Christmas at the Tree Farm

by Maddy Reeves

  “I work with a financial firm.”

  I stop in the middle of the sidewalk as soon as his words sink in.

  “You work at a financial firm and yet your parents are struggling to make ends meet on their farm? How does that happen?”

  “They didn’t tell me about any financial problems. Not that it’s any of your business.”

  “I suppose they figured it wouldn’t do any good anyway since you can’t be bothered to come home for a visit.”

  He glares right into my face, but I don’t back down today.

  “You’re fired.” His words are laced with malice while he does his best to hurt me any way he can.

  “You can’t fire me for saying things you don’t want to hear.”

  “Don’t bother coming back to the farm.” With that last retort, he storms back to his father’s pick-up truck. My chest is tight while I hold my breath and wait to see if he’s going to leave me here without a ride. Seconds later, the roar of the truck sounds and he peels off down Main Street.

  Chapter 5

  “Again, I am so sorry. Just know that you are not fired, dear. Did you get back to the motel alright?” My cell phone is tucked between my shoulder and cheek as I wrestle all of my bags into the motel room.

  “Yes. I’m back, and I’m fine. And I have good news! I’ve already secured products through Crafting Company and Fife’s. Both places are willing to sell their Christmas products at the Tree Farm and you’ll get a percentage of all sales.”

  “That’s wonderful!”

  “Can I ask you a favor, Frankie?” I’m standing in front of the heater trying to figure out how to turn it on. Somehow it shut off while I was gone today and it’s so cold in here, I’ll freeze in my sleep. “We need to find some sort of shelving unit, or two— and a table or two for the Christmas cottage. Anywhere in town we could find something that won’t be too expensive?”

  “I know just who to ask about that.” Her enthusiasm makes me smile. It’s good to know she’s pleased with my work even if her son most definitely is not.

  “Perfect. Let me know when you find something, and we’ll get them set up.” I crank the dial on the heater, and thankfully, warm air blasts into the room.

  After we say goodbye, I toss my cell phone on the bed and start pulling my new clothes out of the bags. Still no word from the airline equals a shopping spree for myself. This is a paying job, after all, and I can’t continue to show up in the same outfit every day.

  I’m in the process of hanging up my new clothes when my anger with Clay resurfaces. Without Frankie’s distraction, or shopping downtown, it’s impossible not to think about him. His demeanor clouds my day, bringing me down. I was so shocked that he drove away leaving me without a ride that it took a moment for me to realize that I wasn’t alone on the street. People went about their business, doing their best to try to pretend they didn’t just witness our fight. They looked away out of courtesy when I ducked my head, and wiped a tear from my cheek. Thinking about his behavior makes my chest burn.

  I’m in my new flannel snowman pajamas when there’s a knock on the door signaling the arrival of my Chinese food for dinner. I’m relieved to have another distraction. White Christmas is on TV, the white cartons of food between my crossed legs—I’m content. All I need to do is ignore the subtle knot in the pit of my stomach.

  Just as the final credits roll, my cell phone rings, my best friend Kendra’s name popping up.

  “Kendra, I didn’t expect to hear from you!” The unexpected surprise of hearing my friend’s voice lifts my spirits. Even over the phone, hearing a familiar voice takes away some of the loneliness that comes from spending so much time by myself in a motel room. There’s noise in the background which automatically clues me in that she’s calling me during a break at the hospital.

  “I had to call to see how the job is going. Frankie and Ed are the best, aren’t they?”

  “They’re wonderful. Frankie is so open to all of my ideas, and I think Ed is going along with everything to make her happy.” She chuckles through the phone while I imagine her nodding along in agreement. “How’s the hospital?”

  “Oh, same old stuff here. Long, tiring days. But I want to hear more about you. Give me details.”

  “Everything about the job is wonderful, except one thing.”

  “Oh, no—what?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me their son would be here. He’s extremely unpleasant.”

  “Their son? You mean Clay?”

  “Yes, Clay. He’s awful.”

  “Oh no,” she says. “But I had no idea that he would be there. The last I heard he disappeared in New York and hadn’t returned in years.”

  “That’s what his Dad said. But he’s back. I don’t understand why he has such a problem with me, but he definitely doesn’t like me.”

  “What’s not to like about you?” She raises her voice in disbelief. “And what is he doing back now after all this time?”

  “I don’t know for sure, but it looks like he came home for Christmas.”

  “But Christmas is over a month away.”

  “Maybe he planned on lending a hand with the tree farm? It is their crazy busy time of the year. Maybe he decided he’d let his parents fend for themselves for long enough.”

  “Maybe. I don’t like that he’s being rude to you, though. That’s the last thing you need right now.”

  “Honestly, I get the impression it has to do with the lack of communication between his parents and him. He didn’t know they were hiring me, and he wasn’t happy about it.”

  “He can get over himself,” she says. “Anyway, I don’t know much about him. All I know is that his wife apparently left him shortly after their son was born. I don’t have any more details for you, though.”

  “If he treated her the way he treats me, I don’t blame her.” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret it. I’m not a mean person, in fact, I try to live my life by passing kindness around. From my own experience, you never know what someone else is going through. “I shouldn’t have said that. It was mean.”

