Chapter 6
Ugh.
Lili stared into the small closet at her limited clothing options. Miles asked her to help him judge the Christmas light contest. Tonight. In thirty minutes.
She FaceTimed Rose. Her sister answered on the second ring, her dear face filling the screen.
“Hey! What’s—”
“Miles invited me to judge the Christmas lights contest with him, and I don’t know what to wear, and I said yes without thinking, and now I’m—”
“Wait.” Rose gave an enormous grin. “Miles asked you out?”
“No, it’s not like that. He has to judge it as the town doctor and asked if I could come help.”
“Uh-huh. And when did this happen?”
“At lunch. We ate together, and he brought extra sandwiches, and then he asked if I wanted to come and...” The words tumbled out. “Rose, what am I doing?”
“You’re going on a date.”
“It’s not a date. It’s a town obligation.”
“That he invited you to join him for. After bringing you a sandwich.” Rose leaned closer to the screen. “Lili, that’s a date.”
“It’s not…I can’t…it’s too soon.”
“Show me the options.”
Lili flipped the camera, held up the green floral print pullover. Then a red sweater. Then a gray striped button-down.
“Red.”
“It’s not too much?”
“It’s Christmas lights judging in Kringle. Don’t overthink it.” Rose’s voice softened. “You’re really nervous about this.”
“I don’t know if I can trust myself. What if I’m reading this wrong? What if he’s merely being nice?”
“Then you spent an evening looking at Christmas lights with a fun guy. Worst-case scenario, you have a pleasant time.” Rose paused. “But Lili? I don’t think you’re misreading it.”
After they hung up, Lili pulled on the red sweater over thick black leggings. She brushed her hair, added a touch of mascara and some lipstick—not makeup-makeup, just enough so she didn’t appear washed out.
A knock at her door.
He was here.
A little thrill ran through her. She grabbed her coat and scarf from the closet. Glanced down and saw it.
A moth hole. Right in the center of the sweater. Small but visible.
As she stared at it, the hole seemed to grow larger, pulling her back to the past. Her gaze fixed, and she was no longer in the cozy little apartment. She jettisoned back to their lavish mansion in Highland Park.
David cornered her in the bedroom. “What are you doing?”
She blinked, terror gripping her as she ran through the list of her possible sins. “Wh-what do you mean?”
“You’re not going out dressed like that.”
“Like what?” The outfit she wore was acceptable. Demure, even. Was that the problem? Did he want her to dress sexier since he was showing her off to his wealthy client at the most exclusive steakhouse in town? “I...I...what’s wrong with what I have on?”
Mistake. Huge one.
“What’s wrong?” David shoved his face in hers, spittle flying. “What’s wrong?”
She cowered. He reached out, grabbed the front of her cashmere blouse with both hands, and ripped it clear down the middle. He shook the remnants of the garment in her face.
He poked his finger through the tiny speck of a moth hole, enlarging it.
Another knock. Louder.
Lili jumped, pulse racing. Her breath came fast and shallow. The walls of her apartment swam back into focus. Not the Dallas bedroom. Not David’s face inches from hers.
Kringle. December. Her new place. Small. Safe. The red sweater soft against her skin.
The moth hole.
A moth hole. Not a sin. Not a reason for abuse.
“Lili? You okay?” His voice. Concerned, not angry. Worried, not controlling.
She glanced down at the moth hole. She could tell him she needed to change, but it was a small hole, no bigger than the head of a pen tip. Barely noticeable.
And it was okay.
She was okay.
Imperfect, and that was fine.
She left her coat unbuttoned and opened the door.
* * *
Miles stood on Lili’s landing, clutching the packet Brenda had thrust at him that afternoon. It contained the contestants’ addresses, scoring sheet, and judging criteria.
The door opened.
Lili stood there in a lovely red sweater and black leggings, coat unbuttoned, cheeks flushed. She appeared nervous. And beautiful. “Hi.”
“Hey.” His brain chose that moment to forget every other word in the English language. “You look…that’s a flattering color. On you. Red.”
Smooth, Miles.
“Thanks. Ready for lumens arguments?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” He waited while she locked her door.
He offered his elbow, and she took it. That set his heart thumping harder. Miles escorted her down the stairs to his awaiting car.
“Fair warning. Mrs. Kleinhopper will try to bribe you with cookies. Don’t accept them. It’s considered collusion.”
“Collusion?”
“Our light competition is cutthroat.”
“Sounds like it.”
