“Did you do all that? While we were inside lighting the fire and making drinks?” Ivy asked.

“No! I was putting my tools in the truck, and I noticed all the Roses’ old lights were still strung on all the bushes and trees, and even the porch railings,” Phoebe said. “I found an extension cord in your toolshed and plugged ’em in—just to see if they still worked. And they do! It’s like a Christmas miracle.”

“I never paid any attention to these lights out here,” Ivy said. “I just assumed they were all burnt out. I mean, the house hasn’t been lived in for years, right?”

“Santa Bob died while I was still in high school,” Phoebe agreed. “I think Betty Rae lived a few years after that, but I can’t remember the last time the house was all lit up like this.”

Ivy stood at the edge of the porch and looked out over the yard. Every single shrub was draped with twinkling lights, lending the scene a fairy-tale appearance. The bare branches of tall trees were illuminated with the lights, and the farmhouse itself was outlined in lights.

“Hey, look!” Phoebe pointed down the driveway, where, at the bottom of the hill, three cars had pulled off onto the shoulder of the road. Backlit by their vehicle’s headlights, the drivers stood on the roadside, pointing up at the house.

“Looks like the Fantasy of Lights is back on at Four Roses Farm,” Ezra remarked.

“It really is pretty special, isn’t it?” Ivy said.

“You’ll leave the lights on, then?” Phoebe asked. “At least until Christmas?”

“Yeah,” Ivy said, “I guess it won’t hurt to leave them on.”

Chapter 12

The storm started sometime after midnight. She could hear the wind howling outside, whistling down through the chimney and rattling every pane of glass in the living room and in her bedroom. Then she heard the sound of something pelting the tin roof. Pine cones? Errant Christmas lights?

Ivy shivered and burrowed deeper under the thick layer of quilts she’d piled onto her makeshift bed and was grateful when Punkin, also disturbed by the raging storm outside, arranged himself beside her on the mattress.

She was bone-tired from the day’s physical exertion—up and down ladders, back and forth from Phoebe’s truck to the chicken coop for tools and supplies. Her arms and shoulders ached, yet she was unable to sleep. She kept thinking of the warmth of Ezra Wheeler’s arm around her shoulders, the light pressure of his palm on the small of her back when she’d impulsively leaned in to kiss him.

Was this a thing? she wondered. With Ezra Wheeler? She’d told Phoebe she wasn’t looking for romance. Not interested in falling in love again. For Ivy, being in love meant being vulnerable to pain and betrayal. And that, she’d had quite enough of, thank you very much. Despite her steely resolve to erase Kyle from her memory bank, she found her thoughts wandering to her ex. He’d be spending his first Christmas with Bianca, his new bride, in the home where he’d shared the previous four holidays with Ivy.