The Christmas Tree Keeper: A Novel

by Tamara Passey

  “I saw the yellow tape outside. It looks like our apartment is off limits. For how long?” Angela asked.

  “Maybe a day or two. We’ll find out from the fire department soon.”

  “Can we get some of our things, like Mrs. Shaw?” Angela didn’t have presents to retrieve; she was just hoping for a change of clothes. “Do you have any idea how much smoke damage we had?”

  “I don’t, but yes, you can get what you need,” Mr. Buckley said.

  Angela noticed his disheveled hair and shirttail hanging out of his pants.

  “Where will you be staying?” he asked.

  There was an awkward silence as Angela looked at Caroline.

  “I’m not sure right now.”

  “Didn’t I tell you? We have a few vacant apartments in Building A. They’re not furnished, of course, but they’re available.”

  “For us? Really? Thank you. That’s a relief.”

  “Unit 16 is a one-bedroom apartment like you have now. But you might like unit 12. It’s a two-bedroom ground level.”

  “That sounds nice. Is there an additional cost for the two-bedroom? Maybe we’d better stick with the smaller one.”

  “There’s no cost. The owners have authorized me to use any vacant units we have as emergency housing for anyone with a damaged apartment. They even have some vacancies at a sister property if we fill up here.”

  The phone rang, and he turned his back on them as he answered it.

  Caroline jumped up and down. “Does this mean I get my own room?” She started coughing. “I didn’t even ask for that for Christmas.”

  “Maybe, but only for a few days,” Angela answered. “We can’t afford the rent for a two-bedroom.”

  Mr. Buckley finished and returned to Angela. “What were we doing? With the fire, the phones haven’t stopped ringing. You know, Angie, I could use your help here now more than ever. What are your hours at the school? What do you say? Could you help me for a few hours next week?”

  Angela heard what he said about the school and wondered exactly how long it would be before Caroline figured it out.

  Please, for once, don’t understand what he’s saying.

  “My mom doesn’t have a job at the school yet,” Caroline said.

  Mr. Buckley raised his eyebrows.

  “I’ve had my orientation, but I don’t have a schedule yet,” Angela blurted out.

  Is that a lie?

  “So come in on Monday,” he said.

  The crowded room, her daughter’s admission—what could she say?

  “Okay. We’ll get settled this weekend, and I guess I’ll be here Monday,” she replied.

  He gave Angela the key to unit 12 and they walked over to it. It was located in Building A, the building connected to the rental office.

  How convenient, Mr. Buckley.

  The apartment had more than an extra bedroom—the kitchen and the family room were both larger, and the ground-level patio had room for a table and chairs. Caroline ran from room to room and identified the master bedroom.

  “Mom, you get a room with a bathroom all to yourself,” she exclaimed.

  “Don’t run so much. You need to rest today.”

  Angela checked the kitchen for any odd smells in the fridge and microwave. The appliances were clean, and there was a combination of new carpet and fresh paint smell in the air.

  “This is so great!” Caroline exclaimed.

  How will she feel when we have to return to our tiny one-bedroom apartment in a few days?

  “Come on—we’ve got work to do if we’re going to sleep here tonight.”

  Angela parked the truck as close to the bottom of the stairwell as the caution tape would allow. She explained to Caroline that they were only bringing the things they most needed, as they would have to bring everything back. When they walked through the door, Angela braced herself for the worst.

  “I can still smell smoke,” Caroline said.

  Angela exhaled and took another breath. “Yeah, I’m sure it will smell like this for a while.”

  “The fire didn’t get this far. Everything’s still here,” she observed. “It just smells like a chimney.”

  Angela pulled a duffle bag and backpack from the closet, gave one to Caroline, and instructed her to pack enough clothes for the weekend. She checked her stack of mail for any bills that needed to be paid and grabbed a few bags and filled them with groceries she had bought the day before.

  Was that just yesterday?

  While they were walking out the door, Caroline stopped and looked at the Christmas tree.

