Chapter Eleven Building Something More Than A Float
Lydia
I woke before my alarm, already mentally sorting greenery by type and weight.
That wasn’t unusual anymore. Ever since the inn reopened, my mornings had started that way, my brain jumping ahead before my body caught up. But today had an edge to it. The float, the truck, and the parade, all the things I had agreed to before fully understanding what they would require.
That needed to change, I decided. I needed to start thinking things through before jumping in with both feet.
From downstairs came the low hum of the inn waking up.
Coffee was brewing. A cabinet opening and closing too hard.
Meri’s voice asking someone if they had checked the delivery list outside in the hallway.
Kitty’s voice, already loud, already enthusiastic, already arguing about something I couldn’t yet identify.
I lay still for a moment, staring at the ceiling, listening.
This was what responsibility sounded like now. Noise, overlap and people moving before everything was planned.
Getting up, I went through my morning routine before I pulled on jeans and a sweater then headed downstairs.
The lobby was already in motion. Jane stood near the front desk with a clipboard, hair neatly pulled back, expression focused in the way that meant she had decided today was going to go well whether it cooperated or not.
Lucy was nearby, shrugging into a coat, coffee in hand, scanning the room like she was tracking five different conversations at once.
Kitty burst out of the storage room carrying a tangled mess of green garland.
“Okay,” she announced. “We have options.”
Jane looked up. “Those aren’t options. That’s a problem.”
“They can be both,” Kitty replied cheerfully.
Meri appeared behind her, hands in the pockets of her sweater, eyes already assessing the situation. “You’re going to need more zip ties.”
I smiled despite myself.
The truck sat outside, parked where it had been the night before, solid and patient and entirely unaware of the attention it was about to receive. Seeing it in daylight made it feel more real somehow. Less like a victory and more like a responsibility.
I took a breath and clapped my hands once, softly. “Okay. Before we start—”
Kitty froze mid-step. Jane looked up. Meri turned her attention fully to me.
“I toned it down,” I said. “The float. I really did.”
Jane’s shoulders visibly relaxed. “Good.”
Kitty’s face fell. “Even more than what you said last night?.”
“The same as last night, I just want Jane and Lucy to know what we’re doing. There will be no moving parts, no tall structures. Nothing that could catch the wind or fall off and take out a spectator,” I told them.
“So,” Lucy said slowly with a grin. “You took out all the fun.”
“I took out all the lawsuits,” I replied.
Meri nodded approvingly. “Lydia is maturing.”
I rolled my eyes before stepping closer to the truck, and resting a hand lightly on the side of the bed. “Greenery along the edges, secured properly. Battery lights woven through, but nothing loose. A bench in the middle if we can anchor it safely.”
Jane tilted her head. “And signage?”
“I have the magnet signs ordered and they are supposed to arrive today,” I revealed to them. “Just the inn’s name. Maybe a wreath on the front.”
Kitty brightened slightly. “We can make a wreath.”
“We’ll need to divide tasks,” Jane responded.
I nodded. “Exactly.”
That was new for me. Saying it out loud. Naming the need for help without apologizing for it.
Kitty immediately raised her hand. “Lights.”
“Of course,” I agreed.
“Meri?” Jane prompted.
“I’ll handle securing things to the truck with ties. I will make sure nothing comes loose,” Meri volunteered
Jane nodded. “I’ll coordinate greenery.”
Lucy smiled at me over her coffee. “I’ll supervise morale.”
“That feels unnecessary,” I said.
Lucy grinned. “You say that now.”
As everyone moved into position, I stepped back, watching them work. Jane’s calm efficiency. Kitty’s uncontainable enthusiasm. Meri’s quiet precision. Lucy drifting between them, smoothing edges before they could fray, while helping.
For a moment, my instinct was to step in. To adjust, to correct, and to make the float exactly the way I had pictured it.
Instead, I stayed back and simply helped when needed.
