by ID Johnson
Chapter 3
The sharp scent of pine and spruce, mingled with the earthy smell of freshly plowed soil filled his lungs as Josh Taylor stood near the top of one of many rolling hills looking out over the vast expanse of the Taylor Christmas Tree Farm. It was early, and like most days this time of year, it would be long, but at least it was Saturday, so he would have no out-of-town deliveries. While the crowds hadn’t quite started making their way to the little village his parents had created over twenty years ago, he knew they’d be there soon enough. Thanksgiving had passed, and the joy of the holiday season was now upon them. While he had long associated Christmas with physical exhaustion, he also loved the spirit of the holidays, and getting to spend this time of year with his parents and extended family once again made getting through the long days a bit more tolerable.
Josh removed his stocking cap and ran his hand through his unruly brown hair. He knew it was time for a haircut, but he liked letting his wavy hair grow a bit long this time of year. As the November breeze picked up a bit, he remembered why; there was just something freeing about feeling the wind in his hair. Unfortunately, that was about the only part of him that felt free these days. He placed the black stocking cap back on his head and shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his matching coat, letting out a sigh before returning to the four-wheeler that had brought him this far, and with one more glance around at the saplings dotting the outskirts of his parents’ land, he headed back to the house.
His mother had insisted that the little village his father built for the Christmas crowds be set far away from their actual home. Josh passed by the little shops and the reindeer pen on his way to the log cabin his father had constructed practically on his own before Josh or his brother and sister were even born. While the rough-hewn timbers on the outside gave the appearance of a larger version of what one might have seen sprinkling the West Virginia hillsides a hundred years ago or more, on the inside the home was much more accommodating. Though it was cozy, it was big enough to welcome visiting family, complete with an ample kitchen where his mother would spend the majority of her day if she were allowed.
Pulling the ATV to a stop near the two-car garage, Josh stepped off and stretched. He’d gotten up before dawn to go check on his father’s newest planting, trees that wouldn’t be ready for a few more Christmases, and planned to spend most of the day out in the western acreage harvesting trees that would make for a merry Christmas this year. But first, he would enjoy the spread he was certain his mother was preparing for breakfast. His mouth watered thinking of the eggs, bacon, sausage, and homemade biscuits he imagined she was cooking right now in anticipation of the arrival of his brother, sister, their spouses and children, as well as anyone else his father may have commandeered to work on the farm that weekend.
Before Josh even made it inside, he heard his father’s voice and realized he was sitting on the porch swing, phone in hand, having a bit of a heated discussion with someone, and Josh paused to see if everything was okay.
“No, I understand. If he’s lost his driving privileges, Faye, then I guess we’ll have to figure something else out. I get it. It’s just I wish you would’ve called me last night so I could have found someone else to go. Yes, I know. I agree, it is important to teach them responsibility when they are young. Okay—yes, send him over and I’ll put him to work.” Kent Taylor said his goodbyes and hung the phone up, letting go a sigh of frustration as he did so.
As if he’d just noticed Josh standing nearby, Kent grimaced and attempted to force a smile, but it didn’t quite come out the way he intended, and Josh could see that he was clearly put-out about something. “What’s going on, Dad?” he asked. Faye was Josh’s cousin, and as far as he knew, her son Will was set to make a delivery run to a few of the lots this morning. From what he could tell by listening to his father’s end of the conversation, though, it sounded like that wasn’t happening.
“Will stayed out too late last night and missed his curfew,” Kent explained, running a hand through his thinning hair, which he kept much shorter than Josh’s, keeping its tendency to break into waves in check. “Faye has suspended his driving privileges, which I don’t blame her for, but had I known she was considering that as a punishment, I wouldn’t have arranged for him to take those trees to Winchester today.”
Josh nodded, everything he suspected becoming clear. “Well, it sounds like she’s still going to bring him over to help, so that’s good.”
“Yes,” Kent nodded, “but you know he’s better at driving than he is anything that has to do with actual physical labor.”
Josh chuckled. Will was one of the lankier, scrawnier family members that worked on the tree farm. Most of the time, he tired out, or quit from a lack of motivation, long before the rest of the team was ready to take a break. “Is Mackenzie still bringing over Payton and his friend Robert?” Josh asked, referring to his older sister and her son, who was not old enough to drive yet, but he was strong and a hard worker. He was also usually good for bringing a friend or two who wanted to earn a little gas money.
“Yes, and your brother is coming, as well as a few of the other cousins. But we have a lot of trees to bring in today. Your mom will definitely be busy at the village now that Thanksgiving is over, and next weekend will likely be one of our busiest. We need to get at least a few hundred more trees down to the village, and then you’ve got deliveries to make almost every day this week.”
Josh nodded. He was very familiar with the business of his schedule. He had already started making the trips to different lots this past week, delivering hundreds of trees to towns in three states, and his mom had been on the phone with dozens more retailers the last few days scheduling drop offs for the coming weeks leading up to Christmas. While Josh didn’t mind the monotony of driving around the countryside taking the trees to various towns where he knew they would make for many a happy holiday, he also enjoyed working the land with his father, brother, and other members of the Taylor clan. That’s what weekends were for this time of year. However, seeing the desperation on his father’s face and knowing there were very few people he trusted to actually deliver the trees and speak to the clients, Josh said, “I can take this load.”
