Christmas at the Tree Farm Read online

  He steps forward, joining us at the same time Frankie’s husband, Ed, walks in the backdoor, stomping his boots on the rug. I find myself wishing I’d had the opportunity to put on a little make-up this morning, or curl my hair. My skin has the after effects of hotel bar soap, and I know the only glow is the red hue from having grumpy suit here. I was left to the mercy of the hair dryer on the wall, and day-old clothes. Thankfully I chose to wear jeans and a sweater on the flight, something that travels well. I hung them up and did my best to keep out the wrinkles, but I’m not feeling at the top of my game.

  Frankie ignores her son’s question and summons her husband into the foyer.

  “I thought I saw a taxi pull away not too long ago,” Ed says after shaking my hand.

  “Where would you like to sit down to talk?” Frankie asks.

  I open my mouth to answer her, but her son beats me to it.

  “What business meeting? What’s going on here?” He raises his voice to get his parents’ attention, but it doesn’t faze them the way it affects me. Awkward situations make me sweat. It doesn’t take long before I feel the small trickles in the center of my back. The little boy’s face mirrors mine seconds before he turns and takes off into the house.

  “We hired Naomi to help us market the Tree Farm. We need to make more money this year, and she’s here to give us her ideas,” Ed says.

  “Why would you do that?” he asks, his hands open and flailing in front of him. “I can help you with that for free.”

  “Son, we had no idea you were planning on coming home. I mean, it’s been five years,” Ed says.

  Five years?

  “I’m here, now.” He waves at me rudely, ushering me toward the door. “We don’t need your help. You’re dismissed.”

  Chapter 3

  “Dismissed?” The word sits heavy on my tongue while he leads me to the door. I would have preferred it if he would have slapped me across the face rather than dismiss me. Seriously, how condescending can this guy be? I glance frantically at Ed and Frankie, trying to get a sense of whether or not they really want me to leave, while instinctively moving backward toward the door.

  “Stop it right now,” Frankie says, stepping forward. “What has gotten into you? I didn’t raise my child to treat a guest in our home in such a manner.”

  My face glows a bright red at the same time my heart hammers nervously in my chest. My mind goes to Warren, and the safety inside of his cab. I wish I would have told him to stay.

  “Hiring some random woman to overhaul the family business is what’s gotten into me. Why wouldn’t you mention it to me?”

  “Let’s go for a walk, son.” Ed grabs his son by the shoulder and leads him outside. I know I was invited here, but it still feels like I just walked into something that I wasn’t supposed to see. As soon as the door closes, Frankie motions toward the kitchen.

  “How about a cup of tea?” I follow her into the kitchen and sit down at the table. Frankie grabs the tea kettle from the stove and fills it with water. “You’ll have to forgive my son. He’s working through his own issues right now so his outbursts aren’t terribly focused or restrained.”

  I have no idea what she means, but it’s also none of my business. In fact, I’d love nothing more than to get started on our plan of attack for the farm and then get back to my motel before Mr. Grumpy suit makes another appearance.

  “What’s your son’s name?” Subconsciously, I’d like to be able to stop calling him names that make him sound like a Disney character.

  “Clay.” She sits down at the table with me while we wait for the kettle to boil. “He’s been in New York since he graduated from college. And five years since he came home for a visit.”

  “I’m sorry.” I don’t know Frankie, but I do know that her son’s issues weigh heavily on her mind if she’s sharing them with a complete stranger she’s only known for five minutes. I set my purse on the floor next to my chair and pull out my little notepad and pen along with my laptop. “Something brought him home, right? Maybe he’s ready to make up for lost time.”

  She smiles sweetly at me, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. The kettle whistles on the stove, and I’m relieved. It’s not that I don’t want to help Frankie with her issues with her son, it’s just that I have so many things I’m still dealing with in my own personal life. I’d rather keep things strictly professional.

  “Maybe you’re right.” She sets a steaming mug of tea down in front of me, the delicious aroma of peppermint wafting to my nose.

