The Christmas Tree

by Allyson Charles

  Colt pushed it closed with his finger. It was giving him all sorts of ideas inappropriate for a Monday morning in the town square. “There were three angels, Jerome. This harebrained idea only involved Sadie and Allison. You should have gone with Rizzoli and Isles. Or if you want to go old school, Cagney and Lacey.”

  “Naw, I got it right. You’re the third angel.” Jerome eyed Colt, smirked. “You definitely strike me as the Sabrina.” He rubbed his chin as a smile stretched across his face. “Except I don’t think Sabrina was ever caught making out with Kelly. Would have made the show much more interesting.”

  Sadie interrupted Colt’s heated retort. “Did you tell him about my plan?” Colt shook his head. “How did you know what we were doing?” she asked Jerome.

  The cop bounced on the balls of his feet, blew on his hands. “Judge Nichols told me what you and Allison were up to. How he found out . . .” He shrugged his shoulders. “That’s a small town for you. See you two later.” He turned the collar of his parka up as he walked away.

  “Does the judge have my phone bugged? How could he know?”

  Colt moved behind her and rubbed her shoulders. “It doesn’t really matter, does it? There are more important things to talk about.”

  Turning back to face him, she tipped her head. “Yes, there are. Why’d you shave?” Sadie raised her hand and Colt leaned into her touch when she cupped his bare cheek.

  “I didn’t want to see your face get all scratched up,” he said gruffly. “And since I don’t plan to stop kissing you, the beard needed to go.” That was an understatement. He didn’t need to admit that his stomach had twisted when he saw her face all scratched up, that even such a small abrasion didn’t sit right with him. She didn’t need to know she had reduced him to such a pathetic state.

  “I liked when it scratched me.” She ran a finger down his chin. “But I have to admit it is nice seeing all of your face. You do have a cleft.” He smiled down at her. “And dimples! You’ve been hiding dimples all this time?”

  Colt laughed and grabbed her finger. She sounded so indignant, like she had caught him hiding a girlfriend or two instead of the stupid dents in his cheeks. He had to admit it. She was utterly charming and he was, in fact, charmed. When they weren’t fighting, he couldn’t remember ever enjoying a woman’s company so much. They didn’t even have to be doing anything. Sure, there were a lot of things he wanted to do to her. He was a guy, after all. But just standing here in front of the whole town, holding her finger, was enough for now.

  “I can’t remember the last time someone commented on my dimples,” he said.

  “That’s because you don’t smile enough.” Sadie eyes widened as he brought her finger to his lips and lightly kissed it.

  “I just needed something to smile about.” A couple of teenagers walked by and snickered. He lowered her hand but didn’t release it. “We should get started on the tree before we draw a crowd. I’m sure everyone’s already heard about what we were up to last night.”

  Sadie blushed, took a step back. “Right. Well, someone left a bag of ornaments under the tree this morning and I expect more to come throughout the day. Allison put the word out that we needed more decorations and asked people to donate what they could.”

  He scratched at his bare cheek, the smooth skin unfamiliar. “And how many more ornaments do we need?”

  “However many we can get. Allison and I thought it would be nice to have a Pineville community-themed tree, so keep your eye out for any ornaments that fit the bill. We can display those more prominently on the ends of the branches.” Sitting down by the paper bag, she started digging through the donated items. She looked back up at Colt, who wasn’t moving. “The ribbon isn’t going to bend itself into bows. Get cracking, mister.”

  He shook his head but couldn’t keep from smiling. “Yes, ma’am.”

  They worked in companionable silence, Colt taking every opportunity he could to brush up against her when he went to hang the bows. She in turn seemed to take every opportunity to bend over in front of him, driving him crazy with the view of her in those snug jeans. He was used to there being tension between them when they decorated the tree, but this was a whole different kind. He was trying to calculate if they would both fit under the tree for a little make-out session (they would) when Pachelbel’s Canon in D rang out from Sadie’s cell phone.

  She peered at the screen, then up at him, eyes wide. “It’s her. The woman who might buy my business.”

  He walked over to her, mentally crossing all his fingers and toes. She was desperate for the sale. “Well, answer it,” he said.

