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But this year’s workload was impossible to manage alone. He didn’t want to have to turn down jobs—he could recommend electricians from nearby towns, of course, but they often charged much higher rates and he personally didn’t think their work was of as high a quality. He didn’t want to disappoint the town’s residents, and he certainly didn’t want them to be overcharged for work he could do better.

So he needed to take action. There was a small stack of fliers sitting next to him that he planned to distribute during his lunch break, putting out a call for a holiday assistant, no electric experience necessary. He could do all of the electric work being offered, he thought, if he had someone to handle all of the backend paperwork and managing schedules and appointments. That administrative work took up a lot of his time, and he didn’t enjoy it, anyway. That, at least, he thought he could handle delegating.

He heard the sound of snow being stamped off of boots as a customer came in, and he looked up to see Nolan McCoy walking in the door, his mail bag slung over his shoulder. Henry gave a friendly wave—he liked the younger man quite a bit. Nolan was a friendly face, without a tendency to give advice about what he thought Henry should be doing with his life as a widower.

“Quite an operation you’ve got going here,” Nolan said with a chuckle, picking his way carefully through the maze of boxes. “Looks like Santa’s workshop exploded.”

Henry gave him a rueful smile. “Something like that. I’m drowning in requests this year. Finally bit the bullet and decided to hire some help. I’m going to do a circuit handing out some flyers later today.”

Nolan glanced at the stack with an approving nod. “About time. I was wondering how long you’d try to handle all this solo. It’s a lot for one person.”

“Work keeps me busy,” Henry replied, which was his standard deflection. And it was true. It also gave him something to bring him joy during the Christmas season, when all the songs were about family and every commercial featured happy families gathered around trees. He might not have that any longer, but he could make sure that other families had the best Christmases he could possibly give them with his expertise.

Nolan nodded, setting a stack of mail down. “Well, I hope you find someone good. I imagine the town might riot without you to do their lighting displays. If I hear about anyone looking for a position, I’ll be sure to mention yours.”

“Thanks,” Henry said appreciatively. While Nolan was often teased for being a bit of a Grinch—he didn’t enjoy the holiday season, and wasn’t bashful about saying so—Henry found him to be a good, kind man. He was a good neighbor and friend, even if he hadn’t yet found his Christmas spirit.

As Nolan headed out to finish his mail circuit, the shop fell quiet again except for the soft hum of the space heater in the corner. Henry continued his sorting, separating lights by color and size, checking each strand for damaged bulbs or frayed wires. The work was meditative, and his mind wandered a little to past Christmases as he sorted out the strings.

He couldn’t help but recall the first Christmas he and Daisy had spent together as a married couple, after moving into their little cottage. She’d wanted to make a mark on their neighborhood with a spectacular lighting display, and they’d spent three weekends stringing lights, with Henry moving them again and again to suit her vision. He was fairly sure that was most of the reason he’d taken on Vanessa and Jackson’s lighting project last Christmas—it had been their first Christmas as a married couple in their new home, and Vanessa’s need to put up a light display worthy of their street had reminded him of those happier times.

He glanced at the clock as he finished checking another string, and decided it was time to grab some lunch and take a walk around town putting the fliers up. He grabbed his heavy coat from the hook by the door, stuffing several copies into his pocket along with a small stapler and some pushpins.

The cold hit him immediately as he stepped outside. It was a sunshiny late November day, with the remnants of the recent snowfall still frosting the ground. The town was already deep in holiday preparations, with half-finished displays all over that gave the main square and the businesses a sort of halfway-to-Christmas feeling. The air smelled clean and fresh, like pine and the faint whiff of delicious wintry food from the nearby tavern and diner, and Henry considered what he might like for lunch as he headed out. Jackson always had something good and comforting on special, and he thought he could go for some chili or a hot sandwich.

The sidewalks were busier than usual for a Thursday morning, shoppers hurrying between stores with packages tucked under their arms and steam rising from their coffee cups in the frigid air. The holiday shopping season was in full swing, with people coming in from other towns to enjoy the rustic, festive atmosphere of Fir Tree Grove for their shopping and vacations.

