ONE
REED
I'd been talking to Douglas for about twenty minutes when I chuckled and slapped my brow. I was probably losing my mind but hey, if this was me cracking up, it wasn’t a bad place to be.
“The thing is,” I adjusted the string of Christmas lights that had tangled around Doug's lower branches overnight. How the heck did that happen? Perhaps Santa’s elves were playing tricks late at night when I was asleep.
“Anyway, I know you want to make some family happy for Christmas. But Mrs. Ledger already picked out that Blue Spruce over in Section C, and Doug, don’t be disappointed. You’ll find someone to love you.”
Doug rustled his needles which I interpretedas an agreement. The morning breeze helped, but I was convinced he had opinions about these things. Maybe it was his branches leaning toward me or how his needles were more radiant after our morning chats. Aunt Mollie used to insist the trees responded to kindness, and after spending three years with them, I agreed.
I admired my handiwork with the lights. Every year, I decorated as many of the trees as I could so the farm, Right as Rain(deer), would appear more festive. Aunt Mollie had started the tradition and though she’d been gone for three years, I was continuing it. The Christmas tree lot was more alive with lights scattered throughout the rows of evergreens, and I wanted first-time visitors surrounded bya winter wonderland.
Right as Rain(deer) was kinda an odd name for a Christmas tree farm—Aunt Mollie had people tell her over the years she should change it— but my aunt maintained the soil on this land was special. She loved to tell the story of seeing reindeer wandering through the lot on her first Christmas Eve here. I was pretty sure that was a tall tale but I had loved hearing it every December and had adored her quirky personality.
The winter air carried the sharp scent of pine and the earthier smell of decomposing leaves from the oak trees that bordered the property. I moved closer tocheck Doug's watering system, making sure he was getting enough moisture to keep his needles fresh and vibrant.
“You're going to make someone's Christmas magical.”
The phone buzzed in my pocket. Probably another bill I couldn't pay. Perhaps it was my friend, Gemma, telling me how I should sell the place and get a real job. Her latest voicemail had included a suggestion that I could work at her husband's accounting firm. Ugh!
Being cooped up in a tiny cubicle instead of being outdoors with the trees would be nightmarish. I refused to throw away the time and effort it’s taken to keep this tree farm running.
I ignored the phone and moved onto the paths between the Fraser Firs. Each section of the farm had its own personality. The Noble Firs were tall and dignified. The Frasers clustered together as if they were gossiping while the Douglas Firs sprawled out, holding their heads high because they were haughty and proud of themselves.
Right as Rain(deer) had been in my family for more than thirty years. Aunt Mollie had bought the land on a whim after inheriting money from a relative. She planted her first seedlings with no idea what she was doing and turned the place into a beloved Christmastree farm. She talked to the trees as if they were her children, commiserating with them on bad days and celebrating their growth spurts.
Three years after inheriting this unprofitable farm, I understood. The trees did listen and they responded to kindness. But being nice to my trees didn't pay the mortgage.
The numbers were getting worse every month. The seasonal income from Christmas tree sales barely covered the property taxes, let alone the equipment and maintenance along with the endless repairs to the old farmhouse. I'd been supplementing my income with jobs in town, ones I could do outside because I’d stifle in a cubicle, similar to a tree left without water. But the money wasn't enough and the bank had been sending threatening letters.
Aunt Mollie had brought in extra income from renting out the cabins over the hill. But I’d stopped that practice because the buildings needed extensive repairs.
I made my way over to the Noble Fir section, where Noelle was showing off her perfect symmetry.
“Morning, Noelle. You're looking majestic today.”
Her branches swayed gently in response. She was going to be somebody's centerpiece this year if I could keep the farm running long enough to find the rightfamily.
The rattle of loose stones on the driveway interrupted my morning routine. A car door slammed followed by footsteps. My stomach dropped.Please don't be the bank. Please don't be someone from the county.
I wove between the Fraser Firs and tried not to trip over the extension cord powering the office's ancient heater. The little wooden building that served as an office looked kinda bleak in the morning light with its peeling paint and dirty windows. But Aunt Mollie's hand-painted sign above the door, “Welcome to Right as Rain(deer)” gave me the courage to meet my guest.
The tall man with dark hair standing beside a black sedan had a jawline that needed to be stroked and peppered with kisses, and I stared at him for longer than I should have. I was intimidated by the confidence that radiated from him, which was helped by his caramel-colored coat that I wanted to run my hands over. I hunched my shoulders, protecting myself from whatever he was going to say.
He was studying the farm and he did a 360, taking in the decorated trees, the old office building with holly growing near the door, and my home enclosed with a fence and an old gate that hung on one hinge.
I tensed, thinking he disapproved but I’d like to see him try to run this place and make a huge profit, especially when most of my trees wereballed and burlapped (B&B) so families could enjoy them inside for Christmas and plant them in the garden afterward. They were more expensive than cut trees but they were environmentally friendly. But I did have smaller ones in pots for apartments that were cheaper.
When the guy turned his gaze on me, it was as though I’d been zapped with a stun gun. Yikes. If his glance did that, I wondered what his… Whoa. Nope I wasn’t going there.
“Can I help you?”I jogged the last few steps, trying not to appear as frazzled as I felt while pine needles clung to my flannel shirt. “If you're looking for a tree, you're welcome to browse.”
“Reed Keller?” That voice suggested he knew who I was and I braced myself for whatever bad news he was here to deliver.
“That's me.” I wiped my hands on my jeans, aware of the contrast between us. He was wearing a smart coat and I’d been wrestling with Christmas trees. At least I smelled good from pine sap.
“Are you from the county? Because I filed all the paperwork, and if there's an issue with the lighting display?—”
