Chapter Seven
After breakfast, Rillstood in the inn’s enormous common area, staring at the mounds of dusty boxes surrounding her. She’d forgotten just how many decorations it took to turn the inn into a Christmas paradise. There were at least eight boxes of lighted garland alone. Four boxes of ornaments were labelled for the main tree, and there was a small box dedicated to each guest room. Every room and cabin had a theme. Snowmen, nutcrackers, Santa, winter wonderland. There was even one box labelled bells. There were holiday linens for the dining room. It would take her days to get it all set out.
The front door burst open and Owen struggled in, the trunk of an enormous evergreen tree under his arm.
“Where in the world did you get that? I was planning on hauling down the artificial tree I found in the attic.”
He clutched his chest and feigned a gasp. “A fake tree at the Sleigh Bells Inn? Are you crazy? We’d never use a fake tree. We are all about Christmas here. How could we not be with a name like Sleigh Bells Inn? It’s a real tree all the way. I chopped it down other day. It’s been standing in a bucket of water in the garage, waiting for me to put it up. The branches will be nicely settled in no time at all. Grab an end and help me get it through the door. I’ve got the stand on the porch.”
She laughed in delight and helped him pull the tree inside. Thank heaven the lobby had a vaulted ceiling. The tree had to be twelve feet tall. It was enormous. It was perfect. Symmetrical, with branches thick enough to be full, but thin enough to leave plenty of room for decorations. She leaned closer and inhaled deeply. Was there anything better than the fresh scent of spruce?
“I do love blue spruce. I think it’s my favorite evergreen,” she said.
“I’m more of a Scot’s pine man myself. But Ophelia asked for blue spruce, so that’s what I cut. Plus, I planted two seedlings where I took this one from.”
“Thank you. That’s a tradition my grandfather started. He said if you were going to take from the earth, you needed to give back. Where did you get seedlings this time of year?”
“Your aunt anticipated needing them. She buys them from a local company and they ship them frozen. She just kept them that way. From freezer to earth, to thaw and grow in the spring.”
They were struggling to get it in the stand and upright when their guests came down from their rooms.
Sixty-year-old Thomas hurried to their aid and was quickly joined by Johnathon, a thirty-year-old on his honeymoon. Cheers broke out when they finally stabilized the tree in front of the windows.
Everyone stood back to admire their work.
“That’s one heck of a tree,” Johnathon exclaimed pushing back his shaggy brown hair.
“It’s perfect,” his wife Carrie agreed, clapping her hands. Her smile was contagious.
“I hope we have enough lights,” Rill said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a tree this big indoors before. Except maybe at the mall. It’s going to take forever to decorate.” Inspiration struck. “Unless you all want to chip in and help. We’ll have a tree decorating party!”
“Oh, can we?” Ozitta, Thomas’s wife, asked. “We won’t have a tree at home this year. I’d love to help.”
“The more the merrier. Come,” Rill invited, “let’s see what’s in all these boxes.”
“What if the men start hanging lights and garland around the inn?” Owen suggested.
“Is there a ladder? We’ll need help getting to the top of the tree. Oh, and we’ll need Christmas music.” Rill looked at Owen hopefully.
“You start the music. I’ll get the large step ladder,” Owen said.
“I have a box of chocolates in my room.” Carrie hurried back upstairs. She returned, enormous box of chocolates in her hand, before Rill found her phone to start streaming music.
“I make an amazing holiday punch,” Ozitta said. “It’s my Creole grandmother’s recipe. I can make it if you want. It’s an alcohol-free hot cider drink similar to mulled wine. It’s pretty spicy, but I can tone it down. Not everyone likes food as spicy as I do. With one side of my family Hispanic and the other Creole, I like it spicy and hot.”
“Too hot sometimes,” Thomas agreed. “But when she tones it down, it’s amazing. Hot or cold.”
“Only you would drink hot cider after it’s cold.” She waggled her finger at her husband.
“And you love me for it.” Thomas kissed the tip of her nose. They were adorable together. Their interactions started a longing deep inside Rill.
