“You’re the boss lady, Liz. You tell us where to put it,” Ace said.

“How many are there in all?” Liz asked.

“Thirty-six,” Raylen said.

“Then we’ll divide them. Eighteen on each side.”

“By theme, color, or what?” Dewar asked.

“Let’s lay them all out on the ground and then decide where to put them,” Ace suggested.

Liz swiped her hand across her forehead, smearing dirt and sweat from one side to the other. “How do they stand up when a strong wind hits?”

Raylen flipped a snowman around and pointed to the bottom. “See that board with the holes in it? Stakes go through the holes and then two feet into the ground. Plus there’s a prop, kind of like the back side of an easel, that keeps them steady. We’ve got hundreds of stakes in the back of my truck. Haskell had them all cut and boxed up.”

Liz had lain awake the night before and planned out where each cutout would go, but now, looking out across the expanse of them, she was bewildered.

“Help!” she said.

Jasmine pushed her brown hair behind her ears. “You really want a Griswold effect?”

Liz nodded.

“Okay, then take every other one and put it on the other side of the lane. Don’t pay a bit of attention to themes or content. Just arrange them haphazardly,” Gemma suggested.

“Okay. That’s the way we’ll do it. But remember to arrange them so they are all as visible as possible from the road,” Liz said.

Ace picked up Betty Boop standing in front of a Christmas tree and carried it to the other side of the lane. Raylen grabbed a four-by-eight piece of plywood with a painting of three snowmen and a yellow puppy playing at their base.

“That must’ve been the year he got Hooter,” Liz said.

“And that one with the dancer and cactus was for this year, right?” Jasmine pointed to the latest one.

“I don’t remember seeing that one, so it has to be,” Gemma answered.

Dewar got a firm grip on Santa’s sleigh. “I’ll come back and get the reindeer that hooks up to this soon as I haul this little fat man to the other side of the lane.”

“The boxes with lights should be marked as to where they go. I’ve helped Haskell do this job since I was a little boy,” Raylen said.

“Mr. Braggy Butt,” Gemma said.

“Miz Smart Mouth,” Dewar taunted.

“Oh, hush! You’d agree with him just because it’s guys against gals,” she grumbled.

Jasmine touched Liz on the shoulder. “They argue like that all the time. It wasn’t easy for me to get used to since I’m an only child. Pearl and I were friends and we seldom ever had a cross word. These O’Donnells fight like…”

“Irishmen.” Gemma giggled. “It’s fun. You ought to try it.”

“I know exactly what you are talking about.” Liz remembered the arguments she had had with Blaze through the years. He hated to be wrong almost as much as she did, and their arguments could get heated. Maybe the fact that he was Irish, too, was the explanation. Their worst argument ever had been when he couldn’t talk her out of leaving the carnival and then he stayed in his trailer and refused to come out to wave good-bye to her.