In the distance, I spot the now familiar red coat. Leah stands with a group of workers, hands gesturing as she gives instructions. Even after a full day of physical labor, she radiates energy.
As if sensing my gaze, she turns suddenly, looking in my direction. I step back into the shadows of the trees, but not before she raises a hand in a small wave.
Seen.
The thought follows me back to the cabin, where I build up the fire against the deepening cold. Outside, the first flakes of snow begin to fall, large and soft, settling on the pines surrounding my property.
Tomorrow, the meadow will be transformed. Filled with lights, music, laughter, families. All the things I've been running from.
All I need to do is stay in my cabin. Ignore it. Wait for Sunday when they'll pack up and leave, and everything will return to blessed quiet.
That's the logical plan. The safe plan.
So why am I pulling the refrigerator door open, taking out one of Leah's muffins, and eating it slowly by the fire? Why am I standing at my window, watching the snow fall on the distant lights of the meadow?
And why, despite all my determination to remain uninvolved, am I already knowing that tomorrow, I won't be able to stay away?
CHAPTER FOUR
LEAH
"The lights on the north side aren't working!"
I suppress a groan, rubbing my temples where a headache has been threatening all morning. Of course the lights aren't working. Why would anything be easy on the most important day of the Winter Wonderland event?
"I'll check it!" I call back to Mike, our overworked electrician who's already dealing with a power issue at the hot chocolate station.
Snow crunches beneath my boots as I make my way across the transformed meadow. Overnight, six inches of pristine powder has turned our Winter Wonderland into a genuine snow globe scene. It's picture perfect, or it would be if everything would just work properly.
I reach the northern perimeter where a string of twinkling lights hangs dark among its brightly lit companions. Kneeling in the snow, I trace the wire to the connection point, searching for the problem. My fingers are nearly numb despite my gloves, and my breath clouds in the frigid morning air.
"Need help?"
The deep voice startles me so badly I lose my balance, falling backward onto my butt in the snow. Looking up, I find myself staring at Aaron Wilson.
He's standing just on his side of the property line, hands tucked into the pockets of a worn leather jacket. His dark beard is dusted with snowflakes, and his blue eyes are watching me with what might almost be amusement.
"You came," I say, unable to hide my surprise.
"I'm not at your event," he corrects me. "I'm on my property."
Technically true. He's standing in the exact spot where we spoke yesterday, firmly on his side of the boundary. But he's here, watching, which is more than I expected.
"Well, since you're just standing there on your property," I say, getting to my feet and brushing snow from my jeans, "any chance you know anything about electrical connections?"
He hesitates, then steps over the invisible line, crossing into the meadow with reluctance written in every line of his body. It feels momentous somehow, like watching a wild animal venture out of the forest.
"Let me see," he says, crouching beside the dark string of lights. His large, calloused hands make quick work of examining the connections. "You've got moisture in the junction box. Probably from the snow."
He pulls a multi tool from his pocket, deftly unscrewing the plastic housing. Within moments, he's separated the wires, dried them with a handkerchief from his pocket, and reconnected everything properly.
The lights flicker, then illuminate, completing the twinkling perimeter around our event space.
"Thank you," I say, genuinely impressed. "Are you secretly an electrician?"
"Former Navy. We had to learn a bit of everything." He stands, towering over me. "Your setup looks like it's drawing too much power for these temporary lines. You might blow a fuse when everything's running at once."
"That would be a disaster." I chew my lower lip, looking around at all the electrical elements—the carousel, the light displays, the vendor booths with their heaters, the sound system. "Mike said we'd be fine with the generators we rented."