They reached his truck, and he opened her door, catching a whiff of something floral as she climbed in. Her shampoo, maybe. He closed the door before he could do something stupid like stand there inhaling.
Get it together.
He rounded the truck, slid behind the wheel, and started the engine. He set the packet on the console between them.
“So how does this work?” she asked.
“We drive to each house on the list, look at their display, make notes. At the end, we tally scores and announce the winner.”
“What are we scoring?”
“Creativity, execution, holiday spirit, and something called ‘overall wow factor,’ which I’m pretty sure Brenda made up.” He turned down Maple Street, where the first house waited. “Last year, someone got points deducted for having their inflatable Santa positioned too near the nativity scene.”
She laughed. “Positioned how?”
“Let’s just say Santa photobombed baby Jesus.”
The first house belonged to the Conners. Tasteful white lights outlined the roofline, a simple wreath on the door, elegant but understated. And wire dogs. Lots of dogs. A whole pack of them outlined in tinkle lights.
“Chloe Conner is a vet.”
“I would never have guessed.” Lili laughed. “It is different.”
“Wait. What do I write?”
“You’re asking me?”
“You’re my helper.”
“I thought I was moral support, not a de facto judge.”
They stared at the scoring sheet together. Creativity: 1-10. Execution: 1-10. Holiday Spirit: 1-10. Overall Wow Factor: 1-10.
“Seven?” Miles asked.
“For which category?”
“All of them?”
“That seems excessive for white lights, a wreath, and a dog posse.”
“Five?”
“Now you’re underselling it.”
Evan Conner emerged from his front door, waving. Miles rolled down the window.
“Evening, Doc. What do you think?”
“Looks spectacular, Evan.” Miles rolled up the window as Evan went back inside. He stared at Lili. “We’re terrible at this.”
“We haven’t even started scoring yet.”
“I’m preemptively terrible.”
The next house belonged to the Portsmiths, the ones accused of illegal LED specifications last year. Lights covered everything. Three different nativity scenes, a light-up reindeer herd, inflatable snowmen, and a projection system casting snowflakes onto the house.
Mrs. Portsmith appeared in the doorway with a thermos.
“Don’t take it.” Miles shook his head.
“What?”
“Whatever she’s offering, it’s a trap.”
The woman approached the truck. Miles rolled down the window.
“Dr. Ellis. And you must be the new nurse. I brought you some hot chocolate—a little thank you for taking the time to judge tonight.”
“That’s kind, but we can’t accept—”
“Oh, of course, of course. The rules. I understand. But truly, no strings attached.” Mrs. Portsmith winked.
“Sorry.” Miles shrugged.
“No worries,” Mrs. Portsmith went back inside.
“Definitely strings.” Lili giggled, and it was a glorious sound.
“Welcome to Great Kringle Light Fight.”
They continued down the list. The Rowlands had a musical display synchronized to the Trans-Siberian Orchestra.
The Suttons countered with a life-sized Santa’s workshop.
The Kincaids transformed their yard into a winter wonderland with light-up penguins, polar bears, and an igloo the kids could walk through.
At each house, contestants appeared with offerings—hot cider, candy canes, cookies, and helpful insights about their neighbors’ displays (“Did you notice the Kleinhoppers’ inflatable Grinch has a leak?”).
“This is insane,” Lili said after the tenth house.
“I tried to warn you.”
“No, I mean—” She gestured at the neighborhood. “This is wonderful. Everyone cares so much.”
“Too much, some would say.”
“Maybe. But there are worse things than caring too much about Christmas lights.”
Something in her voice made him glance over. She was looking out the window at the displays, her expression soft, wistful.
“Did you do this when you were growing up? Drive around looking at lights?”
“Sometimes. My parents would take us around Dallas neighborhoods when we were kids—hot chocolate in travel mugs, Christmas music on the radio. Rose was always so excited she bounced in her seat. I pretended to be too old for it, but I loved it too.”
“You don’t do it anymore?”
“My parents died when I was in college. Plane crash.” She said it matter-of-factly, the way people did when they told a story too many times. “Rose had just graduated high school. After that, Christmas felt different.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It was a long time ago.” She sipped her cocoa. “Rose tries to keep the traditions going with her kids—the lights, the cookies, all of it. I think it helps her feel connected to our parents.”
Miles wanted to say something profound, something comforting. But he knew from experience there was nothing to say that didn’t sound hollow.
“That must have been hard, losing them so young.”
