CHAPTER 2
LIGHTING UP THE NEIGHBORHOOD
Annette
Nowthat my rush of alarm is subsiding,Ican see in the darkness there have been clues all around me that this man is putting upChristmaslights—he wasn’t sneaking onto my roof, even though that’s exactly what it looked like.
Thepolice officer parked out front is halfway across the lawn to us, the lights on his car still flashing, whenReese’scar skids to a stop just behind his.Thatdaughter of mine is going to pop another tire if she keeps coming at curbs so fast.
Sheleaps out and races across the lawn, passing the officer, calling out, “Mom!Areyou okay?Issomeone hurt?”Whenshe reaches us, she adds, “Hammy,Itold you not to fall off the ladder!Mom, you weren’t up the ladder, too, were you?”
Sparkbarks, happy as ever.
“Youknow this man?”Iask her.
Shenods. “ThisisHammyfromOutsidetheBubbleClub.”
Reese’sroommate,Charlie, catches up a second later.Shecrouches beside the man, putting an arm around his shoulders. “Andhe’s my honorary dad.”
“We’redoing service projects,”Reesesays, “and we decided to put up your lights becauseIknow how important it is to you.”
“Forthe record,” the man tangled with me says as he motions with arms strewn in lights toward the flashing red and blue on my house, “those are not the lightsIwas trying to bring to the season.”
Thenice thing about being on this earth for a little over five decades is that you no longer get as easily embarrassed as you did in your younger years.Butapparently, accusing a man who’s trying to help of being a thief, your dog knocking him off his ladder, falling onto your rear, and getting tangled in a mess of lights—while wearing a pencil skirt, of all things—is enough to do it.Myface is probably as red asSanta’ssuit.Hopefully, everyone assumes it’s from the cold.
Reesebegins untangling theChristmaslights trapping me asIapologize toHammy.Bythe timeReeseoffers a hand to pull me to my feet,I’vesaid “I’msorry” using about every phrase possible.It’sa bit of a rambling blur, butImight’ve even said, “Mybad,” and “Oopsie-Daisy,” two phrasesI’msureI’venever said in my life.
Ipick upSparkand cradle her to my chest.Oncemy dog andIare no longer tangled with him,Hammyhas no problem at all hopping to his feet.
“So…” a voice behind me says, “Itake it everything is okay?”
Iwhirl around to face the officer, whoIsomehow completely forgot about.Evenwith his flashing lights bouncing off my house, my neighbors’ houses, and the snow that covers everything.Iapologize to him, too.
Oncethe officer is pulling away,Isay, “Giveme a minute to change,” thenIgrab my suitcase and my puppy and head intomy house.AssoonIshut the door behind me,Iclose my eyes and take in a slow breath.Ican’t believeIthought that man was breaking into my house!Iblame it on the fact thatIwas just on a full flight, seated between a kid watchingHomeAloneand a man watchingDieHard.
Ichange into warmer clothes and snow boots and head back out to join the awkward situation.Istand at the base ofHammy’sladder and feed the string of lights up to him asCharlieuntangles the mess we made by getting trapped in them.Reeseis handing clips up toHammyand frequently voicing her worries that he might fall again.
Ihave to admitI’mgladItook the earlier flight home and got assigned this task becauseIhave a great view ofHammy’sbackside.Andit’s a really nice backside.Especiallyfor someone his age.NotthatIknow how old he is.Byhis face and hair,I’mguessing he’s in his sixties.Maybeeven sixty-five.Buthis physique is of someone closer to my age who likes to stay fit and active.
Ithits me that this might be the first timeI’vechecked out a man’s backside sinceBryce.Reesewill be so proud!She’sbeen trying to nudge me toward dating again.
Andthere’s more to check out than justHammy’slooks—his movements are mesmerizing.Eachtime he repositions the ladder, he places it so perfectly that it never needs adjusting.I’venever heard someone climb up and down a ladder so silently before.Andhe has such incredible balance that he never holds onto the ladder or house—he just attaches clips and lights quickly and seamlessly.
He’sone capable man.Andso willing to help.It’sbeen a long time sinceI’vehad that in my life. “So,Hammy,”Iask, “how did you get so good at working atop a ladder?”Maybehe has a career in home construction.
Hetwists to look at me and says with a wink, “Oh, that’s from my covert infiltration training as a top-secret government spy.”
Ican’t help it—Ilaugh heartily.I’mglad he’s already viewing my accusing him of thievery through the lens of humor.Iappreciate that.
“Whatdo you do for a living?” he asks.
“Iwork at a promotional products company.”
“Shedoesn’t just work there,”Reesesays, “she’s an executive.”
Hammy’seyebrows rise. “Impressive.”
Ishrug asIwork a minor tangle out of the lights. “It’sa byproduct of working at the same company for over a decade.”Well, that, and working my tail off.
