The Mechanics of Mistletoe - Liz Isaacson Page 0,67

see why we need it up in October. There’s plenty of time between Thanksgiving and Christmas, but don’t even think about telling Judge that.”

“I would never,” Sammy said, and they laughed together. The road was graded and well-kept, though gravel, and Sammy lost a few minutes as they rumbled along. She’d had a long week in the shop, with several accidents that had brought her and the boys more business. People in Three Rivers didn’t seem to know how to drive in the rain, and she hoped it wouldn’t be one of those winters with a lot of freezing temperatures, because she knew water became ice then.

“Are you lookin’?” Bear asked. “You can see the lights.”

She pulled her eyes open, and sure enough, the sky flashed with blue, red, white, green, yellow, and purple lights. “Seems like it’s working.” A sense of magic filled the air, and Sammy remembered a time when she’d loved the holiday season.

Her mother made waffles and sausage on Christmas Day, and Sammy could practically smell the maple syrup. One of her aunts had gone to Vermont one year, and she’d brought back the genuine New England maple syrup, and Sammy thought she’d died and gone to heaven.

A smile filled her soul and leaked onto her face, because she knew in that moment that Heather and Patrick had been enjoying waffles and sausage in heaven.

“What other traditions do you have?” she asked as Bear made the sharp left into the long driveway of the ranch home.

“Let’s see,” he said with a sigh. “Mother makes fudge and caramels every year. My father used to drive her around to all her friends and neighbors to deliver it.” He spoke with a warm tone, and Sammy basked in another good memory though it wasn’t hers.

“My grandmother used to crochet a new ornament for the tree every year,” he said. “We still set up a memorial tree in the homestead to honor her, my dad, my Uncle Bull, and all the other Glover ancestors.”

“I love that,” Sammy said, the idea rooting into her mind. She and Lincoln should do something to honor Heather and Patrick. Why had she never thought of that before?

“We use all those ornaments, and pure white lights, and it’s almost like Grandmother is there.”

“I’m sure she is.”

“You’ll come this year, right?” Bear asked, glancing at her. He came to a stop in front of the house, the light display spectacular when not blocked by trees.

“I’m sure I can,” Sammy said. “Just tell me when.”

“We usually do it as soon as the harvest is over and winterizing is done. Probably in two or three weeks.” He put the truck in park and leaned back. “I just need to set the radio, and we can watch the show.”

He fiddled with the buttons until he got to the right station, and sure enough, Christmas music filled the cab. The lights on the porch railings and roof, those outlining the windows, and those on every lawn ornament that had been set up pulsed with the beat of the music.

Joy filled Sammy, and she couldn’t look everywhere fast enough. “This is great.”

“We’re supposed to watch the whole thing,” Bear said. “And give feedback.”

The show lasted almost fifteen minutes and spanned five popular Christmas songs. At the end, Sammy actually clapped, her laughter bubbling out of her mouth. “That really was great. I have no other feedback.”

“Yes, well, he could do better with the reindeer on the Rudolph song,” Bear said, tapping on his phone. “You can barely tell that they’re not all lit up.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, surprised but giggling. “You’re going to tell him that?”

“Yes,” Bear said seriously. He finished his text and looked at her. “You’ve met Judge, right? He’ll want to know. That’s why he invited you out here first. So you could tell him what needs to be fixed before everyone else comes.”

“Everyone else?” Sammy asked.

“The whole town drives around to these things,” he said, looking back out the windshield. “Last year, Judge got second place.”

“You’re kidding. There’s a contest for this?”

“It’s pretty new,” Bear said. “Started maybe five years ago.”

No wonder Sammy didn’t know about it. Heather had died five years ago, and Sammy didn’t remember a whole lot from that time.

“The blue lights need to come on quicker on this part too,” he said. “See the snowflakes? They’re behind.”

Sammy saw them, and now that she wasn’t as mesmerized with the novelty of the whole thing, she could see that the blue lights were half