I don’t bother correcting Willow because she’s not wrong. I may not care about decorating, but I care about Ginger and helping her.
“Nina, don’t tell anyone about my skills. I’ve got a reputation to protect.”
She laughs and goes back to sorting ornaments. I finish the final touches, making sure the garland is pressed into each hook and that it hangs evenly on both sides. White lights are woven into the greenery, so I climb down and plug it in.
Nina squeals. “Yay! That looks nice.”
I step back to take a look, and nod. “It does. Too bad they’re not colored lights.”
Nina gasps, as if that’s an outrageous statement. “Coloredlights?”
“Yeah. What’s wrong with that?”
“White lights are classier.”
I laugh. “Who said we were classy?”
“No one’s ever accused you of that,” Willow jests.
“Or you,” I fire back.
Willow shrugs. “Guilty.”
“Well, I know white lights look better in a business setting because they complement their surroundings and don’t compete with them,” Nina says.
“I’ll take your word for it. What’s next?” I ask.
Nina hands me a shoebox with snowflake ornaments of varying sizes. “Hang those from the top of the garland, please.”
“Gotcha.” I climb back on the ladder.
“Make sure they’re evenly spaced,” Nina instructs.
“I’ll do my best.” I start at one side and work my way across, trying to place them at equal distances. “How’s that look?”
“Great,” Willow says.
“Not so fast.” Nina halts me from climbing down. “The second from the right needs to shift to the left a half inch or so.”
I move it over and wait for further instructions.
“All set,” Nina says. “It looks very professional.”
“Thanks.” I brush glitter from my hands and glance toward the kitchen, waiting for Ginger to appear, but she doesn’t.
“How are you at untangling lights?” Willow asks, sighing dramatically.
“Better than you, apparently. Why don’t you give me those before you strangle yourself?”
She laughs and hands them over. I make quick work of untangling the mess. “What do you think about hanging these around the front counter?”
Nina wrinkles her nose. “Probably not a good idea. Customers lean against it, and the lights will be falling off.”
“Huh. I didn’t think of that,” I say.
“That’s what I’m here for,” Nina replies, looking pleased.
“Damn, for someone who supposedly doesn’t like holiday decorating, Ginger owns a suspicious amount of stuff,” Willow points out.
