“Because the next time, I’ll cooperate and give it 110 percent. I only gave you 50 percent this time. Now you have something to look forward to.” Gus watched her, his mouth hanging open as she sashayed out of the room.
“Promises, promises,” Gus muttered as he made his way upstairs to his bathroom. She was right, though, it was definitely something to look forward to.
The only lull in business that day happened shortly after lunch when Gus’s crew returned to the fields with the flat-bed U-Haul to replenish the eight-foot trees. The gift shop absorbed the lull with the antique cash register ringing constantly. Children came back for seconds for the gingerbread men and the hot cider. To the children’s delight, Sam’s old-fashioned Victrola, sitting outside on the back porch, played “Jingle Bells.”
Cyrus, decked out in Buster’s old reindeer ears, the bells on his collar tinkling when he walked, allowed himself to be petted and chased by the little ones. When the cars left the compound, trees tied to their roofs, one of the Seniors handed out little cellophane bags to the children. The bags said REINDEER TREATS in bright red letters. The children squealed and giggled as their trip to Moss Farms ended on a happy note.
It was clear to everyone that the Moss Christmas Tree Farm was back in business.
Tillie worked the kitchen, making coffee and sandwiches that she handed out during free moments, which were few and far between.
The cash register continued to ring. Sam said it was the sweetest sound in the world.
Amy looked up from the work table, where she was busy making wreaths and grave blankets. “Gus! How’s it going out there?”
“I don’t have much to judge by, but to my mind it’s the biggest day after Thanksgiving I can remember. I gave up counting a couple of hours ago. I just stopped to get some coffee. Your mother is like a chicken on a hot griddle.”
Amy giggled. “She’s having the time of her life. Trust me.”
“So is my dad. Two people are waiting for their blankets. They asked me how much longer it will be.”
“I know. I can’t make them fast enough. I’m not too proud to tell you I need some help. I ran out of wreaths two hours ago. We need more of an assembly line here. I can’t do the wiring and the bows. My hands are raw from the wire.”
“You need to wear gloves,” Gus said as he took her hands in his. They were black from the resin and bark, and he could see specks of blood on the palms of her hands. How well he remembered the days when he’d done the same thing. His mother had always put something called Bag Balm on his hands and wrapped them in warm flannel at night when he went to bed. Then he would wake and do it all over again. To this day he still had scars on his hands from the baling wire.
“There’s no easy way to do it, Amy. Can you work with gloves?”
“I’m not complaining, Gus. It’s too awkward working with gloves. I have to be able to feel the wire. I just said I could use some help. Someone to make the bows and tie them on will make things go a little faster. I hate the idea that people will go somewhere else for their wreaths and blankets. You know, time is money. Don’t worry about me.”
“I’ll see if I can find you some help. I don’t think any of us were prepared for such a busy day. Your ad campaign is really working. Your mother told me she ran out of patches for the Christmas Stocking. Everyone wants the plasma TV Zagby’s donated. Whoever wins that stocking is going to need a truck to haul it off. That was one of the best ideas I ever heard of.”
Amy glowed with Gus’s praise. “Okay, I have to get back to work. I’m going to need some more greenery in about ten minutes.”
“Okay, see you later.” Amy’s mind raced as she worked the wire through the wreath hoop and then threaded it back through the pine boughs. The Seniors all had arthritis and while they might try to help her, they would do more harm to themselves. Where could she find someone willing to cut their hands to shreds to help the Seniors?
Volunteers.
At four-thirty, just as it was starting to get dark, Amy had a brainstorm. She stopped what she was doing, not caring if two dozen people were waiting for her creations. She stepped out of the barn and made an announcement: “Leave your name in the store, and we’ll deliver your blanket or wreath.” There was a little grumbling, but for the most part, people were understanding. “I’ll try to get them to you by Sunday afternoon. Mr. Moss and the Seniors appreciate your business and your patience.”
Back in the barn, Amy whipped out her cell phone. An hour later she’d called every church in town asking the priests and ministers if they could send their youth groups to help after school next week. She promised to make donations to each church. All promised to get back to her later in the evening.
