Page 3 of The Christmas Blueprint

“We all did our reading before we got here, Mayor,” Bruce said more cheerfully than Sophia would have expected. “Rules are rules. Girl’s a local.”

Sophia’s spine shuddered at “girl.”

Baby steps.

“The city charter is a living document. Rules and bylaws do need at times to be amended to fit the circumstances,” the mayor said with a grab at dignity.

“Sometimes you gotta swim against the current,” Bruce said, leaning back in his chair. “And sometimes you just gotta flow with it. What’s next? I’m missing my supper and don’t want to be here all night.”

“Thank you,” Sophia said, feeling her heart settle down to a more normal pattern.

“There are still many things to be decided,” the mayor said coldly.

“Then let’s decide them,” Jennifer, the lone female council representative, said, tapping her manicure on the arm of her chair. “And move on with the agenda. I need to get home and make sure my twins are doing their homework, not gaming with God knows who around the globe.”

It wasn’t perhaps the most inspirational demonstration of democracy at work, Sophia thought, sitting down. She hoped she hadn’t soured anyone other than the mayor for Riley’s presentation. Her friend had been tweaking her plan for months, and had taken over one of the large pole barns on her boyfriend Zhang Shi’s vineyard property as her workshop so she could build and tinker with her light show construction during the year. Sophia had seen parts of it lit up as Riley had added on to the light garden she’d done at the last minute for the Christmas Market up at Fire Ridge Winery last December.

Riley stood up, a bounce in her step. She lightly squeezed Sophia’s shoulder as she moved past her and connected her laptop so the city council and planning commission could see her presentation.

Sophia watched, excitement and nerves swelling through her. She’d done it. She’d taken the next step in her plan to move on and rebuild her life. Now she just had to get her family on board so that they’d stop worrying so much, coddling her like she was a fragile, vintage ornament no longer hung on a Christmas tree and cherished but instead protected, wrapped in tissue and stored away.

Chapter Two

The heavy kickof the drum of the Lumineers song “Brightside” thumped through his truck’s speakers just as he saw Exit 30 ahead. The distorted guitar chords a few measures later felt like nails raking down his soul.

Almost home.

Killian Flanagan’s stomach soured. Bear Creek hadn’t been home for about fifteen years, and he’d had hoped to keep it that way.

“The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” he intoned.

Yeah, he was being dramatic—not his usual style, but he’d been trying to ignore the garment bag of suits and dress shirts hanging on a hook behind him, partially blocking his view out of his back window for over four hundred miles. The large Patagonia duffel bag of casual clothes, socks, and underwear he’d tucked onto the floor of his truck had been easier to ignore. His fold-up drafting table, boxed-up desktop computers, and laptop case dominated the back seat.

This wasn’t a quick trip.

“One year,” he said under his breath not sure if that was reassuring or daunting, but Hunter Hawkins had been a good friend for most of his life, and Killian came through for friends.

Except the one time he hadn’t.

Lead singer Wesley Schultz crooned about mishaps and light in eyes, just as a grim late November sun shimmied briefly between the dark, pregnant clouds.

The shaft of sunlight and the title of the song didn’t feel inspirational. There was no bright side to leaving a job he’d liked in the city he loved. His downtown Seattle Belltown apartment had looked out over Elliott Bay and the Olympic Mountain range. His new apartment—not ready for him until early January—looked at a vacant lot with a broken chain-link fence, which left him bunking in with his sister for a month since his dad and stepmom had recently sold his childhood home.

His furniture and most of his possessions were in a POD for a year—not that he had a lot. He’d been in college for most of his twenties working construction and collecting degrees, trying to find the perfect career fit. He’d hoped with his master’s in urban and regional planning from Portland State and then the master’s in architecture from the University of Washington, that he was finally on track.

But just as he’d started up his career ladder climb, he’d needed to jump off a rung and head back to rural Southern Oregon.

Temporarily.

It’s beautiful.

Riley’s there.

Part-time job as a city planner.

The short list wasn’t particularly inspiring. True, he’d gain some experience in urban planning—ha! Bear Creek population was well under ten thousand. He’d be head of a department of one, part-time, and subjected to the selfish whims of an entitled mayor who imagined himself king and the town of Bear Creek his fiefdom. The members of Bear Creek’s planning commission and the city council were toadies.

But at least he had a title in the field he longed to make an impact in. And he could hang out his architecture shingle and likely gain a few clients this year so it wouldn’t be a total career stall.

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