“I am putting you both where you are most needed. My decision is final. If the tree is not decorated to the town’s satisfaction, your community service will be extended.” The judge’s snowy brows lowered, his voice hardening. “And you will be even less happy with what I’ll have you do than you are now. Understood?”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“Yes, Your Honor.”
Judge Nichols turned to the bailiff. “Leon, can you contact the fire department and get the tree into position by tomorrow morning?”
“That shouldn’t be a problem, Judge.”
Planting his hands on his desk, the judge rose and stared at Sadie and Colt. “You both are unhappy with my decision. Tough. As they say, you did the crime, now you do the time.” He pushed off the desk and his face softened. “This just might be what you both need. You have a week to get in the Christmas spirit. Enjoy it.”
The judge nodded to the bailiff. “Talk to Leon. He’ll give you all the details. There might even be some pictures from past years’ trees lying around. You only have a week, so work well together.” He shuffled through papers on his desk. “Court is adjourned until ten thirty, when our civil docket opens.” He peered at the bailiff and court reporter over half-moon, wire-rim glasses. “I’ll see you both back here then.”
Sadie sank onto her seat, watching the black robes swirl out of a back door behind the judge’s bench.
Colt stomped out the main doors, followed by the squeak of the attorney’s soft-sole shoes on the linoleum, leaving her in an empty courtroom.
Her first, and hopefully only, experience with the American criminal court system. It had been a harrowing couple of minutes and not what she’d expected. She’d been let off lightly. Her actions could have resulted in much more serious consequences. Staring at the American flag in the corner of the room, she took a deep breath. Then another. Her shoulders unclenched. One more week in Pineville.
Rising, she made her way out of the quiet courthouse. Ivy clung thickly to the façade, the green of the climbing vines a sharp contrast to the red brick. The two-story building sat on the corner of the town’s main square. Its manicured lawn stretched to the street, dotted with maple trees. It was the sort of courthouse she expected Andy Griffith to emerge from, not the institutional gray government buildings she was used to in Detroit and Ann Arbor. Sitting on a bench by the sidewalk, she tugged the collar of her coat up, hunching her head into her shoulders, trying to protect her cheeks from the stinging cold.
Two children raced past on bicycles, the tails of their scarves streaming behind them, shouts of delight fading as they turned a corner. She smiled, memories of herself as a child racing through this town flitting through her mind.
One more week in Pineville. She wouldn’t look on it as a hardship, but as a vacation from her real life. There were no clients she would be disappointing. The holidays were a slow time in her business, and she didn’t have another staging on her calendar until the New Year. She wouldn’t spend the next week making cold calls and stressing about her low bank balance. She would concentrate on giving Pineville the best darn Christmas tree the town had ever seen.
And if her unwilling coworker gave her any problems, she would kill him with kindness. She’d dealt with many a fussy realtor and prided herself on being able to manage people. Colt McCoy might be the most unpleasant jerk in town, but by the end of the week, she’d have him eating out of her hand.
Chapter Two
Sadie ran her hand along the wood banister of the staircase in her grandmother’s house, the oak dull beneath a layer of grime. The banister that led up to the second floor was the only thing not falling apart in the home. She remembered the summer long ago when she’d slid down the railing every day on the way to dinner. A great summer, followed by the pain of her parents’ divorce.
It had been eight months since her grandmother had passed, leaving her the three-bedroom home in Pineville. Probate had finally closed, and Sadie had planned on just an overnight trip to see what the house needed to get it ready to sell. She scraped her nail along a sticky substance on the rail. The best-laid plans and all that.
Well, she was stuck here, so she might as well make good use of the time. She wasn’t expected to begin her community service until the next morning, so she had all afternoon to clean.
A trip to Walmart later, Sadie was fully equipped—moving boxes, garbage bags, cleaning supplies, and a week’s worth of sensible clothing all stuffed into the trunk of her car.
She took the long way back, driving through the center of town, admiring the decorations. The store owners had gone all out decking the halls, each window a unique winter wonderland. A red fire truck was parked next to a newly installed Christmas tree in the center of the town square. A firefighter sat at the top of the extended ladder, his blue-clad legs swinging in the air, attaching a power cord to the top of the tree.