  “This tea smells amazing.” I lift it to my nose and inhale deeply. “Add a candy cane and it would be the perfect drink for the holidays.”

  “My mother always made peppermint tea for me. I guess the tradition stuck over the years.”

  “I’m going to add peppermint tea to my growing list of ideas. If you don’t mind, I’d love to get a tour of the farm first. From there, I have a pile of suggestions for you and Ed to think about.”

  “Kendra said you were good. I was happy to have a referral so we knew we were getting someone trustworthy. This farm has been in our family for years. Clay grew up here. Ed and I can’t imagine having to sell. We’d be heartbroken.”

  “You won’t have to sell. Promise. We just have to make sure people know about your little piece of heaven out here. They’ll come for the experience we can give them.”

  She relaxes into her chair while taking another sip. At the same time, the boy from earlier walks into the kitchen. Fluffy is tucked tightly under his arm while his fingers rub his worn ear.

  “There’s my grandson.” Frankie pulls him on her lap, and wraps her arms around him.

  “Who do we have here?” I ask. “I’ve already met Fluffy, but I don’t think I ever got your name.”

  Frankie looks down at the little boy in her arms, waiting for him to answer. “What’s your name?” she asks, encouraging him.

  “Levi.” His ‘L’ sounds more like a ‘Y’, making him that much more adorable.

  “How old are you, Levi?”

  “I’m four.” He stares at his hand while he holds up his fingers, trying to put one down so he can show me the correct number.

  Then the details from the rest of the morning sink in. “Is this the first time you’ve been to your Grandma and Grandpa’s farm, Levi?”

  “Yeah.” He takes a big bite from the sugar cookie Frankie hands him from the center of the table.

  “We speak every week on the computer, though,” Frankie clarifies.

  “I use my daddy’s phone,” Levi says.

  “That’s right,” Frankie agrees.

  I can’t help but wonder if this is the first time they’ve physically met in person. If so, how sad for Frankie and Ed.

  “Levi, let’s go show Naomi around the farm.”

  An appealing scent of pine mixed with fresh snow on a cold November day hangs in the air. Piles of snow and bitter cold don’t faze me after living in Minnesota for the last many years. But, from a business standpoint, I don’t want the weather to be too severe this year. It’ll keep people away.

  “This is where people bring their tickets to pay for the trees.” We step inside a decent sized wooden cabin, empty aside from the single counter holding a cash register.

  “Tell me more about what someone would do if they came here to get a tree. I couldn’t find you on-line so I don’t have many details.”

  “Oh, yes, we don’t have anything on-line. We’ve survived by word of mouth and loyalty from the same customers over the years.”

  “They’ll be surprised when they come back this year and you have even more to offer.” Levi runs about the wide-open space around us before stopping at the window and peeking outside.

  “I see Grandpa and Dad.” He flings the door open and runs.

  “He sure has a wealth of energy.” I smile to myself, realizing it’s one of the generic things people always say about kids when they can’t think of anything else. Talking about a child’s energy level is always on
the table.

  “That’s an understatement,” Frankie says. “And yes, we do have a wagon. Ed drives the tractor to the furthest fields and then swings back around to pick people up. Some like to walk. It all depends on the level of adventure someone is looking for.”

  I nod as I take in the information. In the back of my mind, I wonder if Ed and Clay are going to join us or if he’ll keep his rude son away from me for the rest of my visit. Knowing he’s lurking close outside is enough to ratchet up my nerves.

  “This space is perfect.” My hands are out in front of me as I turn in a slow circle. The men’s voices can be heard close by so I jump into my first round of ideas. “I’d like to add another counter over here. This is where we’ll offer refreshments. Complimentary apple cider and popcorn, and then hot chocolate, peppermint tea, anything else to purchase. People can’t resist the smell of freshly popped popcorn and it will draw them to the counter.”

  Frankie smiles and nods so I keep plowing along.