Amy looked at her work table. She was fresh out of greenery. Time to take a break. She wanted to wash her hands, which would probably be a mistake since the thick resin was coating the cuts. She didn’t care. All she wanted right now was to soak her hands in soothing warm water and sip a hot drink through a straw. She was just closing the door when Gus pulled up in his pickup, the trailer full of greens.
“I’m going to pretend I didn’t see you. I’m going into the house to get some coffee and wash my hands. I think I might have a lead on some volunteers.”
“I’ll join you. I’ll pretend I didn’t get here.” In the time it took his heart to beat twice, Gus scooped her up in his arms and carried her across the compound to the kitchen, where he sat her down on one of the kitchen chairs.
Tillie stopped what she was doing long enough to pour her daughter a cup of coffee.
“Put a slug of something in it, Mom.”
That’s when Tillie noticed her daughter’s ravaged hands. She wanted to cry. She looked up at Gus, who could only shrug.
“I had no idea what a hard business this is,” Tillie said softly. She quickly ran a dishcloth under warm water. She gently wrapped it around her daughter’s hands.
Gus eyed both women. “This is only day one, ladies. We have thirty-three more days to go. It won’t get any easier.”
“I’m no quitter,” Amy said vehemently.
“And neither am I,” Tillie said with spirit.
“So what’s the lead you have?” Gus asked.
“I called all the churches in the area and asked the priests and ministers if they would ask their youth groups to come out and help after school. They all promised to get back to me this evening. I just hope I can stay awake long enough to take the calls. If it works out, we can build up an inventory. If that doesn’t work, I’m all for using that liquid cement to glue the boughs together. I’ll make it work…so will both of you stop looking at me like that?”
“What’s for dinner?” Gus asked as he slipped back into his jacket.
“Stew and fresh bread. Addy made it all this morning. Store-bought pie.”
“Works for me.” Gus grinned as he headed out the door.
“What’s the deal here, Mom?”
“Everyone eats here, we’re taking turns cooking. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner. We close the gates at five-thirty. Everyone goes home to sleep in their own beds. Sam and I pick everyone up in the morning and we do it all over again. Are you coming home with me, Amy?”
“Of course. Why would you think otherwise?”
“Well…you didn’t…”
“Mom, I was so tired yesterday I fell asleep on the couch. No one woke me up. Don’t read into something that isn’t there, okay?”
“Okay. Just thirty-three more days to go. We can do this, can’t we, Amy?”
Amy closed her eyes. “We have to do it. Thanks for the coffee, Mom.”
“Oh, Amy, I almost forgot. A reporter from the newspaper was here earlier to take pictures of the Christmas Stocking. They’re going to run it in tomorrow’s paper on the front page. Above the fold! Isn’t that great?”
“Super, Mom! Just super!” Amy said wearily as she headed back to the barn.
Hours later, the workday finally ended, and Amy
, a can of Bag Balm in hand, followed her mother to the car. She waved to Gus and Sam. “Burn rubber, Mom!”
“Gotcha, kiddo. Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it’s off to home we go, with only thirty-three more days to go! Heigh-ho, heigh-ho. I can’t wait to go home.”
Amy laughed hysterically. Tillie wondered if she should slap her daughter. She decided she was too tired to do anything but drive. Then she, too, started to laugh. “This is where the rubber meets the road, Amy. A month ago if someone had told me this would be happening, I would have laughed in their face.”
“Yeah, me too. You can’t sing worth a damn, Mom.”
“I know. Sad, isn’t it?”
“Boo hoo.” Amy giggled. “I meant it back there when I said I was no quitter.”
“I know, Amy. I’m no quitter either. We’ll do it.” She looked over at her daughter, who was suddenly sound asleep. How pretty she is, Tillie thought. How dedicated. How warm and caring my daughter is. Then she cried for all the lost years.