Kent’s eyebrows raised, and Josh knew it was because his father understood how much Josh looked forward to having his weekends off from deliveries. “Are you sure, Son?” he asked. “I could ask Travis to do it.”
Chuckling at the thought of his older brother attempting to tactfully interact with the various retailers he’d have to speak with when dropping off the trees, Josh said, “Sure, Dad. It’s fine. It shouldn’t take more than a few hours, right? I’m sure I’ll be back in time to get some work done out there in the mountains with you.”
A look of relief washed over Kent’s face. “I hate to even ask you. I know you get tired of all the driving during the week.”
“You didn’t ask me,” Josh reminded his father. “I volunteered. It’s not a big deal, Dad.”
“Still,” Kent said, standing and crossing the few steps so that he was standing next to his son, who was a good half-foot taller, “I know how you feel about the farm, and the fact that you’re willing to take all of your vacation time to come out here and help us means a lot to your mom and me. It makes me proud to hear you say you’re willing to do whatever it takes to make this a profitable year for us.”
Josh shrugged and carefully studied the wood grain in the porch between his work boots. “Dad, I love the farm. It’s not that I don’t. I just don’t know that it’s my dream, you know? At least, not the way that it’s always been yours. But I want to help. You know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to.”
“I know,” Kent interjected quickly, patting his son on the shoulder. “I understand. Maybe, while you’re out there today, you can think about what we talked about.”
Holding back a sigh, Josh nodded. “I will,” he confirmed, then forcing a smile, he added, “I am definitely not leaving before breakfast, tho
ugh.” The aroma of freshly cooked bacon made his mouth water, and he paused for a second to take a deep breath before pulling open the screen door, holding it for his dad.
“I can’t fault you there,” Kent replied, pushing open the large oak door where his wife had already hung a beautiful, handmade wreath she’d created from pine trimmings. “As long as you’re on the road by 9:00 you shouldn’t have any trouble making it to Winchester on time. Although, I will need you to go through Berryville and stop off at Gallows. They’ve ordered twenty trees.”
Following his father across the living room and into the kitchen, Josh repeated, “Gallows in Berryville and then on to Winchester. Got it.”
“I always thought Gallows was a funny name for a Christmas tree lot,” Lydia Taylor said as she slid plates across the counter to her husband and son, both heaped to the brim with the country breakfast she’d just prepared. “It always made me wonder if they used to specialize in a different sort of product also made from lumber.”
Josh chuckled as he sat down at a barstool across from his mother and next to his father. While there was a perfectly good dining room table in the adjoining room, eating breakfast in here on the weekends was always a bit more intimate, and he knew his mother would continue to prepare more food as he and his father ate in anticipation of the rest of the family members and crew who should be there in an hour or so.
“I believe that is a family name,” Kent explained, digging into his eggs. “Mmm, mmm,” he proclaimed, and after swallowing, added, “even better than your last.” It was a comment he made each time his wife prepared a meal for him, and even though she had heard it thousands of times through the years, it always brought a blush to her cheeks and a smile to her lips.
Lydia Taylor was fairly tall and insisted that her sons got their height from her, while her daughter was stuck with Kent’s average height. She wore her dark hair cut to shoulder length, and while she had put on a few pounds over the years, mostly from sampling her own creations, she was definitely able to keep up with her grandkids. Josh watched as she pulled a cookie sheet filled with steaming biscuits out with one hand and popped another in with the other, thinking his mother could make her way around this kitchen blindfolded. “Are you going to be making the deliveries then today, honey?” she asked, glancing back over her shoulder at her youngest child.
“I am,” Josh said between bites of bacon. “I guess Will got himself into a little trouble.”
Lydia shook her head and leaned against the counter in front of them. “That doesn’t surprise me. Still, he’s almost eighteen years old. It’s too bad he can’t get his act together.”
“He’s a good kid,” Kent chimed in, defending his fallen delivery boy. “He just needs a better father figure.”
“Or a good swift kick in the pants,” Lydia muttered as she wiped at the counter with a tea towel, though Josh was fairly certain there wasn’t a speck of crumbs or splatter of liquid anywhere in the kitchen to be found, despite his mother’s continued food preparation. “Thank goodness none of our kids ended up being slackers like your cousins’ children.”
Clearly trying to avoid a conversation highlighting the downfalls of his distant family members, Kent said, “Are you excited to have the granddaughters help you in the shop today?”
Lydia’s face brightened at the mention of the two little girls. “Oh, yes. I think we’ll be busy, too. Bridgette is excited to make another wreath, and Chloe wants to be in charge of the reindeer.”
Kent chuckled. “That Chloe. She’ll make sure everyone pets them properly, I’m sure.”
