Page 10 of Mountain Man's Naughty Elf
"Put them back," I said, more sharply than I'd intended.
But instead of complying, she continued sifting through the fallen decorations, a strange expression crossing her face. "Someone loved these. Really loved them." She held up a hand-painted ornament with "Baby's First Christmas" written across it. "They left behind their memories."
My stomach knotted as tears welled in her eyes.
"Hey," I said awkwardly. "It's just stuff."
A tear spilled over, tracking down her cheek. "It's not, though. It's someone's Christmas history. Their traditions." She looked up at me, her expression earnest. "Don't you think it's sad? That they left all this behind?"
I shifted uncomfortably. "Maybe they upgraded. Got new decorations."
She shook her head, holding up a hand-knit stocking with "Grandma" embroidered on it. "You don't replace things like this."
More tears were falling now, and I felt myself floundering. I hadn't dealt with a crying woman in...hell, maybe ever. What was I supposed to do with this?
"Hey," I tried again, softly this time. "It's okay."
"I'm sorry," she sniffled, wiping her face with the back of her hand. "I don't know why this is hitting me so hard. It's just—the holidays are about making memories, you know? Traditions passed down. Keeping the magic alive." She gestured at the scattered trimmings. "And these are just sitting here, gathering dust."
I ran a hand over my face, knowing I was going to regret what I was about to say. "We could put some of them up."
Her head snapped up. "What?"
"Not all of them," I clarified hastily. "But if it'll stop the waterworks...maybe some of the lights. A few ornaments."
Her entire face transformed, tears still wet on her cheeks but her eyes shining with something else now. "Really? You wouldn't mind?"
"I said minimal decorating," I stressed. "Not the full North Pole experience."
"Of course, of course," she agreed, though her expression suggested she'd heard only what she wanted to. "Just enough to honor the Yuletide spirit.”
I sighed, already regretting my moment of weakness. "Let’s get this cleaned up first."
We collected the embellishments, returning them to their boxes. Every so often, Pepper would hold something up with an expression of pure delight, setting it aside in a growing "keep" pile that I pretended not to notice was getting larger by the minute.
"Look at this!" She held up a string of lights with multi-colored glass bulbs. "They don't make them like this anymore. These are the good ones, from before everything went LED."
I took them from her, examining the ancient wiring. "These are a fire hazard."
"They're vintage."
"Vintage electrical fires are still electrical fires."
She pouted. "Fine. But these are safe." She held up a more modern-looking string of white lights. "We could put these along the mantel. Very tasteful, very minimal. You'll hardly notice them."
"Sure," I conceded, knowing I was fighting a losing battle.
Her smile was bright enough to power the aforementioned lights. "And maybe just a few ornaments on that pine bough you have on the bookshelf?"
"Don't push it."
"Right. Minimal. Got it." She nodded seriously, then immediately ruined the effect by bouncing slightly on her heels in excitement.
With the mess mostly contained, we carried the "approved" decorations back to the living room. I insisted on checking the wires thoroughly before plugging them in, a precaution that earned me an eye roll but that I refused to skip.
"They work!" Pepper declared triumphantly when the white lights illuminated. "Now for the mantel."
She climbed onto a chair to reach the top of the stone fireplace, wobbling slightly. Without thinking, I positioned myself behind her, steadying the chair with one hand, the other hovering near her waist in case she fell.