  “I’d also like to add some shelves along the walls and a table or two in the center of the space. There are a few successful local shops nearby that I’d like to approach about selling some of their products here. It’s a win-win for both you and them. Add Christmas tree ornaments, women’s jewelry, seasonal crafts. People will want to buy more when they’re already here having a good time. Same with the local chocolate shop. There are tons of holiday goodies you could be selling around the cash register. Chocolates, toffee bark, specialty popcorns, chocolate dipped marshmallows. The list goes on.”

  Frankie’s eyes are wide and full of wonder as she processes all of my ideas.

  “Of course, you don’t have to give me answers today. Talk to Ed, and let me know what you think. We need the website for your business, though. I’ll get started on that tonight.”

  As soon as the men join us in the cabin, my eyes glance to Clay’s face before I can stop myself. Mentally I need to be prepared for what kind of mood I’m going to get.

  “Oh, Ed. She has the most wonderful ideas.” I exhale the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

  “Have you signed a contract yet?” Clay asks. He’s dialed his anger back a few notches. I cross my arms over my chest and keep my eyes on Frankie and Ed.

  “Not yet,” Frankie says, “but we will. I’d like to get started right away.”

  “Wonderful. Tomorrow I’ll take a cab downtown and meet with some of the retailers I mentioned. Unless you’d like to do that with me?”

  “I’ll drive you,” Clay says. My stomach drops. I know he isn’t offering to be nice. He wants to keep an eye on me, and give me his opinion about the changes. I glance eagerly to Frankie and Ed, hoping they’ll interject and take his place.

  “That’s a good idea, son,” Ed says, as if he’s only trying to be helpful.

  Ugh. Instant headache.

  “I want to hear all about your business plan for the farm.” Clay stares at me with his sharp gaze before turning and walking back to the house.

  Chapter 4

  The sharp knocking on my motel door the following morning causes me to jump a foot in the air. My hands are still covering my heart trying to still its frantic beating as I pull the door open. Clay stands in front of me, five minutes earlier than our agreed upon time.

  “Still no suitcase, I see.” His fingers comb through his hair impatiently before resting on his hips. In place of his usual fancy suit is a navy blue sweater and jeans. He almost looks like he belongs in this small town. Almost.

  “No suitcase. At least I washed them last night.” I plaster on my best smile, motioning over my clothes like Vanna White revealing the next letter in the puzzle. “Are you always this rude?”

  I catch the change in his expression before he fortifies his walls again. Yesterday, I was a pushover. His behavior caught me off-guard, and meeting with my clients for the first time, I didn’t want to say anything. Today isn’t going to be the same. He’s not going to intimidate me with his attitude when I’m being paid to be here and do my job.

  “Pointing out that your suitcase hasn’t arrived yet, is rude?” he asks.

  “Yes, it is. When it’s clear your point is that I’m wearing the same clothes again.”

  Outside, he shocks me by stopping in front of an old beat-up pick-up truck. In my head he would’ve pulled up in a sleek, black BMW. But of course, like me, he flew into town and has no car.

  “Is this your dad’s?” He surprises me again by opening the passenger side door for me.

  “Yes,” he says, once he’s in his seat and buckled.

  The engine roars to life after a few tries, and the next thing I know, we’re following the same highway as yesterday back to Willowdale.

  “What?” he asks. I realize I’ve been stealing glances at him for a while. I can’t help it. He looks so different today—much more like the country boy he must have been growing up. It looks good on him.

  “Nothing.” My reply is innocent. “I’m just surprised.”

  “Surprised about what?” From his clipped responses, it’s clear he isn’t interested in making conversation. My nerves won’t let me sit quietly, though. The silence is making me uncomfortable.

  “You. With the jeans, driving the old pick-up truck. When you stole my cab at the airport, I never would have pictured you like this.”

  “Stole your cab?” The way he says it makes it sound like I’m losing my mind.

  “Yes, you stole my cab. I was waiting in line—”

  “What line?” he interrupts. “There was no line. The taxi pulled up just as Levi and I made it outside.”

