December was a miracle in Willard Park. Every house was decorated with tiny white lights no matter the religion of the resident, a town tradition. It looked like a toy town, despite the contrasting house sizes. The lights were officially lit on the first Sunday evening in December, a ceremony that included caroling and deep cauldrons of hot chocolate. The town tree, a Douglas fir planted on the green years ago so they wouldn’t have to sacrifice a new one each year, stood nearly twenty-five feet tall. Schoolchildren made the ornaments—religion neutral, so as not to offend.

Usually neighbors on ladders decorated the town tree, but this year Nick and Kaye, as cochairs of the decorating committee, had hired a company to do the job courtesy of Cox Design and Build. A woman in a suit and dangerously high heels had stood below, directing, clipboard in hand. The result was worthy of a magazine. There were so many lights, kids could play by the glow of them after dark, which, while excessive, was also kind of fun.

Allison appraised the house decorations as she walked around the block, judging them privately since the town no longer offered prizes, a practice that ended a few years before, when someone unstrung most of the lights on what would certainly have been the winning house. The Garcias had electric candles in the windows and icicle lights dripping from the eaves, like the witch’s house in “Hansel and Gretel.” Nice, Allison thought. The Conways had opted for blinking lights around the window frames. A family of mechanical deer grazed on the lawn. A little tacky.

Nick and Kaye had put up colored lights their first December in Willard Park, prompting the town council to draft a letter informing them that colored lights were against town regulations. This year their house was outlined with white lights like a drawing in a coloring book—a streamlined and effective look. The same woman who had coordinated the decorating on the green had supervised the work. It went against the spirit of the thing to hire out, but Allison had to admit that the house looked magical. The winner.

Allison set up her tripod on the sidewalk, lowering the legs so she could take the shot from the ground up, to make it look like a looming fairy-tale castle. If she angled it right, she could make the stone lions by the front door look life-size. She was about to screw the camera onto the tripod when Rex came around from the back of the house, barking.

“Hush, Rex.”

He barked again, but it was more of a come-pat-me bark than an I’m-going-to-eat-you-up bark. Allison crept up the path and sat on the top step, hoping to mollify him. Rex sniffed her hands and legs, his tail wagging. He emitted excited yelps periodically and licked her face.

Nick opened the front door. “Rex!” he yelled. Then he saw Allison.