  “I know you don’t mean it.”

  “He brings out the worst in me.”

  “Just work your magic, and get back home. You’ll be here for Christmas?”

  “I should be.” I actually hadn’t thought that far ahead, but once I get things running smoothly here, I’ll head home to Minnesota.

  “You’re invited to Christmas with my family. My mom wanted me to make sure you knew you were invited.”

  “That’s so sweet of you guys. To be honest, I’m secretly dreading it this year. My first Christmas without both of my parents.”

  “It sucks, but you’ll be here and we’ll shower you with love. You won’t be alone. Now, if this guy doesn’t start treating you better, I want to hear about it. I’ll find a way to fly out there and kick his butt, work commitments or not.”

  “You’re such a good friend—threatening to kick someone’s butt for me.”

  After our giggles die down, we say our good-byes, promising to talk again soon.

  Kendra is the reason I decided to take this job in the first place. She grew up in Willowdale. After she left for college, her parents ended up moving for her dad’s company. She has fond memories of it, though, which is why I was finally on board with accepting the job when it came across my desk. My boss was extremely supportive because of everything I’ve been through. He wasn’t about to tell me no.

  For the rest of the night, I curl up on the bed and flip through the channels. Eventually, It’s a Wonderful Life, comes on, my Dad’s favorite. Without thinking, I grab my phone, but it only takes me a split second to realize my mistake. I was about to give him a call. Tell him his favorite movie was on, and which channel so he could turn it on himself if he wanted to. Slowly, I set my cell on the night stand and rub my hand over my heart, doing my best to massage the pain away.

  To get my mind off of my painful mistake, I think about what Kendra said abo
ut Clay. I feel for him if his wife really left him when Levi was a baby. I’m actually glad I have a little piece of information that will help me sympathize with him a bit more. Regardless of what happened in his past, though, I’m resolved to stay as far away from him as possible for the rest of this job.

  Chapter 6

  A few days later, Ed and I are unloading the boxes from the back of his truck into the cottage.

  “These shelves are beautiful,” I say, surprised. “Where did you find them?” My hand brushes over the sanded wood while the scent of fresh lacquer stings my nose.

  “Clay made them.” I stare at Ed, certain he’s joking, but he continues. “He’s always been good with his hands and loved building with wood. Seriously, give the man a hammer and nails and he’s a happy guy.”

  The craftsmanship of the shelves is impressive. It looks like something I could buy at a high-end furniture store. They fit the space perfectly, filling the far wall.

  “They’re perfect,” I finally manage to say.

  Ed walks back out to the truck for the last of the boxes while I begin mentally arranging the products on the shelves.

  “He’s working on the table as we speak, over in the barn.” Ed sets another box on the floor. “If there’s anything else you want, he can make it.”

  “Something with hooks for ornaments would be amazing.”

  “It’s a plan. I’ll grab the last few boxes.”

  Once the truck is empty, I get to work unpacking the boxes. It literally feels like Christmas as I pull out the themed fluffy pillows, sherpa throws, wooden signs and shiny, plastic Christmas trees. I’m organizing everything into groups when the door opens sending a gust of cold air filled with snowflakes through the cottage.

  The last person I expect to see is Clay, but he’s standing in front of me, hands pushed into his pockets. In my surprise I stare at him much longer than is socially acceptable while his eyes gaze into mine. After our last interaction, the ball is in his court.

  “I wanted to apologize.” He leans against the wall next to the door, keeping his distance. When I don’t say anything right away, he shifts positions, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m sorry I left you to fend for yourself. I don’t know what came over me.” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I’ve never done anything like that before.”

  “Lucky me.” I shrug my shoulders and smile uncomfortably. I’m not ready to give in and forgive his behavior, but the manners ingrained in me force me to acknowledge his attempt at an apology even though I want to suggest he seek therapy. “The shelves are perfect.”

  “I’m almost finished with the table. Just letting the lacquer dry.” It’s obvious he’s relieved to be discussing the furniture and not what happened the last time we were together.

  I can’t stop myself from sneakily glancing at him. Part of me is waiting for him to snap at me again while the rest of me is curious about this new side of him. He doesn’t look happy by any means, but at least he’s not shooting daggers at me. Instead of his hands clenched tightly in fists, they’re relaxed, like the rest of him. Maybe coming home was exactly what he needed.

  “We could use another counter, too. Nothing fancy…just something at the back where we can serve refreshments.”

  “I can do that. I’ll get started on it right away.”

  He doesn’t make a move to leave, and I wonder if there’s something else he wants to say. Farm life looks good on him though—faded jeans, worn boots, and a blue plaid shirt that makes his eyes pop— more reasons why I can’t stop looking at him. This isn’t the same guy I saw in the airport, but I know his anger isn’t gone…rather simmering just below the surface.

  “That would be great. Opening weekend will be here before we know it.”

  “Did you secure Gloria’s chocolates yet?”

  I study him before I answer, wondering if he’s teasing.

  “Not yet.”