Last night’s driving lesson floated back to me unexpectedly.
Ephram hadn’t rushed me or grabbed the wheel when I stalled. He hadn’t corrected me before I had the chance to notice the problem myself. He had given me information, then space.
Kitty tried to loop lights too high and had to redo them. Jane insisted on symmetry that no one else cared about. Meri quietly fixed three things without comment.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was working.
I moved in when needed, answering questions, offering suggestions, but I resisted the urge to control every detail. Each time I felt myself tightening, I let it go. Asked instead of instructed. Trusted instead of hovered.
By midmorning, the truck looked different. Not finished, but unmistakably warmer. Intentional. Like it belonged to us.
I was happy at the moment, tying greenery on top of already secured greenery when I noticed that Jane’s shoulders went up slightly, as if she were bracing herself.
Kitty stopped moving mid-step, garland looped over one arm, and her expression sharpened from playful to alert.
Meri’s gaze flicked past me toward the driveway.
I followed their focus and felt my stomach tighten.
Collin stepped towards the truck with the confidence of someone who believed the world should part politely for him. He was dressed as if he expected to be in a blizzard, coat, scarf wound twice around his neck, hat pulled low. The only good was that his unfortunate hair was covered.
His smile brightened the moment he realized he had our attention. He clapped his mittened hands together with a muffled sound..
“Good morning,” he called, voice too cheerful for the reception he was receiving.
“Good morning,” Jane replied automatically, the phrase coming out on instinct, like a reflex she regretted the moment it left her mouth.
Collin approached the truck with fascinated interest, eyes scanning the decorations as if he was inspecting a purchase he hadn’t decided whether to keep. He stopped beside me, close enough that I could smell his cologne, which was slightly too strong.
“I must say,” he began, “it’s remarkable what you girls have managed to do with this property.”
Girls. I felt Lucy stiffen behind me.
“We’re working hard,” I said evenly.
“Yes,” Collin said, nodding as if my statement had confirmed something he already knew. “Hard work is admirable and necessary. Especially when one is managing an investment.”
There it was. The reminder slipped in under the compliment like a needle.
Jane gave a small, polite smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Kitty’s garland tightened around her arm as her grip clenched.
Collin’s gaze slid toward the truck bed. “What is this for, precisely? Marketing.”
“It’s for the parade,” I said.
“Ah,” he said, delighted. “Yes, of course. Visibility. Community engagement. The appearance of success inspires confidence. A wise strategy.”
I had no idea how to respond to that without sounding sarcastic, which would have been satisfying but unhelpful.
Collin turned to me with sudden focus. “And you are the one spearheading this.”
“I’m coordinating,” I corrected.
His smile widened. “Coordination requires leadership and a forward-thinking mind.”
Kitty coughed, very obviously, like she was choking on the word ambition.
Jane’s eyes flicked to Kitty in warning.
Collin didn’t notice. He rarely did.
“I would like to assist,” he continued. “I have experience with public presentations.”
Lucy stepped forward slightly. “Do you?”
Collin turned his attention to her. “Indeed. I have spoken at several gatherings.”
Lucy’s smile was sharp and sweet. “That’s fascinating, but this isn’t really a speaking gig.”
I could feel the shape of the moment shifting, becoming dangerous. Not because Collin was threatening, but because he was persistent, and persistence had a way of exhausting people until they made concessions just to end the conversation.
I didn’t want to give him anything. Not a task, not a role, not a reason to linger.
“So,” Collin said, leaning closer, “tell me about your plans. Perhaps we could discuss them inside. It’s cold. You must be uncomfortable.”
I was uncomfortable, but not from the temperature.
“Actually,” Jane said quickly, stepping forward, “Lydia needs to help me measure the garland lengths.”
Her voice was calm, plausible, and urgent in a way that made it difficult to argue with without looking rude.
Collin blinked. “Measuring garland.”
