Page 26

“Is everything all right?” he asked gently. “You seem… tense.”

Mabel let out a breath. She could tell him the truth, admit to the jealousy that was eating at her, confess to the insecure thoughts that had been plaguing her since Friday. Or she could swallow her feelings, pretend everything was fine, and hope that her mood would improve with time.

This was the time to come clean and talk to George about it, to be reassured and put it to bed once and for all. But the truth was, she had no idea how to express her feelings. Every possible way she could think of to explain it sounded childish and ridiculous to her. She could imagine George laughing it off, or even getting upset with her, and that made it worse. She felt small and silly, and that made her even more upset.

“It’s nothing,” she heard herself say, the words coming out more sharply than she’d intended. “Just tired, I suppose.”

George’s expression was still concerned, but he just nodded, going back to the wreath he was working on. He looked perfectly content to be there with her, working through the task of prepping the wreaths and enjoying the peace and silence while there were no customers at the farm.

But the silence felt heavy to Mabel now, weighted with everything she wasn’t saying. Every few minutes, she found herself stealing glances at George, searching his face for signs of… what? Distraction? Thoughts of an elegant widow with perfectly manicured hands and expensive perfume? She knew she was being paranoid, and what was worse, it was making everything else spiral too. She knew George was a man of few words, that he wouldn’t push or pry until she was ready to talk about something, that he could happily work in the quiet and not need to chatter on. Those were things she loved about him.

But now, all she could think was that he wasn’t talking to her because he didn’t really want to know what she was thinking about, not when he had someone else on his mind. Or that he didn’t want her to admit to her jealousy, because then he’d have to come up with excuses.

Holding in what she was feeling wasn’t making anything better. She knew that. But she’d already said she was fine more than once, and she didn’t know what to say. This was a mess, and she had a feeling it was all of her own making, which made it feel even more impossible to admit.

So she continued working, continued pretending that everything was fine, and continued feeling worse with every passing minute.

* * *

Nicole’s fingers were so cold she could barely feel them as she and Henry finished loading the last of the equipment into his truck, but she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt quite this satisfied with a day’s work. Her feet were sore from trudging across snowy lawns in the heavy boots that she wasn’t used to yet, her hair was in a frizzy ponytail instead of the usual polished style she kept it in, and she was fairly certain she had pine sap on her coat that would never come out—which didn’t really matter, she guessed, because it was the kind of heavy Carhartt work jacket that she’d never have worn in a million years before this.

And yet, she was grinning.

The day had been better than she could possibly have expected. After years of managing a stuffy office, in recycled heating and air conditioning, juggling schedules and meetings and project timelines and helping with pitches and fielding client calls, she couldn’t have imagined how good it would feel to be out in the crisp, fresh, cold air, seeing something so beautiful come together with her own two hands. When they finished an installation, the transformation was instant and magical: dark houses suddenly glowing with warmth, bare trees becoming sculptures of light, turning from everyday to enchanting with the flip of a switch.

“I can’t believe how happy Mrs. Calvin was when she saw her house,” Nicole said, climbing into the passenger seat and immediately regretting the loss of warmth from moving around. “Did you see her face when we turned on those lights?”

Henry smiled as he started the engine, and Nicole noticed that some of the tension he’d been carrying around for days seemed to have eased. “She’s been talking about having her Victorian wrapped in lights for three years. Her late husband always said it was too much work, but she never stopped wanting it.”

Nicole had almost teared up herself when she’d seen Mrs. Calvin’s reaction, her hands flying to her mouth and her eyes misty as her house had transformed into a Christmas card. She’d been so joyful, and Nicole had felt a sense of satisfaction and purpose that she’d always thought she’d had before—but she realized she hadn’t known was actually missing.

“You know,” she said, flexing her fingers to restore feeling, “when you first hired me, I thought this would just be a temporary office-type job to keep me busy. Something to pay the bills while I figured out my next move. Managing your schedule and such, like what you had me doing the first couple of days.”

Henry glanced over at her as they pulled into the shop’s parking area. “And now?”

“Now I’m starting to think you got a lot more than you bargained for with me,” Nicole said with a laugh. “I mean, how many assistants show up in heels and business suits for ladder work?”

“Not many,” Henry admitted, his tone amused. “None at all, actually. Although I have to say, you’ve surprised me. I wasn’t sure you’d make it through the first day, but you’ve really risen to the occasion.”

The praise warmed her more than it probably should have. After the collapse of her marriage, having to come to terms with her daughter having her own life now and not coming home for the holidays, losing her job that she’d given her all to for fifteen years— it felt incredible to hear that she was actually good at something, even something as unexpected as Christmas light installation.

As they parked behind the shop and began the process of unloading and organizing equipment for the next day, Nicole found herself studying Henry’s profile in the dim light from the street. He looked tired, and he was always quiet, but she found herself wondering more about him. Did he have someone to go home to? Was he looking forward to the holidays surrounded by family?

“Thanks for your help,” Henry said as he took a ladder off the back of the truck. “You’ve definitely made me realize how much I did need an assistant. I appreciate you working as hard as you do.”

“Just part of my job,” Nicole said with a smile, taking down a stack of unused lights. She paused, then carried the lights into the shop before coming back out to help Henry store the ladders.

“Are you ready for Christmas?” she asked impulsively as they finished securing the last of the ladders.

The question seemed to catch Henry off guard, and his smile faded slightly. “Ready for Christmas,” he repeated slowly, then shrugged. “I suppose I’m as ready as I ever am these days.”

Something in his tone made Nicole pause in the doorway of the shop, studying his face more carefully. “That doesn’t sound very enthusiastic for someone who makes Christmas magic for a living.”

Henry was quiet for a long moment, wrapping an extension cord into a perfect loop. He was focused on it as if it were the most important task he’d done all day, and when he finally spoke, his voice was tinged with what Nicole thought was definitely sadness.

“Since my wife Daisy died, I haven’t been much into the holidays,” he admitted. “It’s a busy time of year for me, obviously, but it can be very lonesome. I’ve worked alone since she died. Easier than finding someone who… fits.”

Nicole’s eyes widened, and she immediately wondered if she should have pried. She was tempted to ask more questions, but she wasn’t sure how it would be received. They were employer and employee, after all, and from Henry’s tone, she didn’t think he was very inclined to talk about it.