Henry stopped by the diner first, where the town’s bulletin board was located. The cork surface was already crowded with holiday announcements—notifications about the upcoming Christmas tree lighting ceremony, advertisements for local craft fairs, and several competing snow removal services.

Henry found a small space near the center and carefully pinned up his flier before heading inside, seeing that Jackson’s daily special was just what he’d felt like. A hot turkey sandwich with cranberry sauce, herbed cream cheese, onion, and a side of gravy for dipping, along with fries or a bowl of pumpkin bisque for a side. His stomach growled as he took a seat on one of the stools at the U-shaped counter, and put in an order for the special.

While he enjoyed his sandwich and soup, which was every bit as comforting and delicious as he’d hoped, Henry mulled over the thought of bringing someone else in to his business. It meant trusting the day-to-day running of it to someone else, but he thought it probably wouldn’t be a stranger. Most likely a resident in need of work, a wife or mother who wanted to pick up some hours away from home, or someone’s college-aged son or daughter who wanted some work while home for the holidays. Still, he was used to keeping to himself mostly, and it felt a little unnerving to think about having someone else around so much.

If it would let him focus more on the actual work of putting up lights though, it would be worth it, he told himself. And change wasn’t a bad thing. Sometimes it was just what was needed.

When he’d finished his lunch, he headed back down Main Street toward his shop, making a few stops along the way. Cindy at the Holly and Ivy Market was happy to put up a flyer for him, as was the general store and owner of the bookstore, Cheerful Chapters. He paused for a moment to take in the elaborate holiday library display in the bookstore’s front window, before suggesting that the addition of some white Christmas lights around it would really set it off.

He chuckled to himself as he left, realizing he might have just taken on another job. He really did need someone to pick up that flier and apply for the job. Clearly, he wasn’t capable of slowing down on his own.

Just as he passed Artisan Chocolates, the door swung open. He heard a feminine voice call his name, and turned to see Imogen Sanders, the owner of the chocolate shop, waving at him. She looked as if she’d been busy all day, her chestnut hair was escaping from its high ponytail, and her apron was covered in chocolate and cocoa powder.

“Henry!” She called out. “I saw you out and walking around a bit ago. It’s freezing out. Why don’t you come in for a cup of hot cocoa to warm yourself up?”

As much as he felt as if he should probably get back to the shop, the thought of a hot cup of Imogen’s delicious cocoa was too tempting to resist.

He turned with a rueful chuckle and followed her inside, into the warm shop that smelled like sugar and whipped cream and cocoa. It was a sweet tooth’s dream inside, wall to wall cases of rich truffles and fudge and chocolate bark, along with a retro hot chocolate counter on one side that served a variety of flavors. Some of the truffles, especially, looked more like tiny pieces of art than candy, he thought.

“Mr. Henry!” A small voice piped up from behind the counter, and Henry smiled as ten-year-old Katie Sanders popped her head up, her face lit up enthusiastically. There was a smear of chocolate on one cheek, and Henry couldn’t help but smile at her.

“Hello there, Katie,” Henry said, giving her a friendly wave. “Have you been helping your mom with the chocolate?”

“I got to stir the pot!” Katie announced proudly, holding up hands that were very stained with chocolate. “And I only licked the spoon three times, which Mama says is very good self-control.”

Imogen laughed as she went behind the hot-chocolate counter, reaching for a ceramic mug painted with dancing snowmen from the stack next to one of the large dispensers filled with ready-made cocoa.

“She’s been my official taste-tester today. We’re experimenting with a new peppermint bark recipe for the Christmas rush.” She poured a mug of cocoa for Henry, adding several tiny marshmallows and a flourish of whipped cream before studding the cream with more small marshmallows. “Here you go.”

Henry accepted the steaming mug Imogen offered him and took a sip with a satisfied hum as he tasted it. It tasted rich and creamy, with a hint of cinnamon in the chocolate. “This is incredible,” he said, taking another sip. “No wonder you stay so busy this time of year.”