Carrolls and Firrs: A Christmas Novella

by Janice M. Whiteaker

  Bruce nodded and gave his son a lopsided grin. “You’ll have to keep an eye on it. Once we run out your mother’s likely to sell the thing right off the floor. Decorations and all.”

  Doug tucked the roll of orange plastic tagging strip into the back pocket of his work jeans and shook his head as he walked back to the Gator. The air fogged around his face as he chuckled at the thought of his mother selling a fully decorated tree to one of the ladies who frequented the café. “I bet you’re right.”

  Doug slid in the driver’s seat beside his dad. The cold air had him wishing he’d at least zipped the door on his side of the buggy. “She might do it even if we don’t sell out.”

  “She’d sell me if the price was right.” His dad gave him a wink as Doug eased the all-terrain vehicle down the path, the cold wind pinking up his usually pale cheeks.

  Doug wished he could find as much humor in his mother’s willingness to sell the shoes off her own feet. But he couldn’t. Not after experiencing the low point that led her to do whatever it took to make a dime.

  Even now, when there were more than enough dimes to go around, his mother just couldn’t shake it. The need to take every opportunity to make more. Just in case because you never knew when the bottom would fall out from under you. In their case, again.

  The tires bounced over frozen ruts in the ground where the heavy equipment dug into last week’s still soft dirt to collect felled trees. Doug peeked out the side of his eye to be sure his dad was still tightly buckled into his seat.

  Bruce was gazing out over the rows of fir trees of all shapes and sizes, seeming unbothered by the cool temperature, breathing deep as he always did. “I love the smell of it out here.”

  Doug smiled at his dad. “I know you do.”

  “You need to stop and smell the trees more son.” Bruce was no longer looking wistfully over the family’s Christmas tree farm. Now his attention was on his son. His dark eyes clear and bright. “You’re working too hard again.”

  Doug sighed. He wasn’t working any harder than he’d worked last week or last year or the year before that. There were trees to tag and fell. Restaurants to run. Parents to take care of.

  “I am working just hard enough.” He gave his dad a reassuring smile. “I promise.” Doug turned back to the narrow lane that cut through two rows of taller trees, the orange tags he tied on earlier today blowing in the winter air. “Besides, I’ll have plenty of time to relax after the holiday rush is over.”

  Bruce snorted beside him. “I’ll believe that when I see it.”

  He was right. Doug was already setting up meetings for January. There was a narrow three-story building downtown he’d wanted for as long as he could remember. He finally managed to track the owner down and convinced him to consider selling. Once he closed the deal all that stood between the family business and adding a high end coffee shop to their portfolio was a few months of construction and a handful of inspections.

  “I just want to be sure we are all taken care of dad.” Doug eased the Gator around a sharp bend at the back of the forty-acre property, the sound of gravel crunching under tires audible over the low hum of the engine. “I don’t want you and mom to have to worry about anything...”

  Again hung unsaid in the air.

  Doug slowed the UTV to a stop beside the fence trimming the rear neighbor’s field, giving the horn two taps and shutting off the engine. He leaned over and grabbed the small bucket sitting at his dad’s feet. “You want to feed them?”

  “Nah.” Bruce stayed tucked under the blanket. “I think it’s your turn.”

  Doug propped up on one knee beside his dad and pulled out a long thin carrot stick, barely clearing the bucket rim before an eager set of teeth was nibbling at the edge, straining against the confines of the fence to reach across his father’s lap. Doug braced as another set nibbled at his sleeve, impatient for him to dish out the morning’s snacks.

  Bruce laughed beside him as a small doe mouthed his cheek in greeting. “Morning pretty lady.”

  Doug grabbed an apple slice for the young deer letting her take it from his flattened palm, her lips barely tickling his skin.

  “Where’s the big one?” His dad craned his neck as much as he could, trying to see the large buck that presided over their neighbors herd of mostly tame deer. “He hasn’t been out for a couple days.” Bruce’s brow furrowed as he looked over the dried brown field. “You think he’s okay?”

