Proper Place

Sera

When Olivia, Patrick, and I returned to the mansion, he dropped the wreaths the first chance he got and fled the scene before we could force him to help us decorate. I took no offense and thought it was hilarious.

“What a surly teenage boy,” I said, laughing.

“Such fragile masculinity for a mafia brute,” she mused. Rubbing her hands together, she glanced around the room. “What should we start dressing up first?”

“We should hang the wreaths, of course.”

We’d found door hooks in the attic earlier and had hung them up before we left, so it was easy work setting the wreaths on them. Then we wrapped the garland around stair banisters, set fake candles on windowsills, and put window clings of snowmen just above them. We’d bought all sorts of Santas, snowmen, angels, elves, and gingerbread men to sit on every sill, mantel, and side table. Before long, the house was on its way to being Santa’s workshop.

Lastly, we wrapped more garland around the tree in the foyer and decorated it with a