  “Can we come back for this?” she asked.

  “The tree? Oh, Caroline, I don’t think so. We’re not going to haul it down the stairs and across the courtyard for two or three days. It’s already decorated.” Was this the start of a new battle?

  “Can we ask Mr. Shafer for a tree for our new apartment?” Caroline asked.

  Reminded of the conversation with Mark, Angela felt a twinge of guilt. She had no plans to call and ask for a tree for an apartment they would only be in for a couple of days, but she wished she’d been more gracious when he offered.

  “Sweetheart, we don’t have a ‘new’ apartment. We’re staying in a temporary one. We’re coming back in a few days.”

  Caroline looked crushed.

  “Can we bring something for Christmas?”

  “Like what?”

  “Can I bring your nativity set?” she asked as she looked at it longingly.

  Angela set the grocery bags down in front of the door. She picked up the case and began putting the pieces into their corresponding velvet compartments. Caroline helped. The place for the lamb remained empty.

  “I’m sorry I lost the lamb,” Caroline said.

  “It’s okay,” Angela insisted. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Will we ever find it?”

  “Maybe,” she said. Probably not.

  “What did Florinda tell you about the wise men?” Caroline asked.

  Angela sighed. Her daughter’s energy seemed to increase as Angela’s waned.

  “The wise men? ‘Don’t give up your search for Jesus,’ I think she said.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “The wise men travelled a great distance. It must have been a long journey, but they didn’t stop until they found Jesus as a child.” Angela almost closed the case, but Caroline reached for another piece.

  “What about him? What did she say about Joseph?”

  Too worn out to resist her daughter’s earnest inquiry, Angela explained, “Florinda said, ‘when you find someone as loving and as loyal as Joseph, keep him close to your heart.’ ”

  Caroline reached for the figure and tilted her head. “You haven’t found someone like that yet, have you?” she asked.

  Angela took the figure back, put it in the case and closed it. She spoke the obvious answer hanging in the air.

  “No. I haven’t.”

  Chapter 12

  One week since Mark accepted John Jackson’s offer, and one week since he bought the ring. The media attention had subsided, just as Donna said it would. He and John settled on the details of the sale. Five acres. Mark had saved five acres of the land that Papa’s cabin and the craft barn were on. The tentative close date was early February—a relatively short time considering the size of the farm, yet too long to keep the sale a secret from Papa. And much too long for Mark to carry Natalie’s ring around in his coat pocket.

  Maybe an engagement would be a good diversion.

  The last thing he needed to secure financing for the home on Hickory Street was some of the money John Jackson had promised him for his “help” with the sale. If he could have half of what John had promised, he could have things in place before Christmas.

  He called Dave on his way to pick up flowers for Natalie. “Hey, I’ve got a question for you,” Mark said as he drove.

  “Does it have to do with putting in an offer?”

  “I’m still waiting
on that one. It should be soon, though.” Mark didn’t wait to hear Dave’s impatient answer. “So I was wondering. Could we go see the house again, with Natalie? I really want her to see it.”

  “And you probably want to go tonight, right?” Dave asked.

  “Is that okay? Do you have plans? We’re kind of celebrating something.” Mark didn’t explain further.

  Dave sighed into the phone. “How about five o’clock?”

  “Great. One more thing. When we’re done looking at it, could you, I don’t know, leave us alone for a few minutes?”

  “Yeah, sure—wait. How many minutes?”

  “Five or maybe ten? I’m asking her to marry me.” Mark’s stomach tightened in anticipation as he said it out loud.

  “Whoa, Mark. You’re proposing? At a house you don’t own yet? And you only need five or ten minutes? I’m not an expert, but when I proposed to Crystal, I took her out for half the day. We went down to the Gorge, one of her favorite places. And then we came back to town and I proposed at the Gazebo. It was the Fourth of July. I timed it right before the fireworks,” Dave bragged.

  “I remember you telling me about that.”

  Actually, I remember you telling everyone about that.

  “I can’t leave you there for an hour.” Dave said.

