But when Natalie and I pull into the small lot beside the community center, her breath fogging the window in excitement, it hits me all over again thatshe’s not from here. She’s seeing Wilder Mountain as something magical.
I’d forgotten it could look that way.
“Is this where we get the tree?” she asks, practically vibrating.
“No,” I say. “This is where we check the plow schedules, see if the highway crews opened the back road, and make sure the general store has power.”
She deflates just a little. “So… bureaucracy before pinecones?”
“Briefly.”
She sighs dramatically. “Fine. Adulting first. Festivity later.”
I almost smile. Almost.
We climb out of the jeep. The sky is a flat winter blue, the sun bright enough to make the snow sparkle. Natalie tightens herscarf around her face as we walk inside. The community center is warm, lit by a backup generator humming in the back hallway.
Martha, who runs the front desk, looks up as soon as we enter.
“Well I’ll be,” she says. “If it isn’t our favorite hermit.”
I grit my teeth. “Morning, Martha.”
Her eyes slide to Natalie. “This must be the decorator your mama’s been bragging about.”
“Oh,” Natalie says, cheeks warming. “I’m not exactly a decorator. I’m more of a?—”
“Miracle worker,” Martha says with appraising eye. “At least that’s what I hear.”
Natalie laughs, flustered but pleased. “That’s a stretch.”
I shift my weight. “We just need the plow report. And to know if the general store’s open.”
“Store opened twenty minutes ago.” Martha taps her keyboard. “Back road is still closed, but Main is drivable. Shouldn’t give a strapping man like you any trouble.”
“Did you hear that?” Natalie nudges me softly with her elbow. “Main shouldn’t give a strapping man like you any trouble. Sounds like the Christmas tree hunt can begin.”
Martha’s ears perk up. “You two looking for a Christmas tree?”
“No,” I say.
“Yes,” Natalie says at the same time.
Martha eyes us like we’re the entertainment she didn’t know she needed this morning. “Well now I’m invested.”
“We’re getting a tree,” Natalie confirms with absolute authority.
Martha beams. “Go see the Donnellys. They’ve got a temporary stand in the church parking lot until the big lot is cleared. Last I heard, they still had a few good ones.”
“Perfect!” Natalie says.
I grunt something that might be agreement, but Martha has already turned back to me with a suspiciously pleased expression.
“Your mama’s gonna love that,” she says.
I say nothing.
Because she’s right.
