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“You are amazing!” Cameron, like her grandma, was a hugger.
“Thank you, ladies. I just put the finishing touches on what was already here and invited everyone to a party.” They had been here since early this morning helping with a million details and were two of the tasting room’s biggest fans. Wilson was so lucky to be joining this family.
“It was a little more than that. Your marketing blitz is all anyone can talk about. The entire chamber of commerce planned to come by today. And every vacationer I’ve talked tolately can’t wait for The Stomp in two weeks.” Amaryllis patted me on the back.
“Jude told me all the rental houses that Beautiful Hills manages are booked for that weekend. It’s got to be The Stomp. You are incredible.” The sincerity that radiated from Cameron made me press a hand to my chest, where a sudden ache had developed.
With a murmured thank you, I tried to absorb their praise, hardly able to believe it despite knowing that The Stomp was on its way to selling out.
“Enough stroking your ego, let’s shop.” Amaryllis offered Cameron and me her elbows, and the three of us linked arms, all but skipping toward the crafts.
I should have run outside to check on the food trucks, but I didn’t want to give up this moment. These women were special, and I wanted to enjoy the time I had with them before I left Elmer.
As we headed for the arts and crafts, we passed the Blue Star farm subscription box signup table. Atley and Jameson were both talking to customers. Jameson was in his element flashing his sexy grin at an older woman who held a brochure describing the Blue Star farm-to-table program. Atley had his arms crossed over his chest, and his expression looked like he’d smelled one of Major’s dog farts. He wouldn’t sell any grass-raised organic beef like that.
I almost felt bad for him… almost.
“Where did you find all the artists for today?” Cameron asked, her eyes skimming over a table filled with hand-blown glass vases in a rainbow of colors.
“I connected with this social media influencer from Austin who goes by hillcountrygirl, and she had a list of local arts and crafts vendors she shared with me. She’s here somewhere. Lookfor a twenty-something-year-old with a selfie stick and long braids; that’s her.”
“It’s a really superb selection.” Amaryllis touched a reverent finger to a hand-carved wooden charcuterie board. The artist behind the table grinned with pride. It was a beautiful piece. Tempting, but I already had seventeen suitcases. I didn’t need eighteen.
“Christmas in August? I’m in.” Cameron rushed to the next table. The ceramics artist had everything holiday from ornaments, frames, and holiday villages to menorahs and dreidels. “I want to do two trees at the ranch house this year. The one is going to be in the den with all the ornaments that Bailey and I have always had. Then in the living room, we’re going to do another tree with all new stuff since Wilson has nothing.”
“Hold up. My brother said he had nothing? You need to call our mom. There are literally boxes of his Christmas keepsakes in the basement. From handmade kindergarten macaroni ornaments to the Christmas village from our grandparents. It’s all there in Peoria.”
“Why didn’t he tell me?”
“Our parents’ basement is the land that time forgot. Where do you think I got seventeen suitcases when I came here? It’s a black hole filled with artifacts from days gone by. And when we were kids, Wilson was afraid to go down there. Little wonder he blocked out the half dozen Christmas boxes with his name on them.”
There were just as many with my name on them in that basement. Not to mention other keepsakes like yearbooks and sports trophies. I shuddered, thinking about hauling even more stuff around when I moved in the future. My parents better not get any ideas about downsizing or I was in big trouble.
“Did you know in California he had a company that would deliver a fully decorated tree?” Cameron popped a hand on her hip as she asked me the question.
I shook my head.
“He would make a call and bam! Christmas would show up—wreaths, lights, everything. Then he’d have a Bio-ID work party and the Christmas company would come back and take it all down.”
“That’s so wrong.” Amaryllis pressed a hand to her chest in horror.
“Very efficient. Sounds exactly like my brother.”
Cameron picked up a lovely blue and silver star ornament, turning it over a few times in her palm. “Could you make me fifty of these?” she asked the artist with a sweet smile that would have melted the biggest grinch’s heart.
“Absolutely. Plenty of time for a special order.” The artist was a white-haired man with a handlebar mustache and a friendly demeanor. “Let me get an order form.” He patted the chest pocket of his shirt, looking for a pen.
“I can put the stars on both trees to give a little bit of cohesion. You know?” Cameron was looking at the other ornaments and gathering up those she liked.
Amaryllis and I oh-ed and ah-ed over the trinkets. They were little works of art, every detail from the snowman’s nose to the feathers on the angel’s wings rendered with loving care. A straw cowboy hat with a holly sprig tucked in the band caught my eye. I held it, thinking of the day I stole Atley’s hat.
I paid cash for the ornament before the artist started writing up the particulars for Cameron’s special order. I’d find a place for the hat in one of my seventeen suitcases. A memento of this day and the one in the barn.
“I’d better get back to it.” I pecked Cameron and Amaryllis on the cheeks and wound my way back into the sea of people.The bar looked slightly less chaotic, so that was good. The temp events staff we hired from the same company that provided people for the Fourth of July BBQ were doing a great job keeping on top of the mundane but important things, like trash pick-up and clearing tables.
It looked like the tasting room’s soft open was a success. Next week we’d start regular tasting room hours Thursday through Sunday—weather and special events permitting. If Gabriel agreed, the bartender with the nose ring was my pick for the first tasting room employee.
Holy shit. I’d pulled this off. The thought rolled around in my head as I leaned a shoulder against the wall at the back of the dancehall. I had help, but so did anyone in business. This would kick my resume up a big notch. After today, I’d never again brainstorm sales ideas for toilet paper, toothbrushes, or air freshener. Hallelujah.
