Knot Beneath the Mistletoe

2

RUBY

W hoever decided Christmas lights should have minds of their own deserves coal in their stocking—for eternity.

My hands tremble as I wrestle with a tangled string of white lights, which somehow managed to knot itself between my car and my booth along Main Street at the Whispering Grove Winter Craft Beer Festival. The trembling isn't just from the cold or from half the night's sleepless baking session. It's the kind that starts in your bones when you know you're running out of time.