  Doug passed the last of the snacks to the girls that crowded the fence line every morning. “I’m sure he’s just fine. He’s never been one to get too close.”

  Bruce gave him a tight smile and a small nod of agreement. “That’s true.”

  Doug tucked the empty bucket back in its spot at his dad’s feet. He’d have to add checking in with Mr. Thomson to his list for the day. See if he’d seen the buck wandering around on the other end of his property.

  Doug started up the engine and pulled slowly away as his dad watched the group of deer wander back across the field, their interest in the empty back side of the property gone now that their mobile snack men were leaving. “Maybe we can call and see if Butch has seen him.”

  Doug nodded and kept his eye on the road. “I can do that.” No need to tell his dad that was already at the top of his list once they got back. It gnawed at him when one of the few things that could still bring his dad joy faltered. The thought of having to tell his dad something happened to that buck made him sick to his stomach.

  Bruce Firr lost so much already in his life. Doug hated to add one more thing to the constantly growing list.

  “What are you going to have for lunch?” Doug checked his watch, hoping his dad was hungry enough to take the bait and pull both of their thoughts away from the absentee buck.

  Bruce thought for a minute before looking at Doug. “You know what Aspen has as the special?”

  A tiny amount of the weight always resting on Doug’s shoulders lifted. “I believe she said something about short rib lasagna.”

  Bruce whistled. “It’s a wonder I’m not five-hundred pounds.”

  “That makes two of us.” Doug pulled around the last bend and the metal building that sat at the front of his parent’s property came into view. The parking lot was still packed at ten-thirty even though it wasn’t really breakfast or lunch time. Guess everyone was tired of Thanksgiving leftovers.

  The door to the garage at the back of the aged building slowly crept up as the Gator approached, creaking as it jostled its way up the tracks. His mother peeked under, her smile bright. “You get more tagged?”

  Doug eased the vehicle into the garage and parked, making sure there was plenty of room on his father’s side. “We did but I think that’s it for this year.” Doug reached to unbuckle his dad but his mom beat him to it. “If we cut anymore we’ll be sorry next year.”

  “Really.” His mother carefully lifted the belt from across Bruce’s chest. “What about the year after that? Will we be better stocked by then?”

  Doug angled his body out of the driver’s seat, being careful not to jostle the Gator now that his dad was unsecured. “I planted enough trees to stock the whole county. If we still run out then there’s not much more I can do.”

  “Well I guess it’s a good problem to have.” Janie planted a kiss on Bruce’s lips and gave her husband a warm smile. “I just hate to miss out on customers.”

  “You better chain that tree down son.” Bruce winked at his wife. “Maybe me too.”

  Janie rolled her hazel eyes behind the cherry red reading glasses perched at the end of her attractively wide nose. “I don’t even want to know.” She stepped out of the way, making room for Doug to roll his dad’s manual wheelchair in close.

  “Dad thinks you’d sell him to the highest bidder.” Doug locked the brakes and carefully wrapped his arms under his dad, making sure not to tangle the blanket beneath his tragically useless body. Slowly he lifted, moving Bruce from the Gator to his back-up chair.

  Janie
pulled off Bruce’s cap and smoothed down the perfectly clipped silver waves hidden underneath. “Not this face.” She looked thoughtful. “But I guess it depends on how much they’re willing to spend.”

  Bruce raised his brows at Doug as Janie pulled the blanket down and tucked it around his lap. “Told ya.”

  Janie paused almost imperceptibly as she ran her hands over Bruce’s deformed knuckles. Her brows came together before immediately smoothing back out. “Lunch is almost ready. You boys had perfect timing.”

  Doug unlocked the brakes on his dad’s wheelchair wanting to hurry the group into the warmth of the dining room. His dad would never complain, but Doug knew there were some days the cold was worse on him than others and today was one of those days. “I think I may have sparked some interest in the lasagna.”

