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“I’m taking Evie’s side,” Grace says.
We joke some more, and I give everyone a million more thanks before they leave. They’re going to hang out at Brooke and Ian’s place tonight, but they promise Evie to come see our Christmas Light Spectacular the next night.
When I close the door behind them and lean against it, I narrow my eyes at Evie. “I can’t believe you kept that a secret from me. If you’re getting good at keeping secrets, I’m in trouble.”
“I didn’t know,” she said. “I found out when Unc brought me back this morning.”
There’s less than two hours until sunset, so we spend the time taking a walk over to Main Street and admiring the holiday displays in the windows. Evie’s begging to see mine at Handy’s, but I tell her we have to save the best for last. We check out the bakery, stationery, salon, dress boutique, and yarn shop windows, each doing something new and lovely.
We stop in the pet store so Evie can admire the fish. She doesn’t know it yet, but I’ve been saving to get her a fifty-gallon tank with some tetras for Christmas, and Santa will be supplying her with her most favorite fish tank castle in the store.
At last, after we’ve explored all the other shop windows, I lead her up the street to Handy’s, making her walk backward so she can’t peek. Then I turn her around.
Her eyes glow and her grin is huge.
“I know the story, Mama!”
I’ve drilled this into her ever since I started doing the store’s windows two years ago. Every display must tell a story with the merchandise that will tempt people to come in and buy it because they can see themselves in the story, or because they want to be in the story.
For example, spring is an appeal straight to the ladies, with brightly colored watering cans, floral print gloves, and charming sun hats, all worked into a scene filled with mischievous bunnies—garden statues—poking their heads around cute picket fences and shiny galvanized pails bristling with the gardening tools. We sold out of everything in the window in two weeks, including bunny statues.
Bill had only shaken his head. “First time I’ve ever seen people putting rabbits in their garden on purpose.”
Christmas isthetime to shine, to use all my creativity to make magic with the homely merchandise in Handy’s.
I crouch beside Evie. “Tell me the story.”
“Someone whited out the whole world and Santa and the elves have to save it!”
“Very good, honey. That’s exactly the story I wanted to tell.” Almost everything in the window is white with a few important exceptions. What should be a normal-looking living room decked out for the holidays is instead all white. A white Christmas tree, white presents, white walls, white rug, a sleeping white dog. And it’s flat white too. No sparkle, shimmer, or shine.
In the middle of the “living room,” a red ladder is set up, the shape of it reminiscent of a Christmas tree. It’s a cheerful pop of color, and I’ve laid a shelf across each rung, so that looking into the window, the ladder resembles the letter “A” but if you drew the crossline four times instead of once. Each side of the shelf boasts something for the project it becomes apparent is underway: paint cans on one, a pile of artfully arranged painter’s tape on another, and so on.
Then, off to the left, three elves huddle at work in a corner while a life-sized Santa in the most gorgeous red suit looks on in approval. So far, they’ve only painted a small corner of the living room, but everywhere “their” brushes have touched, warm colors bring the stark room to life.
“Everyone who sees this window today will think, ‘Hm. Interesting. But Handy’s had a better window last year.’ But guess what happens when they see it tomorrow?”
“What?” Evie asks, her excitement making me smile even more.
“Magically, those elves will have gotten to work all night, and tomorrow, even more of that room will be painted. And even more the day after that. Until guess what happens on the night of Christmas Town?”
Her eyes are huge. “The whole room will be painted, and the story will be done?”
“Exactly! It’ll take everyone a few days to realize what’s happening, but instead of coming to see the window once, they’ll want to come see it every day, and every day there will be new supplies on the ladder for them to consider buying.”
She throws her arms around my neck. “You’re the smartest mama!”
“And you are the very best girl.”
I hug her, so happy in this moment that having Evie pressed against me is the only thing keeping my heart from exploding out of my chest. I’m not sure what I’ve done to deserve this kid, my job, or the friends and family who performed a minor miracle in my living room today, but I’m so incredibly grateful for all of it.
When Evie strains ever-so-slightly away from me, done with the hug, I let her go and stand. “Should we go home and turn on the lights for night one of the Christmas Spectacular?”
“Let’s do it!” she shouts.
“You stay on the sidewalk,” I say when we get there. “I’ll flip the switch on the count of three.” I’ve wired them to be controlled with the porch light, which took a lot of YouTube tutorials, swearing when Evie wasn’t around, and the equivalent of a 401K in extension cords. I open the door and reach inside to the switch. “Count us down, Evie!”
“Three, two, ONE!”
