“We’ve already chopped it down. There’s no going back now,” I say with a laugh.
“No, no. It’s not that. I just remembered that your mother…” Her voice trails off.
“What?”
“Your mother and Arthur used to date back in the day. They went to the senior prom together.” I’m not all that shocked by this news, but it does unearth a layer of Mom I didn’t know existed.
Obviously, she dated men before Dad, but Arthur is rugged, open, and inviting. He’s like the antithesis of Dad. Where Dad is facts and numbers, dress slacks and designer cologne, Arthur smells woodsy and dresses like he shops exclusively at L.L.Bean.
“There was a while there I thought she might change her mind about the big-city school for college and stick to Havensmith just to stay with him, but you know your mother. She’s got dreams bigger than her ego.” She covers her mouth like she burped. “Oops, I didn’t mean that to sound the way it did. I love your mother. Her strong sense of self is what got her to where she is. I’m proud of what she’s accomplished.”
It’s clear that even in her seventies, Grandma is still figuring out her own family dynamics. It makes me think that’s the kind of work that never stops. Sometimes I wish relationships could just be simple. Simple as in Mom doesn’t subject me to weird punishments, Dad answers my phone calls, Bentley sees our friendship as the two-way street it should be, and Hector wants to sleep with me.
Maybe that last one is a bit heady, but can I be blamed?
When we return inside the barn, I put together why Arthur’s smile looked so familiar. Noelle stands behind the register talking with Gramps while counting his change. What is with the people in this town taking on twenty-seven jobs?
“Matthew! Hey!” Noelle waves, excited to see me in a setting where she isn’t wearing a stained apron that smells like burnt,more-than-decentcoffee, but there’s also an undercurrent of urgency.
“Fancy meeting you here. Do you ever sleep? Barista, cashier, Christmas earring craftswoman…”
“Oh, no. The earrings are all my mom. She sends them to me from Chicago. She’s a jewelry maker.” She shoves back her hair to showcase the glorious silver angels, tiny horn-playing heralds. “I didn’t get that gene. I’m not that crafty. You saw my foam-art disaster.”
“There was definitely room for improvement, but you seem like the kind of person who doesn’t give up easily.”
Noelle nods, sneaks out from behind the counter, and sidles up beside me, leaning in conspiratorially. “Do you see the beautiful girl with the space buns and the brown toggle coat, talking to her sister in the corner?” There are two girls a few years older than me by the Dickens display. The taller of the two sports ratty Ugg boots and a striped turtleneck that peeks out over the lapel of her coat. “That’s Siena. The girl I was telling you about in the shop.” I remember. I can’t believe how quickly I’ve become entrenched in small-town gossip. And to think I actually care. Something must be seriously wrong with me.
“She’s cute,” I say, and then remember what Noelle told me about her and her broken heart. “I mean, if you’re into that tried-hard-to-look-like-I-didn’t-try-at-all thing.”
“I am,” Noelle says, deep-seated longing in her voice. “I so, so am. Anyway, I just sold her a tree and invited her to the Lights of Wonder Spectacular at the park this weekend and she agreed.” Her eyes are dark twin disks of stricken panic.
“That sounds like a date. Isn’t that a good thing?”
“No. No, Matthew. It’s not a good thing. I made it sound like itwasn’ta date. I told her agroup of uswere going. I mentioned it would be chill and casual and low pressure. When it’s entirely not chill or casual and nowI’munder a lot of pressure,” she says, gripping my arm.
“So you lied to her?” Wow, I sound about as self-righteous as Hector did when he found out I lied to Dean Graft.
“No, I did not lie. I bent the truth,” she says. “Which is where you come in. I need you to straighten out the truth for me.”
“Nobody has ever come to me forstraightanything.”
She bites back her smile, swallows her laugh. “This is not the time for jokes, Matthew. I need you to get a ticket and come with.” Her eyes flit over and land on Hector across the way. Arthur tells the boys to bring the tree out to the truck. Hector grabs the bungee cords Natalia left in the glove compartment for him and heads out. “And bring Hector too, if he’s up for it.”
“I’m not sure about that.” Inviting Hector on a non-gala-related outing might also sound like a date, and it can’t be a date. The only date I’m interested in is the expiration date on this repugnant punishment. This is an alternate timeline, a blip in my real life. A romantic date would be serious business for something I’m taking entirely unseriously.
“You owe me. Besides, what else could you possibly be doing in Wind River on a Sunday night?” She’s got a point, and she’s pinning me with her questioning stare.
“Fine, fine. I give in.” The train whistle blares and the Christmas playlist starts back in on its loop. I nod and get an idea. “On one condition: Donate a few trees to the charity gala? Or just one big one? With that high vaulted ceiling in the Great Hall, we’re going to need some kind of immaculate showpiece.”
Her face dims, but then grows ten times more cheerful. “You drive a hard bargain, but we do have a particularly tall babe out back that was rejected by the mayor for the municipal center tree. Nobody’s bought it since nobody has a home big enough to fit it. Let me talk to my dad and see what I can do.”
“You’re a saint.”
“My parents didn’t name me Noelle for nothing.” She makes a halo with her hands over her head. “But even if Hector says no, you’re in. Got it? It’ll be too painfully awkward if she shows up and it’s just me.”
I laugh. “Okay. Got it.”
Weekend plans? Friend groups? It’s like the old Matthew is recalibrating for his new surroundings. It’s an adjustment, but I suppose not an altogether unpleasant one.
