Layla set her glass into the sink. “So that’s meant putting rush orders on merchandise to get more into the shop. I hate paying the extra fees, but what else can I do?”
“Honey, you really need to hire someone. Especially now that Marybelle is taking it easy.”
“I know. I know. If I’d known I’d be so busy, I would have started the process months ago. Christmas isn’t the best time to look for help.”
Dad looked over at them. “So what’s this big event you’re going to next weekend?”
“It’s a sponsor’s dinner for a tree festival fundraiser in Hendricks. One of my clients, Blueberry Point Lodge, is hosting it, so they invited me back.”
“That’s an awfully long way to travel for a dinner, especially this time of year. I assume you’re staying the night?” he asked.
“Yes, I’ve booked a room in town. And I’m driving up there with someone.” She’d checked all the boxes in the Don’t Worry Your Parents manual. It didn’t matter that she was well into her thirties, they still asked the same questions they had when she was a new adult.
Still, the air crackled with unspoken questions. The topic of her love life always lit the match that turned into a wildfire of questions from Gerald and Lita Dean. She answered good-naturedly until there came a point when their curiosity tripped the overload button in Layla’s brain and she was done. Her sister had married right out of college, thus avoiding this intense scrutiny, lucky girl.
Her mother cracked first. “Soo, who is it?”
She went to the sink to wash her cup, smiling to herself. They couldn’t help themselves. “It’s a guy who did the exterior light installation on the inn at the same time I was there. He was invited too.” She’d never tell them about the mistletoe incident last year. The whole apartment would go up in flames if she did.
“Is this someone with potential?” Her mother’s tone bordered on singsongy. In the living room, her father stopped tapping his laptop keys.
Did Brant have potential? She’d purposely avoided thinking about this. It had been much easier to hold him accountable in her mind for the mistletoe mishap. She didn’t have time for the messiness of a new relationship, especially since she and Kyle broke it off last week.
“He’s a nice guy.”
She pretended not to notice her parents exchange glances. Grabbing a towel, she dried the breakfast dishes.
“He installs Christmas lights? So what does he do in the off-season?” Dad asked.
“Oh, it’s a full-time job. He has a big company.”
Mom huffed as she squeezed beside Layla to run water over her hands. “I’m not too sure how busy one can be with Christmas lights during the summer. It sounds like he’s giving you a story.”
“Look him up if you don’t believe me.” Listen to her jumping to Brant’s defense.
Dad’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, his eyes bright with a sense of mission. “What’s his name?”
“Light the Night, LLC. He’s out of the Twin Cities.”
Lita moved over by Gerald, leaning over the back of the chair as his fingers flew across the keyboard. From her spot in the kitchen, Layla could almost see an electric aura of anticipation buzzing around their heads. Watching their expression morph from curiosity into surprise when they Googled Brant’s company was a little comical.
Her mom’s eyes popped. “He’s, like, a big deal.”
“A really big deal,” her dad said. “And he’s a YouTuber.”
That made her laugh. “What do you know about YouTubers, Dad?”
“I learned how to refinish the hardwood floors by watching the YouTube.”
Her mom patted him on the shoulder. “And replace the garbage disposal.”
“It’s just YouTube, nottheYouTube,” Layla said, closing the cabinet.
This she had to see. Billboards, yes. Radio spots, yes. But she had no idea his expertise stretched into the how-to video realm.
Layla crossed the living room to peer over her father’s shoulder at the laptop too.
Lita waggled her finger toward the screen. “See? There’s at least a dozen videos here.”