Chapter Thirteen
Amy’s alarm buzzed at six o’clock. A second later, the local radio station came to life with a rousing rendition of “Jingle Bells.” Then the announcement for Moss Farms invaded her bedroom. She pulled the covers over her head, but she could still hear the cheerful voice announcing the latest gift to go in the Christmas Stocking, a gift certificate to the China Buffet for a free dinner for two every week for a full year.
Amy swung her legs over the side of the bed. She smiled in spite of herself. Her PR campaign had taken off like a rocket. Instead of the television and radio announcers doing a countdown of days left till Christmas, they started the top of each hour by announcing the latest contribution to the Christmas Stocking. Estimates were running high as to the value of the contents. Fifty thousand dollars’ worth of merchandise and gift certificates seemed to be the magic number. Amy thought it was much higher, because shops and business professionals dropped by with gift certificates on a daily basis. Just yesterday a local plastic surgeon stopped on his way to the office to drop off a gift certificate for a free face-lift. She’d giggled over that all morning, as did all of the Senior ladies.
Then there was the mystery gift that the announcers played up every day. A gift valued at ten thousand dollars. The different stations had call-in periods during which people called in trying to guess what the mystery gift was and who had donated it. So far no one had come close to guessing the mystery gift was a seven-day Carnival Cruise for a family of four.
Just three more days, Amy thought as she lathered up under the shower. Three more days and she could sleep until the New Year. Then it was back to her own world in Philadelphia. Gus Moss would be returning to his life in California, and her mother and Sam would probably start “keeping company” once they wound down from this little adventure. And it was an adventure. Tillie was dressed and waiting by the front door with a cup of coffee and a Pop-tart. Amy wolfed it down and could have eaten another one. “Three more days, Mom!”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Amy,” Tillie said in a motherly tone.
Amy looked up at her mother. No one had ever said that to her before. Then again, maybe she never talked to anyone with her mouth full. “Let’s go. Time is money, Mom. Pastor Mulvaney is sending out three college kids from his choir to help me this morning. I’ve got kids coming this afternoon too. We have a great inventory now for all the people who stop by at the last minute.”
They quickly walked to the car and climbed in. Tillie settled herself behind the wheel and backed out of the driveway. “I’m going to miss you when you leave, Amy.”
“I’ll come home more often, Mom. You know what, I think Sam is going to be taking up a lot of your time once Christmas is over.”
“I hope so. I really like him. We’re comfortable together. You know, that old sock-and-shoe routine. He told me yesterday that he’s making plans to take every single person who worked at the farm, their families, and even the schoolkids who volunteered on a cruise at the end of January. Just four days. He said the cruise line gave him a great deal. You and Gus are invited, of course.”
“Hmm,” was all Amy could think to say.
“I know this is none of my business, Amy, but I’m going to ask you anyway. Are you and Gus…are you going to stay in touch?”
That was the question Amy had been asking herself for days. She tried for a blasé attitude. “Don’t know, Mom. California is across the country. I’m thinking, ‘out of sight, out of mind.’”
“Does that bother you?”
Amy was tempted to fib to her mother but couldn’t. “Yes,” she mumbled over the rim of her coffee cup. “Oh, look, it’s starting to snow.”
“Then do something about it,” her mother snapped. Amy looked over at her mother, who looked grim and determined.
“Just like that! Do something! Takes two to tango, Mom.”
Tillie took her eyes off the road for a moment. “Yes, just like that. Haven’t you learned anything in the last two months? It’s all about communication, giving off mixed signals, ignoring the obvious, being afraid to say what’s on your mind and in your heart. Like Sam says, you snooze, you lose. I say, go for the gusto!”
“Is that what Sam says?” Amy drawled. “Gusto, eh?”
“Yes, that’s what Sam says, and that’s what I say. I can’t believe I’m giving you relationship advice.”
“Yeah, me too. You’re pretty hip these days, Mom.”
“I know. I want my cell phone back. I think I earned it.”
“I got you one for Christmas. It’s purple. It takes pictures and everything. You can even text message. Play your cards right and I might throw in an iPod.”
