“You ever been to the North Pole?” I call back.
“No.” She makes a face. “But merry and bright is the goal. I watch documentaries.”
Of course she does.
I stretch up one more notch and clip the last section of lights into place. “There. That’s as high as OSHA, and my spine is gonna allow.”
“Who’s OSHA?” she asks.
“Someone who doesn’t want me falling off this ladder and breaking my neck before you hit middle school.” I climb down rung by rung. My boots thud against the frozen red clay soil when I hop off the last one. “C’mon. Let’s test these before my fingers stop working.”
She scoots closer to me, practically vibrating with excitement, and it’s contagious. No matter how much I hate hanging the lights, I live for the way her face goes soft with wonder when it all turns on. I jab the plug into the outlet and hold my breath.
For a solid three seconds, nothing happens. I mutter a few words my daughter absolutely doesn’t need to repeat and wiggle the plug.
“Uh-oh,” Lucy whispers. “Is this like last year?”
“No.” My answer sounds more confident than I am. A flashback of myself standing on the roof with half the light strands shorted out plays in my mind. The boss didn’t want to invest in new ones. I ended up on the roof at midnight with a headlamp and a prayer.
I fear a repeat. But then there’s a buzz. The lights flicker before they slowly blaze to life, and I exhale. A warm white glow illuminates along the eaves of the barn. It wraps around the support beams on the porch and outlines the massive double doors. The massive wreath over the entrance glows like something out of a movie.
Lucy’s mouth drops open. “Oh my gosh. Dad.”
She takes it all in. But I look at her instead of the barn. Her eyes shine as if I’ve personally installed a new star in the sky. The cold, the ache in my back, and the kink in my shoulder from sleeping wrong on that old couch… It all fades for half a second.
“There we go,” I say softly. “North Pole enough for you?”
She tears her gaze away from the lights just long enough to beam up at me. “It’s perfect.”
Yeah. Christmas lights are totally worth it.I sling an arm around her shoulders and pull her in against my side. I breathe in the smell of marshmallows and the cheap hot chocolate mix she spilled on her jacket earlier.
“Can we do the cabins next?” she asks, bouncing a little under my arm. “And the big tree near the spa? And the?—”
“We’ve got a whole week,” I remind her. “You trying to kill me by New Year’s?”
She grins. “Of course not. I need you alive to make pancakes on Christmas morning.”
“Good to know my value around here.” I ruffle her hair again. “You ready to head in? I gotta go check on the new hay delivery.”
She doesn’t answer.
Lucy’s staring at her phone instead. Her thumbs are flying across her phone. I spot the AirPods tucked into her ears, hidden beneath her hair. Normally, I have ano screens when we’re working rule, but I broke it today.
Everyone’s got a job at Kingridge Ranch, and that includes kids, I guess. Priya’s got her doing faceless social media videos for some new family-friendly amenities on the property. Lucy takes it as seriously as if she were the CEO.
“Hey.” I put my hand on her head. “What are you listening to?”
She sighs a dramatic, preteen huff in my direction. “Fine. The new Boots & Bitching episode came out. Everyone at school is already listening to it.”
Nothing like a secret town gossip podcast to keep a bunch of fifth graders entertained.
“What did we say?” I ask. “You can listen if it’s on speaker and I’m there. They don’t exactly rate that thing PG.”
She rolls her eyes. “You’re the one who says kids should know the truth about their town.”
“Yeah, but I meant stuff like taxes and the mayor being full of shit. Not… whatever that woman talks about.”
Lucy snickers. “She doesn’t use bad words every episode.”
