“I’m done with the important stuff.”
“Excellent. Let’s go decorate.”
Eve picks up one box of decorations and tells me which one she wants me to carry. Even after we take our boxes, there’s still a small tower of boxes labeled “Christmas,” which gets my very fervent approval at their enthusiasm for the holiday.
She leads me out the front door and to the front yard of the house. This is the first time I’ve seen the place in daylight, and I can see the rows and rows of currently bare peach trees that were hidden in the darkness last night. I thought the light would make the land less creepy, but there’s hundreds, maybe thousands of long, bony branches like skeleton fingers reaching up and out from the ground, hoping to ensnare...well, probably a young female virgin. Demons and vampires and witches in non-romance books (and the men who write them) are usually super concerned with a woman’s lack of sexual experience.
And we’re as remote as I thought last night, since I still can’t see any evidence of neighbors.
But then I turn around and see the house is decorated like a Christmas wonderland, brightly colored lights strung on the façade, and plastic figurines of standard Christmas fare—Santa, reindeer, penguins, and presents. Even a little plastic palm tree with Christmas decorations on its palm fronds. All the decorations I couldn’t really make out last night.
Less horror movie.
“It’s our tradition to decorate the oldest peach tree in the orchard. The one that great-great grandpoppas Abbot and Jackson planted to start the business.” Eve points to the tree closest to the house in the yard, on its own and not in a neat row. It’s eight feet tall and completely bare of any leaves, just like the others. But the fact that it’s set aside makes it the creepiest of the horror movie trees. Like it’s their king.
“We decorate a tree inside as well, but we always start with this one.” Eve sets down the box of decorations and I follow her lead. Four ladders are already set up around the tree and we get to work hanging lights and ornaments. Hopefully this tree will look less terrifying now. But it could just turn out like a zombie with a red-and-green bow on his head.
“What do you do?” Eve asks casually, throwing me the end of a string of lights.
Ah, here we go. She’s shown admirable restraint, but now she wants to know about the woman her son brought home. I get it, but that doesn’t stop the anxiety rising in my chest. And being on a ladder whilst getting the interrogation doesn’t help anything.
“I work at an auction house. It’s a family business as well, actually. I help put on our exhibition shows and sales. Get pieces, write about and price them, display them, advertise our shows and then host auctions.”
“That’s exciting. And glamorous.”
“It has its moments.” There are days I’m jetting off to London or New Delhi to stay at a mansion and inspect a collection of art, but most times it’s carpal tunnel and eyestrain in front of my computer. “How about you?” Please, let’s not talk about me.
“I do event planning. Weddings, engagement parties, graduations, birthdays, divorces, holidays, whatever anyone wants to celebrate. We have an old barn on the farm we’ve converted where I can do events, but I can also plan for any other venue or home.”
“That must be better drama than a reality TV show.” My tone is complimentary, since watching reality TV is a large part of my free time.
Eve laughs. “Oh, a kindred spirit. And yes.” She peeks around the branches so I can see her gleeful smile. “It’s filled with drama that I enjoy unless and until it prevents me from getting an event ready.”
Now that we’ve moved on from talking about me, I ask her about the city to keep that train heading away from my life. We chat about some of her favorite places when she lived there and what’s changed since her time. Beau’s mom is funny and nice, not at all like the passive-aggressive investigator who takes an immediate dislike to the woman coming to steal her son like I thought she would be.
And not that I’m trying to steal her son, either.
An hour after we started, the sound of a truck pulling up to the front of the house interrupts our conversation. I track its movement until it stops in front of the tree and Beau gets out of it, his long legs having no problem finding the ground.
“Hi. How’s the mulch-mergency?” I yell from my ladder, reaching for an ornament in my bag that’s used to hold picked peaches during the harvest season.
“I don’t think you’re giving mulch the gravity it deserves.”
“I concede that point.”
“Well, it’s getting better. They gave me some and we’re working on finding some more. They gave me a discount for next year to keep our business, but we’ll see if they find the rest of the mulch for us this year. I also went to a few more vendors and was able to get a little more. Amazing what begging in person can do.”
“Get a bag of ornaments and a ladder and make yourself useful,” Eve orders from her spot on the other side of the tree.
Beau obliges and soon he’s next to me, decorating a real tree. To give him credit where it’s due, I wouldn’t get to do this in New York.
We’re half-done when another truck drives up to the house. Beau’s sister and her family get out, waving to us.
“Yay, you’re not done with the decorating.” Annabelle gets her own bag and ladder while Tucker sets the kids up in the corner with some toys and Bubba to babysit.
We’re all working together, and I relax. This family togetherness time isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
Until Annabelle asks, “Are you guys dating?”
