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Leonard’s face crumpled with genuine regret, and she could see that this conversation was causing him real pain. “Nicole, if it were up to me alone, this would never happen. You’re irreplaceable, truly. But this partnership represents a significant opportunity for the firm’s future, and I have to consider what’s best for the business as a whole.”

She felt as if she were watching the scene play out from outside her body. She felt numb, looking at her boss and trying to fathom how this was happening. This was the one constant in her life, the one thing she felt secure in and confident about, and it was crumbling. Suddenly, she felt like second-guessing every moment she’d spent in the office. Just like her marriage, she thought, somehow it had been falling apart without her even realizing it, while she’d been going along merrily day to day believing that everything was fine, and that she was doing good.

“When?” she asked, surprised by how calm her voice sounded.

“Two weeks,” Leonard said, looking at her as if he were surprised that she was taking it so well. But what was she supposed to do? Cry and beg for her job? If that would help, then Leonard wouldn’t have come to her talking as if everything was obviously settled. Which, of course, it clearly was. And she wasn’t going to humiliate herself over a job.

“I wanted to give you as much notice as possible,” he continued. “And of course, we’ll provide an excellent reference and a generous severance package. I want to make sure that you’re set up well to be able to take your time finding a new position.”

Two weeks. Fifteen years of her life, reduced to a two-week notice. Nicole nodded mechanically, her mind already racing ahead to all of the things she needed to worry about now. Suddenly her possible divorce seemed even more catastrophic. She might have a mortgage to pay on her own, soon. She would need new health insurance. At fifty-two, the job market wouldn’t exactly be clamoring for her to find a new position. Employers were more likely to see her age as a liability.

She honestly had no idea what she was going to do.

“I understand,” she said finally. “I appreciate the severance and you letting me know in advance. I’ll start thinking about what I’m going to do next.”

Leonard nodded, that defeated look still on his face. “Nicole, I want you to know that this decision reflects absolutely nothing about your performance or how much I value you as an employee. In a perfect world⁠—”

“I understand,” she repeated, not wanting to hear any more platitudes. “Actually, I think I’m going to take a half day, if that’s all right. I need some time to think about this.”

“Of course,” Leonard said quickly, standing. “By all means. I’m sure you have sick days to use.”

Nicole nodded, turning off her computer as her boss walked out. She gathered her purse and coat, still feeling numb. She’d break down at some point, she was sure, but at that moment all she felt was dazed. She had work that she needed to do—she’d even planned on taking some home that night as a distraction—but what was the point in putting her all into projects for a company that no longer wanted her?

The drive home felt like a blur. She paused as she parked in her driveway, suddenly hesitant to get out of the car and go back into her empty house. She felt lonely, adrift, with no idea what she was supposed to do from here. This wasn’t the age where she was supposed to be starting over. She wanted stability, comfort, peace, and none of that seemed within reach just then.

She stared at the exterior of her house, a pretty yellow-sided two-story craftsman with a neatly kept front yard that was scattered with leaves, bare flower beds out front. She’d lived in this same house since just after she and Carl were married, and now it was full of memories that she was no longer sure she wanted.

In fact, there was absolutely nothing that she felt sure about at the moment.

She got out of the car, tucking her purse against her shoulder as she walked up the gravel drive. There was a manila envelope waiting on her front porch, leaning against the door, and she felt her heart sink as she picked it up.

She had a feeling she knew what it was before she even opened it. She stood there on her front step, pulling the sheaf of official-looking white paper out, and the first couple of lines was enough to tell her everything she needed to know.

Carl had made a decision, at least. They were getting a divorce.

Nicole let out a breath, shoving the papers into her purse as she unlocked the door and walked into her house. She stood in the foyer, breathing in the familiar scent of wood polish and pumpkin candles, and looked at the boxes of Christmas decorations sitting in her front room that she hadn’t had the energy to put up yet.

They definitely weren’t going up that evening, she thought grimly as she stood there, trying to absorb everything that had happened. It had been one thing after another, and she couldn’t help but wonder what bomb was going to drop next.

Truthfully, she wasn’t sure if it was possible for the day to get any worse.

CHAPTER TWO

The background hum of classical Christmas music filled the air as Henry Cline sat at his workshop table in his electrician’s shop, sorting through a new shipment of Christmas lights. It was fairly monotonous work for him, the kind of thing he was used to doing this time of year. Boxes of twinkling LEDs, garlands, and specialty bulbs covered nearly every available surface in his small shop, transforming the usually orderly workspace into a chaos of cords and colorful packaging.

As the only electrician in Fir Tree Grove, Henry usually stayed busy. But Christmastime was an entirely different situation. From just after Thanksgiving until Christmas, he did even more work helping with Christmas light installments than he did regular electric repairs. Between handling the town’s major light installations, helping the local businesses with their displays, and regular customer projects, he was busy all month with holiday work.

He’d always handled it all himself. He liked keeping busy, and he enjoyed the merriment of the holidays and seeing the residents and business owners of the town happy with their Christmas decorations. But this year seemed busier than ever, somehow. The phone had been ringing off the hook since Thanksgiving, residents calling with increasingly elaborate requests for outdoor displays. Mrs. Patterson wanted synchronized music with her light show this year. The Johnsons were determined to outdo their next-door neighbors with a fifteen-foot inflatable Santa that required its own dedicated circuit. And he’d spent the better part of the morning explaining to the Morrisons that what they wanted would violate more than a few town ordinances, and would need to be rethought.

Henry paused in his sorting, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair as he surveyed the chaos around him. He’d never felt like he couldn’t handle the holiday rush on his own before. He survived on coffee and the satisfaction of seeing the cozy Maine town come alive with light during this time of year. But this year, it felt like the requests had multiplied beyond anything he could reasonably manage alone, and for the first time in his career, he felt like he was going to need to hire help.

He hadn’t wanted to. He liked his privacy and his quiet. He enjoyed working as an electrician because it was methodical and peaceful, and he liked problem solving. That, as far as he was concerned, was better done on his own, without other voices and opinions muddling it up.

It was going to be hard to find someone who he felt comfortable with, and who worked well with him. Not because he was a hard person to get along with—he didn’t think so, anyway—but because he liked to be quiet and focused, and most people couldn’t handle silence for long periods of time. Plus, he had his own methods and routines after so many years, and bringing someone into all of that sounded like its own kind of headache.

His entire life these days was quiet. After losing his wife five years ago, he’d withdrawn more and more, interacting with friends and neighbors for work and not much else. People tended to be well-meaning, he’d found, worrying about his lifestyle and suggesting he needed to “get out more” or “find someone new.” He didn’t have any real desire to do that though. Daisy had been the love of his life, and he’d poured the love and attention that needed somewhere to go into his work in the absence of having someone to give it to.

She’d always loved his talent with lighting, and every time he flipped the switch on a new installation, watching a house transform with holiday joy, he felt like she was there with him. Every year, when she’d been alive, he’d surprised her with some new design for their holiday lights. Even other times of the year, he’d outline their bedroom window with fairy lights or wrap them around the old oak tree in the backyard. It felt like pouring himself in his work was a way to remember her, and it felt odd bringing someone else into that.