The Brightest Star - Fern Michaels Page 0,2

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.

Not just story, she thought. End of business.

She left through the back door, locking up behind her, then rummaged through her purse for her car keys. She unlocked the door with the key fob and slid behind the wheel of her ten-year-old Honda. Turning the key in the ignition, she almost cried when all she heard was a clicking sound.

“Damn,” she said loudly. “This car needs a tune-up, and I can’t . . .”

Even run the family business properly.

Those were her thoughts as she pulled the latch on the hood. She left her purse on the passenger seat, then raised the hood, using the metal rod to ensure it stayed up.

She tugged on the battery cables, but they seemed okay. She used the light on her outdated iPhone to see if there was anything loose or out of place. “Like I would know if there were.”

No way was she calling her mother at this hour of night. Fallen Springs’ closest garage, Jimmy’s, had closed hours ago, and besides, even if they were open, they wouldn’t be able to do anything until tomorrow, maybe not even then. It was a holiday weekend, and most normal people were snuggled in bed beneath a warm blanket after a day of shopping online in the comfort of their own homes. Which is precisely where she would be, if given the choice. Sighing, she knew she didn’t have the luxury of a choice at that moment. Her only option was to go back inside the store and spend the rest of her night on the sagging sofa in the office.

She shivered as she reentered the store, having lowered the thermostat to sixty-three degrees in order to save on the heating bill. But tonight she’d make an exception. She bumped the temperature up to sixty-eight, then found the pillow and blanket she stored in the office for times such as this. She hadn’t spent too many nights in the store, but there had been times when it was necessary. Stock orders that needed to be organized, displays that required her full attention, no customers, things of that nature. A broken-down vehicle was a first.

The forecasters were predicting an extremely cold winter this year, and so far they’d been spot-on. It was in the low thirties, and she felt chilled to the bone. She made up the sofa, took off her shoes, and tried to get comfortable. She