“Really,” I said. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be than with family for the holiday.”
And by the sounds of things, someone needed to keep an eye on Dad and Hopper both.
CHAPTER 2
HOPPER
I carried a pricklyDouglas fir toward the parking lot, pine needles crunching under my feet as I tromped between rows of Christmas trees at the Grisold farm, where I’d taken over managing day-to-day operations.
Lula Miller trotted beside me, her large red handbag swinging between us. She had her silvery hair pulled into two pigtails, tied up with red bows. They swung with every step, making her look like the oldest little girl ever, but also one of the cheeriest. Come to think of it, I’d never seen Lula without a wide smile and a skip in her step.
“Oh my, that looks heavy!” Her voice was breathy, and I shortened my stride, realizing I was making her rush. It would be bad for business to cause a customer to drop from overexertion. “Thank you so much for helping me out. I can’t wait to surprise Tom!”
I adjusted my grip on the tree, balancing it over my shoulder in a fireman’s carry. It was on the smaller side, so I wasn’t even breaking a sweat. “No worries. You’re getting started early this year, huh?”
Christmas tree season hadn’t really taken off yet, so Lula was our only customer today. I was spending most of my time gettingthe farm ready for the weekend after Thanksgiving, when we’d get the most customers. After that, it’d slow down again.
I’d deliver some trees to a couple of hardware stores for convenient in-town shopping, and we’d get a few day-trippers coming out for a family holiday experience, but more and more, folks went for the convenience of artificial trees.
“I want it all decorated before our Thanksgiving dinner,” Lula said. “Tom’s whole family is coming over. His son and wife, his grandson Evan and his husband, Dawson, Evan’s two sisters, even Dawson’s cousin Callista and her girlfriend, Nat, are planning to pop by briefly. It should be really lovely!”
“Sounds great. That’s a lot of family, but don’t you have some children, too?”
She waved her hand. “My son is too busy being a fancy surgeon in New York. You know how it is.”
“Mm.” I didn’t, really. I couldn’t imagine putting some big-city career ahead of my mother. I’d lost her when I was nineteen, and I’d give anything to have just one more day with her. Couldn’t Lula’s son save lives here? Why weren’t we deserving of a great surgeon? And the Grisolds’ son, Noel, could sure asheckcook anywhere, right?
“What about the Grisolds?” Lula asked as if plucking the thought form my mind. “Are you all going to have a big Thanksgiving this year?”
“Oh, uh…” Her casual way of including me in the Grisold family threw me, but it wasn’t like it was untrue. In some ways, they were my family just as much, if not more, than my father. He spent most of his time in front of the TV with a six-pack, drowning his grief as best he could. “I imagine we’ll do something. I haven’t asked Maggie yet.”
Lula nodded. “It’s such a lovely place for a holiday meal. You’ll have a beautiful setting for it.”
I propped the tree against the side of her pink Jeep Renegade, chuckling at how veryBarbieit was. How veryLulathat was, too. “You’re right about that. I love this place.”
“You’re sure lucky to call it home,” Lula said.
My heart gave a twinge because as much as I wanted it to be home, it wasn’t. Not really. My parents’ farm, the next tract over, had been sold off to pay medical bills that insurance didn’t cover. Not that it mattered in the end. We’d lost Mom, anyway. Dad had a rental in Riverton, but the Grisolds let me stay in a spare room here to save me a commute.
“Well, let’s get you ready to go,” I said brusquely, done with the topic of home and family.
Lula couldn’t know that she was rubbing against scabs not fully healed, but I didn’t want to explain my change of mood. I stepped up onto the Jeep bumper and hauled the tree up to the roof. Up here, Lula couldn’t see my face or expect much conversation with me. She handed me the tie-downs so I could secure the tree in place, and I was happy to lose myself in the task.
A few minutes later, she was slipping into her car and driving down the rutted dirt road toward the blacktop highway that would take her back to Granville. Grisold Christmas Tree Farm was about twenty miles from Granville and twenty-five from Riverton, so we got business from both towns. Good thing, too, as even between the both of them, they barely kept us afloat these days.
I’d been making calls to some department stores farther afield. If we could sell trees in Lincoln or Omaha, it would make a huge difference for us. But they all had suppliers in place, and I couldn’t outmatch their prices. I wasn’t sure what else to try, though. I could plant trees, care for them, cut them down, and cart them around. But I didn’t have a head for business.
“Hopper!” Maggie called from the porch, waving frantically.
My heart jumped into my throat, and I raced across the yard between us, weaving around hay bales near a fire pit where we sometimes roasted marshmallows, a stand of cut trees, and a weathered outdoor picnic table.
“Is Ed okay?” I gasped between big gulps of air. Shit, it’d been too long since I ran. Even in my high school football days, I was never a rusher.
“Ed? He’s fine.”
“Oh. Then what…”
“Oh, honey!” She raised a hand to my cheek, making my stubble prickle. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you. I was just so excited.”