  “Maybe no one else was in the line, but I was next. Once again proving my point that you’re rude.”

  “This was a bad idea,” he says.

  “Well, it was your idea. I don’t need a babysitter to do my work, and do it well, I might add.”

  With his lips set in a firm line, he glares out the window, focused on driving. It might not be professional to speak to him in this way, but he’s not the one paying me. Besides, I’ve got hardness around my heart, too. I first noticed it when we found out my dad was sick and it has only grown since he died. I assume it happens to everyone, as a way to protect ourselves from feeling too much pain all at once. A defense mechanism of sorts.

  The rest of the drive is spent in silence. Clay’s bad mood has spread to me as I look out the window and pretend I’m with someone else. Someone a little softer than Clay who could make me laugh instead of want to cry. My mind drifts to adorable Levi and I still can’t comprehend how this man is a father. He must have warmth inside of him—I hope, for the sake of that little boy.

  “Where do you want to go first?” he asks.

  “I can start anywhere downtown. I have a lot of stops to make.”

  We park in front of the Chocolate Shop, so I decide to make it my first stop.

  “This is a lost cause,” Clay says. “The old woman who owns the shop isn’t going to agree to anything.”

  “It’s been a long time since you’ve been home. Maybe things have changed.” With a shrug, I climb out of the truck without bothering to wait for Clay. The chime of the bell signals our arrival as I step into the small shop. It smells the same as all candy shops—like sugar and cocoa. I’m so preoccupied looking around, I don’t notice the tiny gray-haired woman standing behind the counter until she speaks.

  “Early start on Christmas shopping? Or do you need your chocolate fix?”

  “I guess it is early in the day for sweets.” I smile and step up to the display case to examine all of her delicious treats.

  “She wants to know if you’ll sell chocolates at my family’s tree farm,” Clay says unexpectedly.

  I whip around to stare at him, finally convinced that his entire purpose of coming with me today was sabotage.

  “I sell the chocolates here. You’re welcome to buy today if you’d like.” She’s matter of fact as if my answer won’t make a difference to her either way.

  “
I have to try your truffles.” I point into the display case at the small, delicately designed chocolates. “When I was a little girl, my mom taught me how to make all sorts of chocolates for Christmas. The truffles were always my favorite. And the peanut butter cups. It’s hard to choose just one favorite, isn’t it?”

  “I sample a chocolate out of every batch I make. Quality control…have to make sure they taste just right.” She smiles at me for the first time, and I can practically feel Clay brooding in the background. But at least he’s quiet, and doesn’t try to help me out anymore. “It’s not a good habit for my waistline.” She pats her stomach and smiles.

  “How did you get your start making chocolate?” I ask.

  “I followed an old recipe, and taught myself. My mother was always in the kitchen but she liked to bake cookies, and breads. I love those too, but it was always the chocolates that felt like a real challenge.”

  “Do you have any special items you make specifically for Christmas? It doesn’t have to be chocolate; it can be anything gooey and delicious.”

  “Now that you mention it, I have a marshmallow popcorn treat. I add red and green sprinkles and tie a serving in cellophane, with a pretty ribbon around the top.”

  “Sounds lovely.” I’m taking everything in while chancing a glance back at Clay. He’s been quiet for so long that I start to worry he’s going to ruin the progress I’ve made. I wrap up my conversation with Gloria and pay for my truffles.

  “That was pointless,” Clay says as soon as we get outside.

  “I beg to differ.” I’ve already pulled out one of the truffles, and not even Clay’s bad attitude is going to ruin this treat for me. Glancing into store windows as we walk past, I wait for another store to catch my eye. “The chocolates and candy are priority number one. Treats are big around Christmas. If I need to come back every day this week and try Gloria’s chocolates, I’ll do it until she trusts me enough to want to do business with me.” I don’t know why I feel the need to explain myself to him, but I do. I want to prove to him that I’m smart and worth the contract I signed with his parents. I want to prove him wrong. “What is it that you do in New York, anyway?”