From her flashing eyes, Luke suspected Carlie would have loved to tell him off, but was constrained by her position working for the bed-and-breakfast complex. Not that she’d done a bad job of knocking his ego down a peg with her polite comment about “much more interesting” people staying at Poppy Gold. Luke didn’t mind; honesty was a quality he valued as much as his privacy.
“We’re starting, everyone,” a voice called above the carol singing, which quieted instantly.
A count started in the crowd, reminiscent of Times Square on New Year’s Eve.
“Five, four, three, two...”
As the final number rang out, the rooflines, windows and doors of the Victorians were suddenly outlined with strings of lights. The trees lit up a moment later, along with bushes and the poles of lampposts that looked like they were converted gaslights.
Beth and Annie squealed with excitement and clapped their hands. Carlie Benton’s face reflected their blissful pleasure, and even Luke, who wasn’t big on showy displays, thought it was attractive.
Christmas had arrived with a splash at Poppy Gold.
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