She turned the radio dial until she found a Christmas station, and sang along with Bing Crosby, driving the five miles out of town to her grandmother’s house. Ivy clung to the front of the two-story house, but unlike the courthouse, the ivy here just looked like an invading weed, its thick vines seeming to hold up the sagging home. She crossed to the front door, porch creaking beneath her booted feet, a poor first impression for any potential buyers.
Shouldering her way through the warped door with her purchases, she examined the work that needed to be done, and her Christmas spirit ebbed. She squared her shoulders and started five piles in the living room. Garbage, give-away, recycle, sell, and keep. Her grandmother had been the knickknack queen, and the boxes and bags were soon filled. A chipped glass candy dish went in the recycle pile, a brown-and-orange crocheted throw in the give-away. Someone might like those colors. As shelves were cleared and drawers emptied, the buckling wood and peeling paint demanded her attention. Her grandmother obviously hadn’t been able to maintain the house and Sadie had been too busy to notice. Shame weighted her heart. Her visits to her grandmother had been too few and far between.
Her cell phone rang, and she brushed her hands against her jeans. When she checked the caller ID, her heart beat a little faster. It was her potential buyer, Samantha Powers. Sadie cleared her throat and answered.
Sam got right to the point. “I’m still analyzing the numbers. And two of the clients you listed for referrals haven’t responded to me yet.”
“Assuming you hear good things from them, what are your thoughts so far?” Sadie asked. “The reports for the last quarter just came out and they show an uptick in home sales in the Ann Arbor area. That will be good news if you buy my business.”
“A very small uptick, and usually these reports are revised down a month later.”
“Well, I don’t want to wait a month to sell.” Sadie paced the living room. One of the wood planks squeaked and she stopped and bounced on it. Definitely needed fixing. “If we can’t come to an agreement soon, please let me know so I can start approaching other buyers.” There were no other buyers, but Sam didn’t have to know that.
“I don’t like to delay, either,” Sam said. “But as it stands, my offer isn’t going to match your asking price. You’ve been steadily losing clients for months. Your billings for the realtors you do still have as clients are low. I know you’ve had to make accommodations for the poor economy, but that doesn’t help the value of your business.”
She knew the woman was just being a shrewd negotiator, but hearing the truth hurt.
“Look,” Sam said. “Contact your referrals and have them get back to me. After I have that info, I’ll submit my offer. Hopefully within a couple of days.”
Sadie agreed, and they ended the call. Sitting at the Formica table in the kitchen, she plucked at the torn orange vinyl that covered the bench seat. She closed her eyes and sent up a silent prayer. She knew asking God for money really wasn’t the point of praying, but these were desperate times. She needed a Christmas miracle.
To be on the safe side, she decided to try to
improve her karma, as well. Her grandmother used to make fantastic peanut butter cookies, and Sadie had come across the recipe while clearing out the pantry. A peace offering for Mr. Colt McCoy was just what was needed, and Sadie knew no better offering than sugar and fat.
* * *
The next morning she still hoped that was the case as she waited for Colt to show up for their community service. She sat on a hard metal bench in the town square, looking at the huge tree in the center. A blue spruce, it stood at least twenty feet tall. Several large ladders lay beside it on the ground.
She blew out a breath, the air clouding in front of her mouth. Spending the next week working outside in the frigid temperatures wasn’t appealing, but Sadie knew she was lucky. Aside from an early flurry in late October, snow had been noticeably absent this winter, and although everyone loved a white Christmas, decorating a big out-of-doors tree would be much easier in the dry air.
If Colt ever arrived, and hopefully before the coffee she had bought for him turned cold. Pineville had one Starbucks, a welcome sight to Sadie, and it had been artfully designed in keeping with the small town’s aesthetic. She gazed at the streets surrounding the town square and smiled. Most of the buildings were constructed of brick or stone and nothing rose above two stories. The stately bank that anchored one corner of the square, across from the courthouse, was tastefully decorated with green boughs and red ribbon. A tiny boutique had a large wreath of silver and icy pinks and blues above its door, which matched the decorations in the window. Everywhere she looked, Christmas was shouting its arrival. Sadie loved Ann Arbor, but the charm of Pineville was unparalleled.