“Yeah.” She glanced at him. “It was.”
The silence between them felt different now. Heavier. More honest.
They finished the last house on the list, and Miles checked his watch. Seven-forty. “We announce the winner at eight.”
“Where does that happen?”
“Town square. There’s a little ceremony. Extremely official.” He tried to make it sound less embarrassing than it was. “Brenda sets up a podium.”
“A podium?”
“I told you. This isn’t child’s play.”
They drove to the town square, where a small crowd gathered. Brenda stood by a microphone that crackled with feedback as she welcomed everyone.
“There he is.” Brenda waved. “Dr. Ellis, come on up.”
Miles climbed out of the truck. Lili followed.
He made his way to the podium, clipboard in hand, aware of the entire town watching. This was the part he hated. Public speaking.
“Good evening, everyone,” he said into the microphone. More feedback. “Thank you all for your incredible displays this year. As always, the judging was difficult because every home brought something unique.”
He glanced at his notes and the scores he and Lili tallied on the drive to the square.
“This year’s winner, for creativity, execution, and overall holiday spirit, is...” He paused for effect, the way Gee always had. “The Kincaid family.”
Applause erupted. Mindy Kincaid burst into tears. Dr. Eric Kincaid, in the same vet practice as Chloe Conner, pumped his fist in the air. Their toddler, dressed in a polar bear suit, hopped up and down.
Miles handed them their certificate. It was a piece of cardstock Brenda printed that morning, along with a letter from the mayor’s office stating the town would cover the winner’s electric bill for December.
Miles posed for photos with the Kincaids while someone from the Kringle Chronicle snapped pictures. Around them, other contestants offered congratulations, some genuine, some through gritted teeth.
After the crowd dispersed, Miles found Lili waiting by the town Christmas tree.
“You looked very official up there,” she said.
“I was terrified.”
“That too.” She smiled. “Want to get cocoa? I’m freezing.”
“Yeah. Kringle Kafe is open until nine.”
They walked across the street to the restaurant. The Kringle Kafe was warm and bright; several of the contestants had the same idea and were grabbing tables. They slid into a booth by the window.
Their server appeared, a high schooler named Sophie. “Evening. What can I get you?”
“Two hot cocoas,” Miles said. “With extra whipped cream.”
“Coming right up.”
They sat across from each other, and Miles tried not to notice how the café lights caught in Lili’s hair and made her eyes appear bluer.
“You did a terrific job tonight,” she said. “With the judging. The speech.”
“I fumbled through it.”
“You cared. That’s what mattered.” She smiled.
The cocoa arrived, topped with mounds of whipped cream. Lili took a sip and came away with cream on her nose.
Miles pulled a napkin from the dispenser, reached across the table, and dabbed it away.
Lili froze.
Too late, he realized he had touched her without permission. He jerked back, wadded the napkin in his fist. “Sorry. You had—”
“Thanks.”
Should he apologize more, or would that make it worse? They sat in silence, cocoa cooling between them. Miles’s heart stuttered.
Idiot. Too much, too fast. She was skittish for a reason, and he just crossed a line he couldn’t uncross.
“We should go.” Lili gestured toward the door.
“Yeah.” Miles left cash on the table, more than enough to cover two cocoas and a generous tip.
They stood, put on their coats, and headed for the exit.
“Dr. Ellis.” A woman in bright purple scrubs covered in cartoon reindeer waved from a nearby table. Marie Gomez, charge nurse on the children’s ward at Kringle General. She hopped up and came over. “Are you all set for next Tuesday?”
“Yes, all set. How’s Danny?” He asked about her eight-year-old son, whom he saw last week for an ear infection.
“Much better. The antibiotics did the trick. Thank you.” Marie turned to Lili. “And you must be the new nurse practitioner everyone’s talking about. Are you helping Doc Ellis pass out presents this year at our event? It’s always so much fun. We have an elf costume you can wear.”
Lili glanced at Miles, then back at Marie. “Sure. I’d love to.”
“Wonderful. The kids are going to be so excited. It means a lot to the families.”
“Six o’clock next Tuesday, December 23rd?” Miles asked.
“You got it. Thanks to you both.” Marie headed back to her table.
“She’s got youthful energy,” Lili said as Miles opened the door and they stepped out into the night.
“Yeah,” he said. “The nurses on our peds ward are the best. Kringle’s really lucky. It’s a unique place to live. Might not be as exciting as the big city, but folks here? Well, we’ve got heart.”