  Janie kept her hand on her husband’s shoulder as the threesome rolled through the garage and into the office. Doug slipped off his heavy work coat and looped it over the free standing coat rack in the corner of the turquoise room. He helped his mother ease off his dad’s coat, hanging it beside his own as Janie took over, pushing his dad through the office door and into the hall that led to the main dining room.

  Doug opened the door, holding it wide as his mom and dad passed through. He waited for it to latch before heading straight to the coffee bar tucked beside the swinging kitchen doors, watching as his father greeted all the familiar faces with a smile as wide as the ocean.

  Eight years ago when he opened The Grove it was to give his sister a place to show off her amazing culinary talent and bring some year round capital into the family. Little did he know the difference it would make for his father.

  Bruce went from sitting in the house wasting away to asking to be out and about. Where his dad used to simply exist, now he was living. Enjoying what he could of the life he’d been handed.

  The restaurant helped his family in so many ways. It brought in enough money that they didn’t have to worry anymore. It brought his sister fulfillment. His father happiness. It should be enough. He should be able to relax, like his father suggested.

  But it wasn’t enough. And Doug couldn’t convince himself it was.

  “Can I get a latte?” Doug smiled at the kid running the bar this morning. He was a recent hire from the high school and a quick study. His sister was going to be honked off when Doug stole him for the new shop. The teenager made one heck of a cup of coffee.

  And this town could use some place to get a good cup of coffee. Right now there was the gas station and the other gas station unless a person wanted to drive outside the city limits for a specialty cup from The Grove’s bar.

  Maybe he should have mentioned that to the pretty brunette at the gas station the other morning.

  Who was he kidding. The words were on his lips when her phone rang for the five-hundredth time, stopping them in their tracks.

  Doug looked out over the dining room as he waited on his next shot of caffeine.

  Janie scooted Bruce up to a table with a group of their friends and patted his shoulders before scanning the room, her eyes landing on Doug. She crossed the room, weaving between the packed tables giving out smiles and waves.

  “How is he today?” She backed up to the high stainless steel counter and leaned into it, crossing her arms over her chest.

  Doug nodded a thank you as his coffee slid across the counter and took a sip before answering. His mother already knew or she wouldn’t be asking but that wouldn’t stop her from being upset when he confirmed her suspicions. “Man that kid can make coffee.”

  Janie raised an eyebrow. “His name is David and yes, David makes wonderful coffee.” She nodded at the dining room. “He’s hurting today isn’t he?”

  Doug sighed. “Yeah. He wouldn’t feed the deer this morning.”

  Anger lined Janie’s face. “It just isn’t fair.” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I hate it.”

  “Me too.”

  The sound of Bruce’s laughter echoed across the room, bouncing off the height of the open ceilings. Doug dropped his arm over his mother’s shoulders. “He doesn’t seem to be to upset about it right now.”

  Janie nodded. She made a small sniffing noise and straightened. “I guess that’s all I can ask for.”

  “You might want to hold off on the lasagna until the crowd thins though.” No matter how much better his dad was or how well he seemed to be handling the cards he was dealt, a man still had his pride.

  “Good idea.” Janie patted Doug’s chest, her collection of bracelets jingling. “Are you sticking around?”

  “I may go check in on the stores in town. See who’s running low and figure out the best way to spread out the last of the trees.” Doug turned to David and ordered a coffee to go. “I should be back by one. We can go over the plans for next week with Aspen if you guys have time.”

  Janie fiddled with the top button of Doug’s flannel shirt. “I’ll make sure we have time. It’s the only way I get a family meal anymore.” She patted his chest. “Just don’t work too hard.”

  “Never do.” Doug took his coffee from David and gave his mom a grin.

  She shook her head at him. “Liar.”

  He kissed her on the head. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  Doug unlocked the hall door and grabbed his coat from the office. His mom and dad may worry about him but hard work is what grows businesses. Hard work is what makes money. Hard work is what builds success.

