Page 41 of The Christmas Blueprint

“Six, five, four,” Sophia called out with the others. Harlow jumped excitedly by her side and added her voice to the mix. “Three, two, one,” and then the tree lit up—gold and red, a torch of light in the dark, and music started to play. A wide path of lights lit up all around them in a spiral path that led to the riverfront walk and illuminated the path all the way to the old Applegate Mill complex. In the trees and bushes and even the creek, small creatures in nature scenes lit up in a rolling display, and the crowd—cheering the tree lighting—collectively gasped. There was silence while everyone watched the path of the lights cutting a swathe through the dark.

“She did it,” Sophia breathed.

“Amazing.” Killian stared, his face lit with awe.

“I want to see it all,” Harlow whispered.

Sophia felt everything inside of her still—like there was too much excitement and pleasure and surprise to process and so she just closed down, trying to process it all.

“It’s a story,” Harlow squealed. “It’s the poem’Twas the Night Before Christmas. It’s like a book that’s a light show we can walk through.”

“It is.” Sophia blindly reached out and found herself holding Killian’s hand.

The connection felt so good, solid, safe, something she’d been missing.

“I’ve never seen anything more…more amazing, more beautiful, more welcoming, more in the spirit of Christmas.”

Killian looked at her, and Sophia felt once again like she was falling into a warm, rushing river of stars. Warmth and promise coursed through her. “It’s magic,” she whispered.

Killian too was magic. So much. She felt it rub off on her and maybe soon, if he let it, the whole town.

Chapter Twelve

The excitement Sophiaexperienced all weekend carried through to Monday morning. Her sales were up from last year and, late last night, as she’d sat in a fragrant bath in an attempt ease her sore muscles, she’d placed more orders with local vendors and artists on her tablet. Even though her shop didn’t open until ten, she’d arrived hours early to tidy up.

The Christmas Walk was next weekend, which meant overhauling her window displays and adding a sidewalk sales area. She had the wonderful arched trellis from last year, and she planned to hang felted animal ornaments a local artisan made. They weren’t traditional Christmas ornaments but instead showcased local birds, animals and some magical creatures reputed to live deep in the Siskiyou National Forest.

She was also going to introduce a new product Riley had made after so many of her beloved birch trees in her yard and around town had died due to a beetle infestation. She’d had to have them cut down, and even as she’d mourned the loss of the white bark branches that had framed her small riverside craftsman home, she’d taken some of the felled branches, embedded small LED lights along the branches, and then “planted” them in a black pot with black garden rocks. The effect was stunning. She’d given Sophia one for Christmas last year, and Sophia had been so enamored, she’d begged Riley to make a couple for the entrance of her store—paying her, of course.

Riley had actually created a whole series of white birch light trees—small table lamps, and larger floor lamps. Zhang’s grandfather had been captivated by the process, so he and Riley had worked on several designs together. Now Mr. Shi often joined Riley in her workshop or collected items on his long walks or flea market hunts and brought them back for both of them to figure out a design to repurpose. Seeing Riley let loose her creative side made Sophia happy, but it also niggled her conscience. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d tried to sketch and it had been even longer since she’d painted.

Maybe someday.

She turned on the small fountain that Mr. Shi had made with stones he’d found on his walk along Bear Creek or in the hills of Zhang’s vineyard: Fire Ridge. Zhang had been so grateful to Riley for embracing his grandfather and giving him a purpose and also to Sophia for inviting him into her store to help with feng shui tips, but she felt like she was gaining as much if not more than she was giving. Mr. Shi had been insistent that she incorporate more nature and a water element in her store. When he’d brought in the fountain, someone had tried to purchase it even as he plugged it in to show her how it worked.

Sophia now stood in her window facing Main Street, smiling at the memory. She could see herself in her reflection as the sun hadn’t begun to rise yet. She could just imagine what Zhang’s grandfather and Riley could do to the Mill Market.

Suddenly, Killian was there in front of her window, hoisting up two coffees. His smile was brighter and more beautiful than any sunrise, and she found herself smiling back, her heart fluttering, not paying any attention to her reminders to tone it down. Harlow stood beside him in a school uniform of forest green and plaid that Sophia remembered well. She clutched her own festive green and red cup, but her expression was worried, verging on miserable, and her hair looked like she’d jammed a penny in a light socket.

Sophia remembered many of Riley’s hated hair emergencies during childhood.

“Thank you.” Killian breathed in relief. “I was praying you were open.”

“That seems a bit dramatic.” She smiled at Harlow, hoping that if she didn’t fall into Killian’s deep green eyes, her heart would squeeze back down her throat and settle back in her chest.

Harlow’s eyes filled with tears. “My last elastic broke this morning, and I forgot to pack any scrunchies, and Killian only has boy shampoo and conditioner. I need a special one for curls. And my leave-in conditioner and moisturizer spray. And…” She gulped in a deep breath as if trying to control her panic.

“I have just the solution,” Sophia said, calmly, hoping that if she said it, it would be true.

“Really?” Both Harlow and Killian spoke at the same time, and their expressions of hope mirrored each other’s.

“Jinx,” she said lightly. “Come with me. I have a selection of crushed velvet scrunchies made by a young mom who’s new to town. Yesterday, she brought me twelve samples in the afternoon. Let’s see what’s left. You can choose a color.”

Hopefully. Sophia remembered selling a few. One of her interns had displayed the scrunchies on one of Riley’s new birch table lamps up on the antique roll-top desk Sophia used as an office and wrapping station. She turned on the small light.

“Ooooh,” Harlow breathed. “They are so pretty. I love the raspberry one.” Harlow touched it with the tip of her finger. “But I need one that will match my uniform or that’s white or black.”

“You have an eye for color,” Sophia noted. “Most people would have said red or pink.” There had been a dark blue and a green yesterday, but those had sold.

---