  “Look, Gloria’s old. She’s been running that little chocolate shop for years. At this point, she’s just resistant to anything different than what she’s been doing.” I nod my head to acknowledge what he’s said, even though my mind is reeling from the fact that he’s trying to help me right now. “Don’t get your hopes up,” he continues.

  “Plan B—I’ll make them.” I shrug as if it’s no big deal, even though the look on his face tells me he doesn’t believe me.

  “You have a lot of chocolate making experience?”

  “I do actually. I’ve been making chocolates for years. Something I always did with my mom and dad. Every year for Christmas.”

  “Then you might be onto something.” He stares at me thoughtfully. “If you decide to go that route, talk to my mom. She loves that kind of thing.”

  “I will.” It feels weird to be thanking him today after our rocky start. Maybe there’s hope for him after all.

  “I’ll let you get back to it,” he says, strumming his fingers on the door frame. “My dad and I’ll bring the table over when it’s ready.”

  The air shifts as soon as I’m alone, and I can breathe a little deeper. He was practically pleasant today—and it confuses me. I imagine Ed pulling him aside, and telling him he needs to fix his behavior. I don’t know Ed that well yet, but it seems like something he would do. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, but I hope this is a permanent change. It’ll make my entire working experience more positive while I’m here.

  I get back to work organizing the new product, only this time, Clay’s appealing features play through my mind. It’s a dangerous game to entertain any kind of attraction with a man like him. He’s unpredictable with a ton of baggage. And above all, eventually he’s moving back to New York and out of my life. Still, his eyes are the lightest blue, and I lose myself in their vastness. He says so much with those eyes. They turn sharp and piercing when he’s mad. Today, they were softer, deep pools of blue with the hint of moonlight that drew me to him in the beginning.

  Eventually, he’ll shut down again.

  The sentiment plays through my head like a song on repeat.

  “Naomi, dear.” Frankie’s standing in the doorway when I whip around, my hands clutching my chest.

  “You scared me,” I say, laughing to ease the tension. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

  “That’s because you’re working so hard. Stay and have dinner with us tonight?”

  “Oh, that’s so nice of you, but I can’t tonight. I’m planning on working on the website when I get home.”

  Frankie steps in further, picking up one of the small trinkets on top of the pile and turning it over in her hands. She reminds me of my mom; slender with short gray hair, and smile lines around her eyes and mouth. Every time I’ve seen her around the farm, she’s on the move. “You still need to eat—you’ve been working so hard.”

  “I really want this launch to go well, and there’s so much to do. One of these days I’d love to stick around, though.”

  “Just don’t let Clay scare you away,” she says, surprising me. I wonder for a moment if she can read my mind. “He’ll come around.”

  I open my mouth to reply, but I don’t know what to say. She’s right—I do plan on avoiding Clay for the rest of my time here. A small glimpse of kindness doesn’t change anything about our circumstances. Anyway, it’s better not to get attached to Frankie or Ed, or anyone else for that matter. The last thing I need is another reason for my heart to ache when I have to leave in a few weeks.

  “We’ll see about that.” I can’t help but tease her a bit because I’m not as optimistic about her son as she is.

  “You’re going to be good for him.” When I meet her gaze, she gives me a knowing look before she disappears.

  Chapter 7

  “I think this is everything.” I hoist two large bags of groceries onto Frankie’s counter, and start unpacking all of our ingredients.

  “I’m going to turn on some Christmas music,” Frankie says, disappearing into the living room.

  I’ve already unloaded
all of the thick bars of melting chocolate, candy molds and sugared decorations when the first few notes of Sleigh Ride begins playing in the kitchen.

  “Wow, you’ve got a nice set-up.” Frankie returns and begins unloading a bag as well.

  “I spend enough time in here,” she says, “I figure I might as well make it enjoyable. Usually I listen to podcasts or talk radio. But, once it hits November, it’s Christmas music all the time.”

  Candy making with Frankie is just what I need today. The arrangement that I hoped to establish with Gloria fell through, so now I find myself in the position of making my own sweets. I hate to admit it, but Clay was right. She’s set in her ways after all of these years. And not only that, but she told me she’s slowing down and doesn’t know how much longer she’s going to keep the store open.

  We have small clear cellophane gift bags with different color holiday ribbons. Last night at the hotel, I designed all of the labels we’d need to add to the candy bags. I’m crossing items off my list one at a time, and it feels good to be so wrapped up in my work.

  Once the pot of water is boiling on the stove, I get started melting the first batch of chocolate, while Frankie breaks the peppermint candy canes into little pieces.

  “Clay took Levi sledding today,” Frankie says. “I knew being back home would be good for him.”

  “Do you have good sledding hills nearby?” I’m going to do my best to avoid talking about Clay, just like I’m doing my best to avoid thinking about him.

  “Yes, right across the street within walking distance. Clay used to go there all the time when he was little. Ed would take him, and I’d make hot chocolate when they got home.”

  “Extra marshmallows?”

  “No!” she laughs, “Clay always hated the texture—and the stickiness.”

  It’s difficult to imagine Clay as a carefree kid, a sled tucked under his arm as he trudges through the snow. Now, the Clay who would throw a fit because there are marshmallows in his hot chocolate—that I can picture.