No, I did not. Because I was not a mature adult.
Instead, I decided to sleep at the Christmas tree lot like a hobbit.
“Not doing that again,”I groaned the next morning. The sun was bright. There was fresh snow on the ground, though it hadn’t covered me because I was camped under the large Christmas tree Hensley had wanted to buy.
Hip stiff, I slowly made my way out of the Christmas tree lot.
“Are you guys open?” a man called. “I need a tree.”
“Sorry, can’t help you,” I said, heading back to my shop.
“Whaddaya mean?” the guy complained. “It’s Christmas!”
“It’s seven in the morning,” I hollered back. “You don’t need a tree right now.”
I stomped through the fresh snow back to my shop. I was going to chop off some of this tree sap, or barring that, just cover the sap in newspaper and go on about my life.
“You just have to make it to Christmas,” I reminded myself. “It will all be over one way or another.”
I hoped some cookies were left at the shop. I was starving. And I really could not afford to keep eating out.
But when I arrived at the shop, Matt was already there, shaking hands with a man wearing a City of Harrogate jacket.
“Thank you so much for coming out so quickly,” Matt was saying. “I will, of course, put in a good word at my brother’s company for your daughter.”
“Much appreciated.”
“Merry Christmas,” Matt called as the inspector jumped back in his truck.
“Did you get me shut down?” I asked in horror.
“Even better,” Matt said and opened the door to usher me inside the shop.
Kringle was there, wagging his tail.
I gazed around. All my ornaments were still there, along with my Christmas tree and my decorations. But in the back of the shop behind the sales counter, instead of the small kitchenette, there was a full-on commercial kitchen with a bank of ovens, prep counter space, and two industrial-sized mixers.
“Not only did I fix your lock,” he said, jiggling the door handle, “but I also pivoted your business for you,” Matt said. “You make way more money selling cookies than you ever did selling ornaments. You’re welcome.”
“You redid my shop,” I said slowly, anger rising.
“I made it better,” he argued.
“You can’t just come in and fuck with someone’s space.”
“I helped you,” he insisted.
I was covered in tree sap cat hair, and my hip was still stiff. I was in no mood to give him any grace.
“I didn’t ask you to,” I said through gritted teeth.
“It’s all good,” Matt said. “I convinced the inspector that all we were doing was expanding your kitchenette. Since we weren’t frying or serving hot food, he was fine with us adding a bigger fridge and more ovens. The floor walls and concrete in this area were already wipeable per health code, so you were good to go.”
“I don’t want any of this!” I shrieked.
But those are very nice ovens.
“Because I’m right,” Matt insisted.
