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I’ve always loved the experience of going to pick out the tree, but I guess skipping out this year is okay, considering I’ll be able to spend time with Lola.
“Yeah, that should work,” I tell him before turning to face Jack. “As long as that’s all right with you.”
“That’s fine.”
His apprehensive expression doesn’t convince me, but I offer him a smile in thanks anyway.
Dylan hasn’t been particularly receptive to me bringing Jack home, so hopefully, they can get to know each other better while picking out the perfect Christmas tree. One can only hope.
9
JACK
“YOU’VE GOT TO BE KIDDING me,” I grumble.
Dylan and I are standing outside Winter Woodland’s empty tree lot, a giant “Sold Out” sign hanging from the chain-link fence.
“I don’t get it. How could they sell out if they just got another delivery in? Presley said they always have plenty of trees to choose from.”
“I don’t know.” Dylan shrugs. “They must not have had a good harvest this year.”
“Should we drive to the next town over to see if they have any?”
“The closest city with a tree lot is sixty miles away. Besides, they get their trees from the same farm, so I guarantee they’re sold out. There is another alternative,” Dylan suggests. “Although I have to warn you, it’ll require some serious manual labor and isn’t for the faint of heart.”
“What is it?” I ask, knowing how devastated Presley is going to be about not having a tree to decorate and wanting to make her smile.
“We can cut one down ourselves,” Dylan says enthusiastically. “I know the perfect place we can find one. Harrison’s dealing with business this afternoon, but Cash should be free. We’ll stop by his place and pick him up. He’s got an axe in his garage we can use.”
My gut tells me this is a bad idea, but he wouldn’t suggest it if it wasn’t a solid plan.Right?
“Okay, sure. Let’s do it.”
I shove aside the nagging thought that I’m going to regret my decision.
“I’m not sure about this,” I say skeptically. “We passed three No Trespassing signs on the way here.”
“We’re fine,” Cash waves off my concerns.
We drove to the outskirts of town and down several miles of dirt road before finally pulling over. We walked around a bend in the road, where Dylan proceeded to inspect several trees.
The temperature has dipped as the sun’s dropped below the horizon, and I rub my hands together to keep them warm. I should have listened to Presley and worn a warmer coat, but I didn’t expect to be trekking around in the middle of nowhere.
“This is the one.” Dylan waves to a medium-sized balsam fir. “It’ll fit perfectly in Mom and Dad’s living room. Don’t you think, Cash?”
“Oh yeah, it’s great,” Cash replies enthusiastically.
“Don’t we need a permit to cut it down?” I ask.
“Nah. We’re friends with the owner. They won’t mind,” Cash replies.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, don’t be such a worry wart.”
“You do know that this is one of Presley’s favorite holiday traditions… You don’t want to let her down, do you?” Dylan prods.
“No, of course not.”
