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The gesture should have melted away all her silly concerns about the widow Leopold, but somehow Mabel found herself wondering if George would have been equally appreciative if Eda had been the one to bring him lunch. Would he have squeezed her perfectly manicured fingers with the same casual affection? Would he have complimented her thoughtfulness with the same warm smile?

Mabel took a bite out of her sandwich with unnecessary force, annoyed at herself for allowing a stranger’s flirtations to affect her this way. She’d never been the jealous type—during her marriage, she’d always felt secure in her late husband’s affections, and even during the early days with George, when their relationship was still new and uncertain, she’d never felt this kind of territorial anxiety. But then again, no one in town would flirt with a taken man.

There had been something about Eda Leopold’s predatory confidence that had gotten under her skin in a way she couldn’t quite explain. Maybe it was the woman’s obvious wealth and sophistication, she thought frustratedly, glancing down at her warm, familiar, simple red sweater, favorite worn-in jeans, and sturdy boots for walking in the snow. Maybe it was the way she’d looked at George like he was a particularly attractive item in a shop window, something to be potentially acquired.

Or maybe it was the uncomfortable realization that for all the blessings her relationship had brought into her life, it now also meant that for the first time in years, romantically, she now had something to lose.

“Everything okay?” George asked, his brow furrowed with concern. “You seem a million miles away.” He tilted his head, looking at her as if he could read her jealousy on her face. She didn’t want that at all. She felt foolish just thinking about it.

“I’m fine,” Mabel replied automatically. There was no point in making a bigger deal out of it, she told herself as she stabbed at a pear in her salad. George probably hadn’t even noticed. She was making a mountain out of a molehill, as her own mother would have said. And there was absolutely no reason to think that George would be attracted to a woman like that. In fact, she realized as she thought back, she herself was the first woman he’d been attracted to in recent memory. She couldn’t remember the last time George Lowery had gotten into a relationship before her, although it certainly had happened. “I’m fine,” she repeated with a forced smile, reaching to pour a fresh cup of water from the pitcher on the table.

George nodded with a smile, then turned back to the topic of the bed and breakfast, talking about the work that still needed to be done, and how things were at the farm. Mabel smiled and nodded along, her appetite fading as the widow lingered in her thoughts, refusing to leave no matter how many times she told herself she was being ridiculous.

Everything should be fine. Wonderful, actually. But as she sat there sharing lunch with George, Mabel couldn’t help but wonder if their newly discovered happiness was as secure as she’d believed.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The phone had been ringing since seven-thirty in the morning, and Henry was beginning to wonder if every person in Fir Tree Grove had suddenly decided they needed elaborate Christmas light displays installed before the weekend. He’d barely had time to finish his first cup of coffee before Mrs. Holcomb called to add yet another tree to her already extensive order, followed immediately by the Hendersons wanting to discuss upgrading their lighting wrap to include the carriage house, and then the new family on Elm Street wondering if he could possibly squeeze them in before Christmas Eve.

Henry rubbed his temples as he stared at the appointment book that seemed to be multiplying entries before his eyes. In the two days since Nicole had started working for him, the phone hadn’t stopped ringing, and while part of him was grateful for the business, another part was starting to panic about how he was going to fulfill all these commitments without cloning himself.

He glanced across the shop to where Nicole sat at the small desk he’d hastily cleared for her, and felt a familiar mixture of bewilderment and admiration. In just forty-eight hours, she’d completely transformed his chaotic office space into something that actually resembled a professional operation. His invoices were filed, his inventory was cataloged, and his appointment book—which had previously been a collection of sticky notes and barely legible scrawls—now looked like something a real business owner might actually use.

More impressive still, she’d somehow managed to contact all of his regular commercial customers who’d been neglected during the holiday rush, apologizing for the delays in their orders and arranging delivery schedules that kept everyone happy. Henry had been dreading those calls, knowing he’d neglected longtime clients who depended on him year-round, but Nicole had handled the situation with a professionalism that made it clear she’d dealt with far more difficult customer relations challenges than his small-town lighting business could ever have.

