“Nooo!” Peter whines from across the parking lot.
“I’ll play again. I just need to catch my breath first.”
I walk to the table where my sisters and parents sit, drinking hot cocoa from the ranch gift shop.
“I told Bob that leaning the trees up against the barn will show them off more.” My dad’s opinions on how Bob Irvine should run his ranch go well beyond his place as a friend. He gestures to the row of fifteen pine trees that the ranch employees spent the last hour dragging over to the barn and lining up. “He’ll see. This is how you sell Christmas trees.”
My mom lifts her brows, hiking them way up on her forehead—so high that they disappear under her silvery-blonde bangs. “Marty, Bob Irvine does not care about what you think.”
“Well, he should. I’ve lived in Telluride for twenty-seven years.” I smile at my dad, knowing how much his pride in Telluride means to him. He nods back at me in his cheery way, and I’m reminded once again how he’d make the perfect Santa Claus, minus the white hair and beard. He has the round belly and the twinkle in his eye, but I guess the similarities stop there.
“Bob Irvine has lived in Telluride his entire life,” my sister Anna says as she glances at her boys. “Peter! Jack! Stop running around. You’re going to break something.” Her eyes dart to her husband, Jeff. He’s sitting at the brother-in-law's table a few feet away, holding their baby, Lucy. “Can you gain control of the boys?”
“They’re playing tag.” Jeff shrugs, but after a pointed look from Anna, he changes his tune. “Boys, you heard your mother. Stop running around.”
The kids ignore him, and Jeff goes back to his riveting conversation with Tommy and Brian.
“I dated Bob Irvine!” We all glance at my great-aunt, Carma. I thought she was asleep this whole time. It’s hard to tell with the giant black sunglasses covering most of her face. “Good kisser.” She says the entire thing without moving her body.
“It wasn’t Bob.” My mom leans into her. “It was his dad, Kenneth Irvine.”
Aunt Carma whips her head to her. “Are you telling me I don’t know who I kissed?”
My mom shakes her head like it’s useless to try and talk some sense into her. Now that my grandma died, we’re all my Aunt Carma has left. She moved in with my parents earlier this year, and now we’ve adopted her into our family full time.
“Dad, Justin was wondering if Bob Irvine could sell some of his All-Weather Blankets in his gift shop. Do you think I should ask him?”
“Ask your mother.” My dad looks directly at my mom before flipping his newspaper in front of his face. “She knows when it’s okay to have an opinion on Bob Irvine’s ranch.”
“Oh, Marty!” Her eyes roll. “I did not say that.”
“Where is Justin, anyway?” Hailey stirs her hot cocoa with a wooden stick. She’s my only brunette sister. Actually, her hair matches the color of her hot chocolate, which is an odd realization that keeps me from immediately answering her question, but it’s okay because my mom answers for me.
“Working.”
I glance at my mom and then at Hailey. “He’s prepping for Black Friday next week.”
“But did you tell him how important picking out a Christmas tree with your family is?” Hailey asks.
“He knows,” my mother snips again.
“I told him it was important,” I say, ignoring my mom’s dig. “And it made him feel even worse about missing the tree cutting today.”
“He should feel bad!” My mother lifts her chin. If you cross one of her five daughters, it’s hard to get her love back, and in her mind, Justin has crossed me time and time again by not coming to my family parties and dinners over the last nine months.
“He does feel bad.” I look directly at her. “Nobody likes working on Saturdays.”
“I don’t think he loves you.” Anna flips her long blonde hair behind her shoulder as she leans back into her chair. She’s the oldest in the family and always the boldest with her claims.
“I don’t either,” my mom says under her breath but purposely still loud enough for me to hear.
“You guys, he’sworking, not cheating on me with a stripper.”
“Who’s a stripper?” Aunt Carma perks up.
“No one’s a stripper.” My mom waves her off. “Justin is cheatingwitha stripper.”
I throw my arms up. “He’s not cheating with a stripper!”
