Not long after Thanksgiving was over, millions of colorful lights in all shapes and sizes went up around the forty-three-acre Shannon Springs Park. Visitors could either drive slowly through in bumper-to-bumper traffic or stroll the walkway, past the 172-foot Christmas tree, and the pond where plump ducks and geese lingered.

The main attraction, though, was the long pedestrian bridge that spanned the breadth of the pond and had every inch covered with white lights so bright I wouldn’t be surprised if they could be seen from airliners flying high overhead. There were other attractions, too, all covered in lights. A Ferris wheel, carousel, food trucks, photos with Santa.

And camels.

Arthur’s expression was almost accusatory. “You never said there would be camels.”

“Arthur? There are camels at the lights festival.”

His eyes narrowed and I snickered. Then he returned his attention to the incongruous beasts. “Why camels?”

“It’s the Jesus part of Christmas. Three camels, Three Wise Men?”

“Of course.” He shook his head as if he should have known that.

“Folks are big on Jesus around here,” I explained. “Though everyone has their own version.”

“There’s only the one Jesus.”

Grandma Jo spoke up. “But an infinite number of interpretations. Haven’t you noticed there’s a church on almost every other corner in town?”

“I had, rather.” Arthur nodded. “Some are positively massive.”

“ ‘Our Jesus is better than your Jesus’ is a favorite saying around here,” she said wryly.

Arthur turned to his aunt. “Mashi, do you want to go closer to the camels?”

Aunt Esha smiled. “That’s quite all right.”

“There’s a horse-drawn carriage ride if—” Grandma Jo started to offer only to be met by three simultaneous and emphatic “No!” from Aunt Esha, Arthur, and me.

Followed by Aunt Esha’s “Thank you, though.”

Then Grandma Jo got it. “Oh, right. The sleigh.”

“Speaking only for myself, I’ve been around enough pack animals for this holiday.” Aunt Esha rubbed her bare hands together.

Grandma Jo noticed.

“Should we go get a hot drink?” she asked.

Aunt Esha’s dark eyes widened. “I like that idea very much.”

I assumed Arthur and I would go with them, not that I was in the mood for a beverage. We had only just arrived and the food trucks were on the other side of the festival.

However, Grandma Jo was on a different page. She smiled at me. “Finley, you and Arthur should keep going. We’ll meet you back here in an hour?”

I blinked. Surprised. “Um, okay.”

Grandma Jo and Aunt Esha wasted no time in leaving Arthur and me as they walked on ahead, branching off to a different pedestrian pathway until the trees and festival-goers blocked them from sight.