  Mark clenched his jaw. He pulled into the parking lot of the flower shop.

  “I guess I’m not as cool as you are—but Natalie is excited about the music studio. I think she’ll think it’s romantic. How about fifteen minutes?”

  Dave was silent.

  “For old time’s sake?”

  “Okay, Mark. Fifteen minutes. It’s not like I could lose my license or anything. If I did, I’d need my old job pruning trees at your farm.” Dave laughed. Mark thanked him and ended the call.

  He stared at the varied arrangements of flowers. He had an unexpected memory of the sunflower bag from the picture of his mom. He looked around, but certainly didn’t see any sunflower bouquets. He finally asked for a dozen red roses.

  She wouldn’t understand the sunflowers anyway.

  Back at the farm, Mark entered the side door of the farmhouse and walked through the dining room to hide the flowers in the kitchen. Not before Papa saw him and followed him inside.

  “A man only has a few reasons to carry a bouquet of roses like that.” He said.

  “Hi Papa, I’m setting these down and coming right out.”

  “Either he’s done something wrong ... or he’s about to do something right.” Papa smiled. “Which is it?”

  “Couldn’t it be a special occasion, like a birthday?” Mark asked.

  “It could. So is it Natalie’s birthday?”

  Mark set the flowers in a vase he found and sighed. Well, here goes.

  “No, I’m asking Natalie to marry me tonight.”

  “Well I’d say it’s ‘bout time.”

  “She still needs to say yes,” Mark added.

  “Why wouldn’t she?” Papa finished a drink of water, set the glass down and walked towards the door. “Good idea, proposing now. If she likes, she can spend time here at the farm this Christmas. She’ll get a good idea of the life she has waiting for her.”

  Mark clanged the vase against the side of the counter. At least it wasn’t a question and he could pretend to focus on the flowers. “I’ll be out in a few minutes.” He said.

  He did his best to help with customers for a few hours, but he kept rehearsing the proposal in his mind. He left the sales lot and found Brett loading a tree onto one of the farm trucks.

  “What are you doing there?” Mark asked.

  “We got a call from Mr. Buckley at the Blackstone Apartments. He asked if we still had a tree for one of their residents, one who had to relocate after the fire.”

  “Great—I’m glad he called us.” Mark walked over and helped him secure the tree. “I’ll deliver this one.”

  “Are you sure?” Brett asked. “I don’t mind doing it.”

  Mark looked at his watch. He had several more hours before he could pick up Natalie.

  “Thanks, but I’ve got it.”

  Anything to help pass the time.

  Chapter 13

  The fire department gave the clearance for residents to move back into the apartments not damaged by the fire. For a week, Mr. Buckley had encouraged Angela to stay in the larger, temporary apartment. He had valid reasons—there weren’t any prospective tenants interested in it, and the management company had approved the “emergency housing” stay for the entire month. However, she knew Mr. Buckley had at least one more reason—she was much closer to the office.

  Living out of a backpack and sleeping on the floor was getting old for Angela, but Caroline loved her own room. Angela told her they would stay for a few more days and then move back.

  “How about until the last day of school before Christmas break,” Caroline bargained.

  “That’s a week and half away!” Angela noticed her daughter’s face and softened. “We’ll see.”

  As for the rental office, she couldn’t complain about the convenience of the location or the hours. The “commute” consisted of a short walk, less than a block from her temporary apartment, and she could work during the time Caroline was at school. She only had to ignore one irritation.

  “How are ya today, Angie?” Mr. Buckley asked when she arrived.

  “Fine and you?” She managed to sound civil, though cheerful was a stretch.

  Should I ask him to call me Angela?

  “If you have a minute, I need to run something by you,” he said.

  He’s in a good mood. Maybe he won’t be offended.

  “Sure. What’s up?”

  “You’re doing a great job here. I can’t tell you how nice it has been this week, having your help with things.” He rocked back in his desk chair. “You’ve learned the software better than me.”

  That’s not hard to do.

