Lauren turned the store lights off with the remote on her desk that had been included when she’d purchased them during an after-Christmas sale last year at one of the big-box stores in Asheville, then did a quick walk through the aisles in order to tidy up. Red, green, and white twinkle lights framed the storefront window, where an artfully arranged pile of decorated boxes lay just so around the faux-fir tree, which had ornaments from the store tucked neatly inside and around the branches, the price tags discreetly hidden. The uniqueness of their stock should have brought shoppers from across the state, as it had done in the past, but, sadly, that pipe dream fizzled out as fast as the gas logs in the fake fireplace, where handmade red-and-gold stockings, again from her mother’s crafting group, hung from the mantel. If she were a stranger and happened upon a store as Christmassy as this, she would’ve spent a good portion of today perusing the shelves, but she’d grown up with beautiful, unique items such as these, and it was all in a day’s work to her and her parents.

She often wondered if her choice of colleges had something to do with the fact that Florida just didn’t seem like a place where one would surround oneself with Christmas things. She’d been wrong on that front, too. Floridians took advantage of the warm weather and overdecorated their front yards and lanais. Hot-pink flamingos wearing red Santa hats were seen on lawns, and sometimes even on rooftops. Santa’s sleigh was pulled by seahorses, dolphins, and, now and then, gators, in honor, she supposed, of her alma mater. Sand replaced snow. In Florida, hot toddies were replaced by frozen margaritas, totally the opposite of what she’d been used to. Her college choice had been so long ago, she truly didn’t remember when the idea to attend the University of Florida had hit her. Lauren had always returned to Fallen Springs for the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays, and a few other times throughout the year.

When she returned to her birthplace, she’d adapted as well as any grown woman could have, and so far, she had no regrets.

Until today.

She’d been sliding through the days, weeks, and months as though there would be plenty of time to think about the store’s finances, and now, here she was. It was the busiest shopping day of the year, and all she had were a few sales from locals who had yet to buy into the online-shopping craze.

And that was the problem. She’d realized it long before her return to Fallen Springs. Brick-and-mortar stores are in a race for survival, she’d explained to her father and grandfather. They needed to step up their game if they were to survive. Open up an online version of Razzle Dazzle Décor. Or at least join a website where people from across the globe would be able to purchase what they had for sale.

Again and again, her father wouldn’t hear of it. He gave her his usual spiel about the business, how it had been handed down from one generation to the next. It had provided for many and would continue to do so. “End of story,” he always added.