“Yes,” Jane said brightly. “It’s surprisingly technical.”
Kitty’s eyes met mine, gleaming with triumph.
The pact.
I didn’t even have time to respond before Meri stepped to my side and gently took my elbow, steering me away with the smoothness of someone who had been born to execute quiet rescues.
“Come on,” she murmured. “We’re needed.”
I let myself be moved, relief hitting me like warmth.
Collin called after us. “I was only offering assistance.”
Lucy raised her coffee in his direction without turning. “We appreciate your… spirit, however we have everything under control.”
Kitty followed us a few steps, garland still wrapped around her arm like she was prepared to use it as a lasso if necessary. She leaned in close and whispered, “Extraction complete.”
I bit down on a laugh.
Meri led me to the far side of the truck, where Jane was already pretending to measure something with an intensity that would have been admirable if it wasn’t entirely fabricated.
Jane didn’t look up as she spoke. “Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I whispered back.
Kitty appeared beside us, hands on hips. “We are so good at this.”
Lucy joined us as well, her expression satisfied. “The key is speed. He’s too confident to realize he’s been redirected. Collin is going into the house to see about a radiator I told him was acting up.”
Jane exhaled slowly. “I hate that it’s necessary.”
“It’s necessary because he doesn’t understand boundaries,” Meri said simply.
I stared at the garland in Jane’s hands. “Thank you.”
Kitty waved it off. “We’re not letting him corner you. Not today.”
“Not ever,” Meri added, then picked up a zip tie and went back to securing greenery with quiet efficiency.
Across the lot, Collin lingered, watching us with a thoughtful expression that made my stomach dip again. He looked like someone considering an equation before he finally turned and went inside the inn.
Lucy tracked him with her eyes until he was inside. “He’s going to try again.”
“I know,” I said.
Jane’s hand brushed my arm briefly. “We’ll be ready.”
Kitty grinned. “We’re basically a tactical unit.”
Meri didn’t look up. “Don’t get too complacent. He’ll adapt.”
Kitty’s grin faltered. “That’s a terrifying sentence.”
“It’s true,” Meri said.
I looked at the truck and forced my focus back to the task in front of me. We had a float to finish. We had a parade tomorrow. We had a business to run and a town watching us, not with malice, but with curiosity and expectation.
And I had promised myself I wasn’t going to quit.
We worked for another hour, the decorations taking shape in earnest now.
The greenery lined the edges of the truck bed, secured tightly enough that it would take a determined wind to dislodge it.
The battery lights were woven through carefully, their cords hidden, their switches accessible.
Jane insisted on symmetry, but Kitty kept sneaking in small flourishes that made it feel warmer, less polished and more human.
I stepped back again, hands on my hips, surveying the work.
It wasn’t perfect. It wasn’t the elaborate vision I had first imagined when I had told the internet I needed a vehicle. It didn’t look like a magazine spread.
It looked like us.
It looked like a family trying.
And that was better.
Jane came to stand beside me, her cheeks pink from the cold, hair slipping loose despite her best efforts. “It’s good.”
“It is,” I agreed.
Kitty bounced in place. “It’s great. It’s going to be the best float in the parade.”
Meri snorted. “That’s not a high bar in Maple Ridge.”
Kitty gasped. “Meri.”
“It’s true,” Meri replied, calm as ever. “Half the floats will be pickup trucks with hay bales and one sad string of lights.”
Kitty brightened. “Then we will destroy them.”
Lucy sipped her coffee. “Politely.”
I laughed, the sound unexpected and full, and felt something unclench in my chest.
For the first time since I had decided I was going to do this float, I didn’t feel like I was holding my breath.
I was still nervous. Still responsible. Still aware of Collin waiting like a problem that wouldn’t solve itself, but as I watched my sisters fuss over garland and zip ties and lights, I realized something simple.
I wasn’t doing this alone anymore.
And maybe I hadn’t been for a while.