Watching her work, Henry couldn’t shake the feeling that Nicole Peterson was severely overqualified for the position of Christmas light installation assistant, at least when it came to the administrative side of things. Their first day had proved that on the lighting side of things, she didn’t know so much as how to efficiently untangle a string of lights.

But when it came to business, everything about her suggested that she had plenty of experience with much larger operations. She was fantastic at prioritizing, managing clients, and seeing problems and coming up with solutions without even being asked. She belonged in a corner office somewhere, managing budgets and coordinating teams, not answering phones for a one-man holiday decorating service.

Which only made him more curious about what had brought her to Fir Tree Grove, and why she seemed so determined to make this arrangement work despite being so obviously out of her element.

The phone finally stopped ringing long enough for Nicole to approach his workbench, where he’d been attempting to test a particularly temperamental string of LED lights. She carried a neat stack of message slips, her handwriting precise and legible. It made his own chicken scratch look positively prehistoric.

“Seventeen new messages this morning,” she announced, setting the stack beside his elbow. “I’ve organized them by priority. The red flags are people who need work completed before this weekend, yellow are next week, and green are flexible on timing. I also took the liberty of calling the hardware store to check on the availability of the specialty bulbs Mrs. West requested, and I can go pick them up if you approve the order.”

Henry picked up the messages, scanning Nicole’s neat summaries of each conversation. She’d captured not just the basic information, but notes about customer preferences and timeline flexibility that would save him hours of follow-up calls. It was exactly the kind of thing that he’d have told himself he’d remember, and then ended up needing to call again later to make sure he had the right details.

“This is…” he began, then stopped, not quite sure how to express his appreciation without sounding condescending. “You’ve been doing this kind of work for a while, haven’t you?”

Something flickered across Nicole’s expression. “A few years,” she replied neutrally. “Different industry, but the principles are the same.”

The evasiveness only fueled his curiosity, but Henry knew not to push when people weren’t ready to share their stories. Everyone had their reasons for ending up in places they hadn’t expected to be, and Nicole’s past was her business until she decided otherwise. He had his own wounds, after all, and he didn’t want them prodded at either..

What was his business was the small mountain of work neatly written out on the message slips in his hands. Even working fourteen-hour days, there was no way he could handle all these installations alone, not if he wanted to maintain the quality that had built his reputation in the first place.

His original plan had been to keep Nicole in the office, handling phones and paperwork while he managed the actual installations. It was safer that way. She wouldn’t get hurt, or make mistakes that would upset clients or cost him time fixing them. After the first attempt on her first day, that had seemed like the logical course of action.

Looking at the sheer volume of work ahead of them, Henry realized that plan was no longer viable. He needed help on the job, even if it meant taking on the liability of training someone with no experience.

And if he was being completely honest with himself, part of him wanted to see how Nicole handled real challenges, not just organizational tasks. He’d given up asking her to help after the first appointment on that first day, taking her back to the office to start organizing. She’d seemed happy just to still have the job, and he’d figured it was better that way all around, even if he’d been working almost past dark that day to get everything done.

He’d convinced himself over the years that he preferred working alone, that assistants were more trouble than they were worth, that his standards were too high for anyone else to meet. Maybe it was time to test those assumptions—and maybe it was time to test Nicole’s claim that she could handle whatever he threw at her.

“Nicole,” he said, making a decision that felt slightly reckless, “I’m going to need you to come with me on installations today. The office work is important, but I can’t get through this schedule working alone. Do you feel up for some actual ladder climbing?”

A hesitant expression, mixed with determination, crossed her face. “Absolutely. I can do whatever you need me to.”

Henry studied her expression, but the hesitation he thought he’d seen had vanished. Instead, he only saw the same resolve that had brought her into his shop in the first place, the stubborn streak that had made her grab an armful of Christmas lights and declare herself ready to learn on the job.