Josh loved his two little nieces, his brother Travis’s girls. One of the things he loved most about visiting his parents during this time of year was watching their faces light up at the mention of Santa Claus or anything Christmas related. This was such a magical season, particularly for children, and he was happy to get to share the holidays with the girls while they were still small enough to believe in the splendor of it all. Bridgette would be six soon, and Chloe was only three. Looking at his parents’ faces when they spoke of their youngest grandchildren made Josh wonder what it would be like when he had his own kids someday and he could bring them by to visit their grandparents.
“Well, if you’re going to Berryville, you should stop by Charles Town on your way,” Lydia said, pulling an advertisement out of the newspaper sitting next to them on the counter. “I guess I didn’t realize what a quaint little downtown area they have over there.”
Having grown up in Shepherdstown, Josh was no stranger to the surrounding area, and he had visited Charles Town many times when he was younger, mostly just to have something else to do on the weekends or during high school sports competitions. He didn’t quite share his mother’s enthusiasm, however, though he listened as she continued to discuss the flyer.
“The antique store looks interesting,” she continued, “and they are having a festival in a few weeks. There’s a diner and a cute little bakery. I wonder if they have any treats we could sell in the shoppe.”
“You already make enough cookies and cakes to fill up the shoppe twice over,” Kent pointed out, taking a sip of his orange juice.
“Oh, I know,” Lydia replied, scarcely looking up from the sheet of paper. “I just love new ideas, that’s all. If you’re in a hurry, I suppose I could run over there sometime this week and check it out. I just thought, you may as well stop by for a cup of coffee, see if there’s anything inspiring. I just love this time of year. Everything is so festive and magical. Why not see a new place?”
“Charles Town is definitely not a new place,” Kent reminded her. “Wasn’t it founded by George Washington’s brother.”
“Yes, smarty,” Lydia said, finally setting the ad down. “That’s not what I meant. A place you haven’t visited in a while—some place with fresh ideas.” The timer on the oven made a chirp, and she went to check on her biscuits.
As Kent rattled on about how there was enough adventure awaiting him on the western acreage, Josh picked up his mother’s flyer and gave it a look. It was a well put together photo spread of a few older buildings decorated for Christmas, with lots of smiling faces and an invitation to check Charles Town out for the holidays. With a shrug, he thought, “Why not?” He hadn’t been there in years. Maybe he would stop by the bakery for a cup of coffee if he had time. May as well see what Charles Town had to offer if he had to head that direction anyway. It wasn’t how he had planned on spending his Saturday morning, but then, some of the best things in life happen with absolutely no preparation whatsoever.
Chapter 4
Saturday mornings had a tendency to be busy, and even though the shift Delaney was covering for Courtney wasn’t supposed to start until 10:00, she found herself standing in the back popping muffins into the oven well before 9:00. Wiping a trickle of sweat off of her brow onto the back of her hand, she surveyed the trays of treats stacked along the far wall, mentally calculating whether or not she needed to start on another batch of … something.
It had been a good decision to come in early. Despite Francine and Bonnie being very capable of running the shop without her on a typical Saturday morning, today, they were swamped. It was as if everyone and their brother had decided today was the perfect day for a doughnut, a croissant, or some other of Delaney’s creations, and both women were busy up front with customers most of the morning while Delaney kept them in fresh supply with items to sell. She’d already made more batches of hot cocoa than she could count, and the tin of her secret recipe was going to need refilling soon. That was one thing only she made, and she only did so under cover of darkness, either before the other ladies came in or after they’d all gone home. There was no way she was going to risk letting that recipe get into anyone else’s hands.
As Delaney took a pile of empty muffin tins over to the sink, she heard Francine say something to a customer about, “having to ask the boss lady.” She set the pile down with a clatter and wiped her hands off on her apron, wondering what
the question might be that only she could answer.
She made her way toward the front, seeing Francine walking her direction and met her a few feet outside of the kitchen. “There’s a young man here who’d like to speak to you about the ‘Help Wanted’ sign,” the older woman explained. Francine was short and plump, just the sort of grandmotherly-type figure one might expect to see baking cookies, and oftentimes new customers assumed she was the owner. It wouldn’t have surprised Delaney to hear that this was the case with the teenage boy standing on the other side of the counter now, his hands shoved deeply into the pockets of his khaki pants.
“Hi,” Delaney called as she neared the front counter. Offering her hand, she said, “I’m Delaney. Were you asking about the opening?”
Shaking her hand with a nervous smile, he replied, “Yes. Hi, I’m Cameron Baker, and I just thought… with a name like mine, this might be just the place for me.”
Delaney giggled. She had to give him credit for trying. He was tall and thin with spiky black hair cut at a jarring angle, and from that perspective he reminded her of some of the skateboarders she’d seen around town and on television. He wore a plaid button-down shirt beneath his heavy jacket, and while it looked like it could’ve used pressing, she was impressed that he had worn something other than the jeans and T-shirt or sweatshirt most younger applicants tended to throw on when they stopped by to inquire about a job.
“It’s nice to meet you, Cameron,” Delaney replied. “I’m looking for someone to help out for a couple of hours every morning at opening. I’d also need some help on the weekends. Before you fill out an application, do you think those hours might work for you?”