Tillie turned on the right-turn signal and swerved into Moss Farms. She drove slowly over the old road and came to a stop at the top of the rise. “That’s one kick-ass Christmas stocking, daughter! I like sitting here looking at it every morning. Did you ever call those people from Money magazine who called you?”
“Nope. I’m playing hard to get. C’mon, Mom, time to get to work. What’s on the menu today?”
“Addy said she was making waffles for breakfast, corn chowder for lunch, and pepper steak for dinner. With buttered noodles. Does that work for you?”
“It does,” Amy said, hopping out of the car. She loved this time of the day, when she could sit next to Gus eating breakfast. They weren’t too tired to talk about anything and everything, unlike at the close of the workday, when they were red-eye tired with only one thought—sleep.
“Morning, everyone,” Amy said cheerfully.
Gus looked around to see who “everyone” was. She must be referring to Cyrus and him. “Good morning to you, too, Miss Baran.”
“Three more days!” Amy said as she filled her plate with waffles from the warming oven. Gus poured coffee for her, and Cyrus dogged her steps, no doubt hoping for a sliver of bacon. She obliged.
“It will be over before you know it,” Gus said, trying to be as cheerful as Amy sounded. He knew he wasn’t pulling it off. He was simply too damn tired to be cheerful at this hour of the morning.
“Are you and your dad going to put up a Christmas tree here in the house?”
“I don’t think so. He didn’t say anything about it. Are you and your mom putting up a tree?”
Amy eyed the man she secretly thought of as her destiny and laughed, a forced sound. “Not if I can help it. I don’t want to see a pine tree of any kind until next year and maybe not even then. I think I turned into a grinch. It’s snowing out. Looks like it might lead to some of the serious white stuff. You know, an accumulation.” Such a scintillating conversation.
Gus groaned. “Do you know what snow means, Amy?”
“Yeah, I have to shovel Mom’s driveway.”
“No, it means all the procrastinators will be trooping out here to buy a tree in the snow. Snow means Christmas. People get the spirit the minute the snow starts to fall.”
“I can help with that, Gus. We have a good amount
of inventory in the barn. For the most part, I think my end is done. I can’t imagine selling 200-some wreaths and 125 grave blankets over the next few days. Tell me what you want me to do and I’m all yours.”
Gus jerked to attention. “Do you mean that?”
“Uh…well, yes. Just tell me what you want me to do. I can bale the trees. I can saw off the bottom branches and I can drill the holes. I don’t have the upper-body strength to lift the trees.”
“Oh, I thought…what I mean is…”
Tillie’s words rang in Amy’s ears. Then do something about it. Go for the gusto! “You thought I meant I was all yours as in us, as in a team, as in a couple…. I did mean that. I meant the other part too. What are you going to do about it, Gus Moss?” she asked boldly. Surely that counted as going for the gusto.
Gus decided to take the high road. “What do you want me to do about it?”
Amy stood up and stomped her foot. “I want you to tell me whatever the hell you want to tell me. I’m too tired to play games. I like you. I am very attracted to you. You’re a great kisser, and you said yourself you were a stand-up kind of guy. I see us as a couple. I can see myself married to you with a bunch of kids. Well?”
Cyrus barked so loud Amy thought her eardrums had ruptured.
Amy felt her eyes start to burn. So much for saying what was on her mind. She was going to strangle her mother as soon as she found her. She shrugged into her jacket. “Your silence tells me all I need to know. You can just kiss my…my…”
“Mouth? I’d be happy to oblige, but do you see that SUV out there with all those squealing kids? Jeez, they even brought the dog with them. I told you, it’s a family thing the minute it starts to snow. I will kiss you later, and you said it all better than I ever could. Start thinking about moving out to the Golden State. Five kids, two dogs, a cat, a bird, and some hamsters. You okay with that?” Gus called over his shoulder as he rushed out the door. “I’ll design us a house around you, Amy Baran.”
Amy stood rooted to the floor. “I think that was a proposal of sorts. Don’t you, Cyrus? If so, I’ll take it.” She wrapped her muffler around her neck and marched outside to greet the family with the squealing kids and barking dog.
I'll Be Home for Christmas Page 24
