I swear someone’s bought more. This has to be double what we put up last year.
And in all probability the generous donor wouldn’t be the one climbing ladders to hang them.
He reached for one of the last crates when the door jerked wider, fast enough that a gust of icy wind slapped him in the face.
“Whoa—sorry!”
A hand shot out, steadying the crate before it tipped. Noah blinked against the sudden swirl of snow and found himself staring up at a man he didn’t recognize. He was tall, like,reallytall, broad in the shoulders, with warm dark eyes and a swarthy complexion. Across the chest of his navy uniform jacket were stitched the words MAPLEFORD FIRE.
“You okay?” the man asked, his voice low and steady.
“Yeah, just surprised, that’s all. You nearly blew me into next Tuesday.”
“That’s the hazard of dramatic entrances.” The man’s quick, crooked smile didn’t fully reach his eyes. “I’m Danny Rodriguez, the new Fire Chief. I started a few weeks ago.”
“Oh!” Noah straightened. “Welcome to Mapleford. I’m Noah Carter.”
Danny’s handshake was firm, warm despite the freezing air.
“I’ve been meaning to introduce myself sooner,” Danny said. “But the station’s a mess of paperwork and half-unpacked boxes. I thought getting out and meeting people might help me feel a bit more oriented.”
That last word was enough for Noah to see a man trying to settle into a place that was still shaping itself around him.
He gave Danny a warm smile. “Well, you picked a good day. Nothing says ‘welcome to Mapleford’ like being roped into festival prep.”
Danny looked at the crates, then past Noah to the heaps of coiled lights. “So I’ve heard.” His tone held a trace of amusement, but it was tempered, like humor worn over something heavier. Not sadness, exactly, more like weight.
“Where should I put this?” Danny hefted the crate Noah had been carrying with ease.
“Inside, by the stage,” Noah said. “Unless you want an even heavier box.” He grinned. “We have those, too.”
“Of course you do,” Danny murmured. As they walked, Noah snuck a glance at him. Danny moved like someone used to constant readiness, his posture solid, his steps measured.
City-trained, I’ll bet. Big department, long hours, bad nights he wouldn’t talk about.
He had that look. Noah recognized it immediately. He’d seen it in a lot of newcomers who came to live in Mapleford.
“So what brings you to this perfect little corner of Maine?” Noah asked as they reached the stage.
Danny set the crate down with more care than seemed necessary.
“I needed a change,” he said after a moment. “Something quieter.”
“Oh. Well, you’ve got that here.”
Danny exhaled a breath that might have been a laugh. “Yeah. It’s… different, but in a good way.” The lights flickered overhead, casting gold across his face. Danny looked around the room at the kids’ drawings taped to the walls, garlands half-hung, volunteers laughing across the hall, and his expression relaxed for a heartbeat. “You all really do this every year,” he murmured.
“Every year,” Noah confirmed.
Danny nodded slowly. “Feels nice. Like a place that means it.”
Noah tilted his head. “Where are you from originally?”
Danny glanced down. “Worcester.” A beat of silence. “I did a long stint in Boston.”
“Do you think you’ll miss it?” Noah asked.
He hesitated, and a muscle flicked in his jaw. “Some parts of it, maybe.”
