighting Up Christmas

“You mentioned that I needed a theme, but I don’t have one.”

“You do,” Riley objected. “Fire Ridge Winery—your first released wine—the late harvest Riesling, empty bottles, corks, wine goblets. Silver reflecting the ice and the red and gold lights reflecting the fire. And if you want, we could weave a few of the pruned branches from your vines through the tree and add some green lights to look like the spring buds or purple clusters of lights to look like grapes.”

How did she do that? Incorporate his land, his vines, his wines so easily, as if they too were part of her as they were of him. Even though he’d struggled to explain to Jackson—his closest friend—why having the winery was so important to him. Riley didn’t make his winery sound like he was having a midlife crisis. To her, it seemed to make sense. He could never tell his mother. Her scorn would scorch the earth.

What would his grandfather think? Zhang liked to imagine he would understand.

“That’s a theme.” Riley smirked.

He looked at the tree. “So this is going to be okay?”

“If you like it.”

“I do. It’s architectural in structure. Simple. Elegant.”

“Like the man.”

Color climbed up her cheeks. The way she saw him, like nothing was too out of whack and needed to be fixed, still stole his breath.

“What about yours?”

“I’m working on the bike that was in your garage, but I have to wait for the paint to dry.”

“I thought trees had ornaments.”

“Many do. People collect them or buy certain brands or themes like Santas or cows or airplanes. My parents would let us pick a new ornament each year so that we would have a start for our trees when we were adults.”

“That was a tradition? Do you still buy an ornament each year for yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Are you going to put them on your tree this Christmas even though your family is gone?”

“Yes.”

Her phone buzzed again, but she had yet to reach for it.

“It could be work,” he said. “You should take the call.”

“It’s not work.” Riley sighed and looked guilty.

It suddenly struck him that he knew very little about her personal life. “Your boyfriend?”

“What? No. I don’t have one.”

Only she still looked guilty.

“Tell me.”

Riley walked around the garage as if stretching herself, preparing for a run. “The Christmas market might have to be canceled,” she said. “Sophia and I and quite a few others have put a lot of planning into trying to get this off the ground for several years, and we had a lot of resistance initially from the city council.”

“I am sorry. You mentioned it several times, so you must have been looking forward to it. Is the Christmas Tree Lane auction canceled?”

“We can put a Christmas tree auction entry in each shop like we normally do,” Riley said. “But we wanted to have a Christmas Tree Lane at the Christmas Market. We are looking for another site for the market, but we need a covered area. Rain is predicted on Sunday. The market is Friday evening, Saturday, and Sunday.”

He nodded.

“Will your business be hurt?”

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