A low rumbling across the square caught her attention as a large black motorcycle pulled into a parking space next to her car. The driver got off his bike and pulled off his helmet. Colt McCoy. He had finally arrived, only—she checked her watch—eight minutes late.
Rising from her frosty seat, she cradled the box of cookies in her arm. She approached the man standing in front of the tree and regarding it with disgust. “Good morning, Mr. McCoy. I, uh, brought you a gingerbread latte and some cookies to snack on later.” Sadie held them out, but he made no move to accept the offerings. “I just wanted to apologize again and assure you—”
“I don’t care about any more of your apologies, Ms. Wilson. Let’s just get this done.” He turned and strode to the ladders, checking the supplies.
Her nostrils flared at the rebuff. She inhaled deeply, released it, hoping her yoga instructor was right about the calming powers of the breath. She would practice her ujjayi breathing until she didn’t want to dump the coffee over McCoy’s head.
Her rib cage filled with her eighth breath when a squad car pulled to the curb and a cop got out.
“Morning, Ms. Wilson.” The officer who had booked her and Colt strolled up. A navy blue parka enveloped his slight frame, and he blew on his hands, rubbing them together.
“Good morning, Officer Davis. Here to check up on us?” She smiled at him warmly. He had been friendly and apologetic when he fingerprinted her and she was happy to see at least one welcoming face.
“Every day, at eight a.m. and five p.m. and a couple times in between. Have to make sure you and Colt here don’t go on the lam on my watch.” Sadie thought he smiled back, but the way his teeth were chattering, it was hard to tell.
“I have an extra coffee here, Officer. I don’t suppose you’re interested?” She held up Colt’s tall red paper cup.
He took it and raised the cup in a salute. “Much obliged, ma’am.”
“If you two are done flirting,” a deep voice growled behind her, “then I have a couple of questions for you, Jerome.”
Sadie started and spun around. “Don’t sneak up on people,” she yelled at him, her hand pressed to her chest. Moderating her voice, she added, “It isn’t polite.”
“Hey, what’s going on here?” another voice called from behind them.
“Gaaaaw!” Sadie turned so fast the box of cookies flew out of her hands. Officer Davis bent to retrieve them, valiantly trying to smother his smile. Colt wasn’t so polite, making no attempt to hide his derisive snort.
“Miss Shaw. Mrs. Garcia.” Officer Davis tipped his hat to the two older women who had joined the group. “Have you met Sadie Wilson?”
The smaller woman stepped forward, lips pinched, and gave Sadie a slow perusal. Sadie squirmed. She didn’t understand how a woman wearing orthopedic shoes could look so intimidating.
“I am Miss Eugenie Shaw.” She cocked her head toward her companion. “This is Deborah Garcia. How do you do?”
Sadie nodded to both women, fought the urge to curtsy. Mrs. Garcia’s matching orthopedics were paired with knee-high stockings, the tops rolled down just below the hem of her thick coat, a look that made the woman seem a little less daunting than her friend.
Something wet touched Sadie’s fingers. She glanced down and bit back a scream so a muffled squeak was the only sound to escape her lips. She planted her feet on the park bench seat faster than a five-year-old unwrapping a present.
Colt put his hands on his trim hips. “What now? Are you always this skittish?”
She pointed a shaky finger at the large mop of brown and gray hair that lumbered toward the bench. “R.O.U.S.!”
“R.O.U. what?”
A deep rumble issued from Officer Davis’s chest. “R.O.U.S., Rodent of Unusual Size.” Colt’s face continued to be covered by a blank look. “From The Princess Bride? Man, you have to get out more.”
The shaggy beast sniffed Sadie’s sneakers. Inching backward, she peeked through her bangs at the four people on the ground staring up at her. The animal didn’t appear threatening and she was beginning to feel a tad foolish. Okay, really, really foolish. Still, it wasn’t every day that a childhood nightmare licked your feet.