  And hard work is what saved his family.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Closed while flooring is replaced. See you next week.

  “Well that stinks.” Betsy crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at the sign taped to the Koffee Kup’s front door. “I’m sorry No—” She caught herself mid name and wrinkled her nose. “Sorry. It might take me a bit to get used to you going by Ellie.”

  Ellie grinned at the woman who was her best friend all through high school. “Yeah, well you’re married.” She widened her eyes. “To Josh Meyers of all people. Talk about taking some getting used to.” She pointed down at her friend’s blooming belly. “And then there’s that.”

  Betsy looked down. “That makes this even worse.” She grabbed the sides of her six-months-pregnant tummy. “This thing is always hungry.” She looked up at the sign and huffed.

  “It’s not the only one. I’m starving.” Ellie rubbed her hands together before tucking them into her armpits. She nodded to the Jeep. “Jump in and we can decide where to eat while we’re warm.”

  Ellie turned the fans up full blast and held her hands over the grates. “Where sounds good?”

  Betsy shrugged as she wrestled the belt across her diminishing lap. “I guess we’ll have to drive up to the mall.”

  Ellie looked at her friend out of the corner of her eye. “Isn’t there a new place just outside town? I heard someone talking about it at the grocery yesterday. The Grove?”

  Betsy gasped. “Ellie your parents would die if they knew you went there.”

  She couldn’t stop the eye roll. “We are adults who are allowed to go wherever we want.” Ellie clicked her own belt into place and shifted the Jeep into reverse. “It’s one of the perks of growing up. Your parents don’t get to tell you what to do anymore.”

  Betsy looked unconvinced. “I know you’ve been gone but Ellie, they hate the Firrs.” Her friend’s eyes were wide. “I mean like seriously hate them.”

  Ellie threw her hands up in frustration. “So I have to hate them too?” She pulled onto the road. “They don’t even have a good reason to hate them.”

  Betsy sat quietly in the passenger seat.

  Ellie blew out a breath. “Sorry. It’s just not easy being back.”

  Betsy snorted beside her. “I can’t imagine why.”

  Ellie had to laugh. If anyone in the world knew how her parents could be it was Betsy. “Do you remember the time they lost their minds because Mrs. Combs took over our third grade Christmas party?”

  Betsy shook her head. �
�No one could forget that.”

  Cris and Dale were outraged that anyone else would even consider themselves half as capable of throwing a Christmas party as the holiday driven power couple. It was the first time Ellie realized what her parents were. What motivated them. What surrounded them. And what they created.

  Drama.

  The Firrs weren’t what was killing the Carrolls’ business.

  They were.

  Whether they could or would see it or not, Cris and Dale were their own worst enemies.

  “Well I can guarantee my parents won’t be there so there is no way they will ever know we were there.” Ellie glanced at Betsy. “Not that it would matter to me if they did.” Ellie smiled. She was an adult and could eat wherever she wanted.

  Take that.

  “I was just worried about you.” Betsy gave a small shrug. “I eat there all the time.”

  Ellie gave her friend a satisfied nod. “Good.”

  At least Betsy wasn’t holding her parents’ empty claims against the Firrs.

  And from the looks of the parking lot at The Grove, no one else in town was either. The place was packed. Luckily a set of older women were just shutting their car doors when Ellie turned into the lot. She swept the jeep into their vacated parking spot and looked up at the aged metal building. Large windows cut into the tall, blue grey structure, breaking up the starkness of the basic design and giving it an industrial sort of feel. “Wow.”

  “Wow is right. Wait until you see the inside.” Betsy was already stepping out of the Jeep. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

  Ellie stepped out and tried to take it all in. The building was so different from anything else in Bradbury. Most of the businesses were housed in the historic downtown area or a few new buildings and the small shopping center at the other side of town near the mall.

  This felt old and new at the same time. Modern, industrial, and rustic. It was beautiful. And if the food tasted half as good as the restaurant looked then it was no wonder the place was packed to the hilt.