Page 71 of Lighting Up Christmas

“Throwing one of my Z.Z. Wei paintings out my penthouse window got my attention.”

“Not my most mature moment.” Brin touched the painting’s frame. “You rescued it. The paining survived, but our relationship didn’t.”

No question in there so he didn’t answer. His mind continued to mull over the ice dragon. Riley was so warm. Genuine. Kind. She wouldn’t have deliberately dug at him, not like Brin had more than a few times. Or his mother constantly. What had Riley been trying to say? She was an artist. She could use figurative language, which he wouldn’t understand.

Had he missed something?

“I guess I’m here because we never said goodbye.” Brin turned away from the painting. “Not fully.”

Two years of not working together or seeing each other seemed like enough of a goodbye for anyone.

“When Harrison asked me to marry him, I wanted to be sure before I said yes. I’ve got business in Portland and Seattle, so I thought I’d stop by to see you.”

Zhang stirred uncomfortably. What? Did she think she’d show up and he’d fall on his knees and beg her to stay? Wildly unlikely. Brin was smart and ambitious and pragmatic. Not her style.

“There’s something else,” she said coolly, walking back toward him and sitting down. “I wanted to give you a heads-up. I’ve been hired on as a chief consultant with String Theory.”

“Congratulations. They are lucky to have you.” Brin was a brilliant business strategist. She worked long hours and was competitive and ruthless. The fact that she complained he worked too hard was richly ironic. Their intense work schedules were probably the only reason they’d lasted as long as they had.

“Good, I’m glad you see it my way.” She drained her wine and stood. He walked her to the door. She smiled and ran her finger along his jaw. “I wanted to gauge your reaction,” she admitted. “Still waters run deep and all that. Since we will likely be working together going forward with your new product division and Harrison’s proposal, I wanted to make sure there were no hard feelings.”

“None.”

“Good. I’ll see you next weekend, Zhang.”

Once again Brin walked out the door and drove out of his life, only this time, his sigh of relief was audible, and he didn’t have to run down twenty flights of stairs to see if his favorite painting could be salvaged.

Zhang returned to the Christmas Market and checked in with Tess. She’d sold a lot of wine and had been happy that Riley had ordered wine totes—they were labeled with Bear Creek Christmas Market, not Fire Ridge, but he liked them and instructed Tess to order personalized totes for the winery.

He offered to give Tess a break, but she refused. Riley had brought her a hot cocoa about fifteen minutes ago when the market business started to taper off. Zhang wasn’t sure what to say to Riley. Did he owe her an apology for getting pissed—not hurt—and tossing her surprise back in her face? And then Brin had shown up, throwing him way off his game.

He headed out to look at the ice dragon again, determined to be dispassionate now that he knew what to expect. Maybe he could understand what she’d been trying to tell him before he approached her again.

Zhang stood a distance from the winery and immediately realized what he had initially missed. She’d asked if he’d celebrated the Lunar New Year. She’d taken a popular icon in Chinese culture and created four dragons, each representing a season. He walked around the building, pausing at each flashing display of the dragon and its weather pattern shooting from its mouth.

Beautiful. Clever.

If she’d had more time, he bet that she would have had the dragons in their own seasonal backdrop. He was going to talk to the town council or planning commission or the mayor or whatever idiot had nixed her idea. And he was going to pay her to complete the dragon scene or what she could before next weekend’s product tease party.

He took several pictures of the display and returned to the Christmas Market that, with only forty-five minutes left, was less packed so it was easier to see the merchandise. Looking for Riley, he walked by Sophia’s booth and saw a soldered, rustedmetal tree with eye-catching colorful dragons hanging by their tails or curled up. Lights were embedded in the metal trunk and branches, and Zhang smiled. He was beginning to recognize Riley’s work.

The dragons looked like they were sculpted out of some kind of children’s clay that had hardened somehow—probably in the oven. The swirling colors and attention to detail were amazing, as were the two handblown glass eyes that gleamed with different colors.

The dragons looked alive. And not particularly impressed with him.

Can’t blame them.

But seeing the dragons after Riley’s light display and noting all the different colors, he couldn’t quite walk away.

A dark lime-green dragon with bright red floral wings caught his eye. It could practically be her. Green for her eyes when the sun was shining and for the spring season and the red bow could be her vivid hair. Even the stance was so Riley—upright on the back legs, front legs spread wide like the dragon was conducting an orchestra or embracing life.

“I’ll take this one.” He plucked the green dragon off the tree.

Who said he didn’t celebrate holidays?

*

A week laterand another Friday night, only this time, Riley felt like dropping into bed. She was even too tired to eat, and when was the last time that had happened? But she should scrounge around her fridge and find something. First a shower. She’d been working flat out in her workshop, and also up at Zhang’s event space adding to her light design.

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