  “Anyway, Angie, I thought I’d check—”

  She’d reached her limit. “I haven’t mentioned this before, but I prefer ‘Angela’,” she said as casually as she could.

  “I—I didn’t realize.”

  He looked a little wounded.

  “My ex-husband used to call me ‘Angie,’ so I’d rather be called something else.”

  “Say no more. ‘Angela’ it is. While we’re at it, you can call me ‘Don’.” He brightened. “No more Mr. Buckley around here.”

  Terrific.

  “So, like I was saying, I checked with our management company, and I worked out a deal for you. If you continue to work at least twenty hours a week, you can stay in unit 12 for a reduced rate.” He tapped his pen on the desk and looked expectantly at Angela.

  “What kind of a reduced rate?”

  I don’t remember asking you to work out a deal for me.

  “That’s the best part. It turns out to be a hundred dollars less than what you’re paying in the one-bedroom. That’s a steal!”

  “Yeah, that sounds good, but about the ‘twenty hours’ requirement,” she began. “Christmas break starts next week. Once Caroline is out of school, I won’t have a sitter. Mrs. Shaw won’t be back until January. I’m not in a position to commit to that many hours.”

  “We can fudge it. I mean I’ll take care of it, and you can move the rest of your stuff this weekend.” He beamed.

  Fudge?

  “Mr. Buckley, I don’t feel right—”

  “Don—call me Don. Yes, it’s a lot to take in. Believe me, I was surprised myself. They usually offer reduced rates to full-time employees, but with all you’ve been through, they agreed. And let’s keep this quiet. I’ve had a few other residents ask about the assistant manager position.”

  “Uh, I don’t know what to say,” she said

  How do I get in to these predicaments? Of course I’d like to live in a larger apartment for less money. But why does that have to include working for ‘Don’?

  “The school is supposed to call me back anytime. I d
on’t know what my schedule will be.”

  “Even if you have to work evenings, that’s fine. Don’t worry about the hours. I said I’ll take care of that.” He stood and put on his coat. “I’ve got to check on unit 43—Walter parked his car in front of the dumpsters again. I’m going to have to buy cones or something.”

  Angela settled in at her makeshift desk.

  “One more thing. I know Caroline has been begging you to move your tree. I called the Shafer Farm. You knew they had donated trees, right? They’ll be delivering one to your new apartment later this afternoon.” He flashed a proud grin and walked out the door.

  Angela fumed to herself. Who did he think he was? Caroline would be happy, but he had no right to make that call for her. She allowed the work of processing two rental applications to take her mind off things. She had a couple of hours before she left to pick up Caroline from school.

  A tenant came in and asked for Mr. Buckley. He hadn’t returned so Angela offered to help the tenant if she could. The resident explained that she needed to renew her lease.

  Angela found the file that contained renewal contracts. Mr. Buckley hadn’t trained her on these, but she’d learned the new tenant lease and this looked much simpler. There was already a pre-filled contract with the woman’s name on it in the file. It didn’t take more than ten minutes to finish, and when they were done, Angela was alone in the office again. She looked for the place to put the completed contract.

  She flipped through a folder with more unsigned renewal contracts. A few had “rewrite for accuracy” scrawled across the top. She scanned over the printed pages, obviously sent from the home office, which looked more accurate than Mr. Buckley’s handwritten ones. She found the “original” lease of the one she had just completed.

  That’s unusual.

  There it was in the middle of the page, the first month’s discount for renewing—gone. And in its place was the regular rental rate.

  What is he doing?

  Angela scoured the pages, looking for an explanation. She looked at other leases and found the same pattern. The home office sent contracts that contained a discount, and he removed it. It didn’t add up—literally. She checked some of the recent deposit logs and had a sinking feeling. He was charging residents a higher rate than what the home office expected. She couldn’t figure out how he was putting the extra money in his own pocket, but something was wrong. She heard a noise and shoved the file closed. She was late to pick up Caroline. She returned the file to the drawer and grabbed her coat.