Jackson was about halfway along the roofline, stringing a second line of warm white lights. At the market, Vanessa had thought it would look crisp and elegant, but now, looking at it again, she felt her heart sink as she realized that it was going to ultimately look underwhelming.
There were already the same lights around the windows, the porch, and threaded through the trees, but it looked… plain. She bit her lip, wondering how exactly she was going to pretend that she was happy with it.
“Jackson,” she called up to him, trying to keep her voice cheerful. “I brought you a snack.”
He looked down from his perch on the ladder, his face lighting up when he saw the muffin and milk. “Perfect timing. I was just thinking about taking a break.” He climbed down carefully, accepting the plate and glass with a grin on his face. “These smell incredible. You’ve really mastered the gingerbread thing.”
“Thanks,” Vanessa said absently, but her attention was already drifting back to the house. She took several steps backward, trying to get a better perspective on Jackson’s decorating efforts.
The lights were beautiful, warm and welcoming, but as Vanessa surveyed the overall effect, she knew she wasn’t doing a great job of concealing her disappointment. Compared to what she’d been envisioning, and especially compared to what their neighbors were clearly planning, their house looked almost bare.
“It’s very nice,” she said carefully, trying to inject enthusiasm into her voice. “Very… tasteful.”
Jackson paused in the middle of taking a bite of muffin, studying her expression as he raised an eyebrow. “But?”
“There’s no but,” Vanessa said quickly. “I appreciate all the work you’re putting into this. Really, I do.”
“Vanessa.” Jackson set down the plate and moved closer to her, his thumb touching the center of her chin gently. “You’re disappointed. I can see it written all over your face.”
She sighed, knowing there was no point in trying to hide her feelings from him. “I’m not disappointed inyou,” she said quickly. “You did a great job with what we picked. It’s just not…” She trailed off, trying to think of how to phrase it, and she saw Jackson following her gaze to the houses on either side of them.
“Ah, I think I see the problem,” Jackson said ruefully. “I like to deck out the diner with a bunch of decorations every Christmas, but putting together a fancy,organizeddisplay isn’tquite my forte. I’m more of a ‘throw a bunch of things up and hope it looks good’ kind of guy. Not a professional decorator.”
Vanessa’s eyes widened as a sudden inspiration struck her. “That’s it!” she exclaimed, spinning around to face Jackson with sudden excitement. “That’s the answer!”
“What’s the answer?” Jackson asked, looking slightly alarmed by her sudden burst of energy. “You want me to put up a bunch more random lights like I do at the diner?”
“Well… no.” She chuckled, then grinned at him. “But you made a good point: you’re not a professional decorator. I think we need someone who knows what they’re doing and has all the right equipment.” Giving him a quick kiss, she turned and headed toward her car, her mind racing with possibilities. “I’ll be right back, okay? Don’t go anywhere! And make sure to leave a muffin for me!”
“Vanessa, wait—” Jackson called after her, but she was already climbing into her car and starting the engine.
As she pulled out of the driveway, Vanessa could see Jackson in her rearview mirror, standing in their front yard with the half-eaten muffin still in his hand, looking equal parts amused and concerned.
She drove all the way to Henry’s house, where she had a feeling he’d be in his shop working on a project. He worked regular hours and then was on-call the rest of the time, and at this time in the evening, she knew she’d probably catch him rewiring an antique lamp or something like that.
Sure enough, as she pulled up in the driveway, she saw him in the garage with the door open despite the chill, working at his table. She killed the engine and stepped out, waving as she walked up the drive, too excited to worry about the fact that he was definitely off the clock.
She had no idea if he had the time to take on her project. But she knew he loved this time of year and working on the townChristmas displays, and it would be a huge coup if she could get him to work on her house. She wondered if anyone else on Birch Street had managed to snag him first, and if it would be a conflict of interest.
Henry looked up as he heard her footsteps, his eyebrows rising. He was in his early fifties, with graying brown hair and that kind of workman’s rugged complexion that was lightly lined for his age. He waved to Vanessa, setting down his tools as she approached, looking slightly puzzled as to why she was there.
“Everything all right?” he called out, pulling off his gloves and walking toward her. “Is there some kind of electrical emergency at home? Or the diner?”
“Oh no, nothing like that,” Vanessa said quickly. “I’m so sorry to bother you in your off-hours. I know this is presumptuous, but I was hoping I could talk to you about a potential project?” She bit her lip, looking at him hopefully.
Henry cocked his head curiously. “Sure,” he said finally. “Come on in, it’s warmer in here.”
There was a space heater set up next to the worktable, she saw. The interior of Henry’s shop was exactly what Vanessa would have expected—meticulously organized, with tools and components arranged in careful rows along the walls. Everything was clean and functional, with a few personal touches: a display of vintage electrical fixtures that had been restored to beautiful condition, and several framed photographs of houses decorated with elaborate light displays that were clearly examples of Henry’s work. She wondered if her house would be up there, after this year.
“What kind of project did you have in mind?” Henry asked, gesturing for her to take a seat in a worn leather chair near his workbench.
Vanessa took a deep breath, trying to organize her thoughts into a coherent explanation. “Well, you probablyknow that Jackson and I bought the house on Birch Street a few months ago. And I’ve just learned about the annual Christmas decorating competition that the whole neighborhood participates in.”
Henry nodded silently.
“The thing is,” Vanessa continued, feeling slightly foolish but pressing on, “I really want our house to look amazing. I want to fit in with the neighborhood, to show that we’re committed to being part of the community. But Jackson and I, well, we’re not exactly experts when it comes to Christmas light displays.” She bit her lip, smothering a small smile. “He’s more of a ‘throw a bunch of things up and hope it looks good’ kind of guy. His words.”
Henry chuckled. “That’s true. I’ve seen the diner.”
