“Are you ready to eat?”
“I am.”
They served themselves and took their plates over to the large table. They ate dinner, sharing stories about their pasts between cheesy bites of lasagna.
“I’m so glad you already promised me a doggy bag, because I want to eat this every day for a week. It’s so good.”
Tucker craved more of her easy enthusiasm and confidence.I could picture myself eating these leftovers with this woman every day in every week.
Chapter Twenty-two
Sheila set her napkin down and took another sip of wine. “That was the best lasagna I’ve ever had, and I’ve been to the best Italian restaurants in the country. Promise me that you won’t make that for me for at least a year.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s so good. I just ate my weight in it. It’ll take me three weeks to work those calories off.”
He laughed. “I think you’ll be fine.”
She moaned. “I don’t know about that.”
“Too full to get up and move around?”
She cut her eyes at him. “What do you have in mind?”
“Well, I was thinking that if you were up to it, we could run over to Joe’s tree farm and you could help me pick out my Christmas tree.”
“Do I have to walk there?”
“It’s not far, but somehow I don’t picture you carrying your half of a sappy fresh Christmas tree with those fancy fingernails and pretty outfit.”
“You’ve got that right. I can point and pick, but you’re onyour own lugging a tree around like a lumberjack and getting all sticky.”
“Have you ever been to a Christmas tree farm?”
“I’ve always been more the artificial tree kind of girl, and I’m not embarrassed to admit it.”
“Shameful.” He got up and walked around to pull out her chair. “Come on. I want to treat you to the real experience.”
She got up and they cleared the table together, making quick work of it, and then they bundled up in their coats. Tucker wrapped a scarf around his neck and pulled a camel-colored one from the coatrack next to the door and spun it around hers. “You’ll need to keep your neck warm. The wind is cold up there.” His warm hand grazed her cheek.
“Thank you.”
They walked outside and got in the truck. He turned the radio to an all-Christmas-song station. They hummed and sang as they drove to the other side of the mountain.
Tucker turned down the radio and pointed out a big Christmassy barn quilt with the wordsJOE’S CHRISTMAS TREE FARMarched above it in pretty scrolling white letters that covered the entire side of an old red barn. “This tree farm actually backs up to Natalie’s property.”
“I never saw anything next to her.” That didn’t make sense to her. “She’s out in the wilderness.”
“Well, yeah, the tree farm is beyond a pretty deep area of trees, like a hundred acres, but their land connects. The Christmas tree farm has been in Joe’s family for six generations. They even had a Norway spruce go to the White House for the Blue Room back in 1923. It was a pretty big deal.”
“Those are the kind with the big pine cones. Your favorite.”
“Yes. That kind. It’s Joe’s specialty, although over the years they expanded. Now they grow several types of trees.”
The temperature display on the dashboard read thirty-eight degrees, and the heavy cloud cover made the night sky look inky black.
Along the winding mountain road, red flags with bright green Christmas trees on them confirmed they were still on the right path, but she was beginning to wonder if they would ever get there.