Officer Davis gave her his hand and helped her down from the bench. “That’s just ole Shep, Ms. Wilson. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“And Shep is a . . . dog?”
“Of course he’s a dog,” Miss Shaw exclaimed. She tugged at her cloche hat, settling it more firmly on her steel-gray hair. “You have no call to be insulting my dog.”
“I didn’t mean—”
Colt interrupted her. “Jerome, about the tree—”
“Yes, about the tree,” the beast’s owner said. Sadie didn’t bother trying to hide her smirk from Colt. He’d had no problem interrupting Sadie, and turnabout was fair play. “Officer Davis, I didn’t think we were getting a town tree this year.” Miss Shaw dug in her purse, emerging with a cell phone two generations ahead of Sadie’s own smartphone. She pulled the tips of her mittens back, exposing fingerless gloves, and her thumbs flew over the screen. “Yes, there’s nothing in the city council minutes about us getting a tree.”
“Well, Miss Shaw, we weren’t going to get a tree since we didn’t have anyone to decorate it.”
Mrs. Garcia harrumphed loudly, her dyed black ringlets quivering along with the skin hanging under her neck. She pulled out her own phone, started searching.
Miss Shaw pulled a red-and-white striped mint from her pocket, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth. “Who volunteered?”
Officer Davis’s mocha skin blushed lightly and his gaze flickered to Sadie. “Well, no one volunteered, as such, but Colt and Ms. Wilson here are going to be decorating the tree this year.”
“Mr. McCoy . . .” Miss Shaw looked at Sadie, then at Colt, her brow furrowed.
“What do you mean they didn’t volunteer?” Mrs. Garcia asked. She wrapped a loose end of her knitted red-and-green scarf around the rolls of her neck.
“Judge Nichols ordered them to decorate the tree as their community service,” Officer Davis said behind his cup of coffee.
Mrs. Garcia’s eyes narrowed. “Do you mean to tell me that criminals will be decorating our Christmas tree?”
Miss Shaw covered her mouth with her mittened hand and eyed Sadie like she was something found on the bottom of Santa’s boot.
Colt stepped next to Sadie. She eased back to put the burly man between her and the sausage-shaped bag of hair that was still sniffing around like a pig hunting for a truffle. It wasn’t normal for a dog to have that much fur. It just couldn’t be. “That’s right, Mrs. Garcia,” Colt said. “We’re a real Bonnie and Clyde. Now if you ladies don’t mind, we need to get to work. Creating a safe Christmas tree takes time.”
“How dare—” A sharp elbow interrupted Mrs. Garcia.
Miss Shaw shook her head at her friend. “It’s not worth arguing with him. He doesn’t make the decisions around here.” She peered down her nose at Officer Davis, an impressive feat for such a short woman. “The mayor will hear about this. We are not without supporters in this town.”
“That’s right,” Mrs. Garcia said. “We have over two hundred followers on Twitter. We can start a campaign.”
Two hundred? Sadie viewed the women with new respect. How did two grandmas have that many followers? She only had forty-eight. Which could explain why her sales were slumping.
“Come along, Deborah,” Miss Shaw said, the red-and-white mint peeking out of her mouth as she spoke. “This calls for immediate action.”
Frowning, Mrs. Garcia put her phone in her purse. “Yes, but I still need to get to the yarn store. You know I ran out of the red wool.”
“We can do both,” Miss Shaw hissed at her friend. Turning to Colt and Sadie, she said, “Don’t get too comfortable with your positions. You won’t be decorating the tree for long.”
“I wish,” Colt muttered.
The women hooked their arms together and strode off, noses in the air. Shep dutifully waddled after them. Sadie looked from them, to Colt, to Officer Davis, thoroughly confused. There seemed to be some inside information she was missing.
“Jerome,” Colt said. “Where are all the supplies? The lights, the ornaments?”
“Oh, yeah.” Officer Davis pulled a piece of plastic from his back pocket. “This is a city debit card. The limit for the tree decorations is two thousand dollars. Get what you need.”
The Christmas Tree Page 2