  She took in a deep breath and put the phone to her ear. “Good morning, Sam. How are you doing?” Her voice was firm and even, not giving even a hint of her nerves. He pulled in a deep breath, hooked his thumbs into his belt loops. This woman was something else.

  Colt eavesdropped as much as he could, but Sadie’s occasional “uh-huh” and “yes, that’s right” didn’t give him any indication of how the conversation was going. If she didn’t sell her business to this woman, she probably wouldn’t have time to remodel her grandmother’s house. She’d be in Ann Arbor looking for another buyer. Several hours away. He clenched his jaw. He didn’t like the thought of that.

  A big smile broke across Sadie’s face, and he released a deep breath. “That sounds great,” she said. A furrow creased her brow. “I don’t know if I can make it today.”

  He clasped her shoulders and mouthed yes, you can down at her. She pursed her lips but nodded.

  “No, I’ll be there. Noon. See you then.” Sadie ended the call, then threw her arms around his shoulders. “Oh, thank God. She wants my business. And it’s a decent offer. I’ll be able to settle up what I owe and get the bill collectors off my back.” She stepped away. “Are you sure about me leaving? I might be gone all day.”

  “I’m sure. Go do what you need to do.”

  She chewed her bottom lip. “But what about Jerome? I’m supposed to be here every day.”

  “I’ll cover with Jerome. I’ll tell him you’re out buying more decorations. As long as we get this tree done, it doesn’t matter how we manage our time.”

  “All right.” She nodded decisively. “I’ll hurry back.”

  “Don’t hurry. Drive safe. I’ll take care of everything here and you go handle your business.” Sadie nodded, flew to her car, and peeled out of her parking spot. He shook his head. There was a lot of space between her idea of driving safe and his idea. But he couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips. That sale had clearly just made her year.

  He returned to making bows and wondered what this would mean for her life. Selling her business meant one less connection to Ann Arbor. It also increased his chances of seeing her for the next month during the remodel. Would a month be enough time to explore this . . . whatever this was going on between them?

  And if, after that month, she went back to Ann Arbor, back to the life she’d had before she’d met him, what would he do? What would that mean for his life?

  * * *

  Samantha Powers signed her name with a large looping scrawl and pushed the contract across the desk to her attorney. Smiling at Sadie, she said, “Easy part’s done. Now that I own the business, I have to get my butt in gear making it profitable.”

  Sadie forced her own mouth to curve up, not wanting to dampen the woman’s spirits. Sam was just excited about her new venture. She hadn’t meant to insult Sadie, but Sadie felt the blow just the same. Sadie Wilson Designs no longer existed—eight years of her life gone with the swirl of her pen.

  Sam’s attorney rose to his feet and left the small conference room to make copies of the signed contract. The man, looking barely old enough to shave, had advised Sadie to have her own attorney review the document, but she’d declined. The contract was only seven pages, double-spaced, and surprisingly easy to read.

  And Sadie hadn’t wanted any more delays. Her failure as a business owner was a Band-Aid she wanted torn fro
m her skin, the sooner done the sooner the sting would fade. Taking a deep breath, she realized that the loss of her business wasn’t as crushing as she had expected. A month ago when she’d first made contact with Sam, she’d cried herself to sleep anticipating this moment, when the death of all her past dreams and the pressures of finding a new career collided.

  The defeat still stung. A part of it probably always would as Sadie hated to fail at anything. Her stomach still trembled. But the nerves that swamped her had more to do with anticipation of her future rather than anxiety.

  The attorney returned and handed Sadie a manila envelope. “Here’s your copy of the contract. And here”—he handed her a smaller white envelope—“is your check.”

  Sadie pulled it out, saw the zeroes, and blew out a big breath. “Thank you,” she told Sam. “Good luck with your new business.” Stuffing the check in the larger envelope, she shook hands with Sam and the attorney and nearly skipped from the building. One huge worry was gone.

  Her bank was less than a mile away and Sadie decided to walk. The air was crisp, the sky was blue, and her bank balance would soon be bloated. All in all, it was a good day and it was easy to keep regret to a minimum.

  After depositing her check, Sadie strolled the streets of downtown Ann Arbor, poking her head in its boutiques, retracing steps she’d taken hundreds of times before. Each city block was familiar, yet nothing looked quite the same. She couldn’t put her finger on the difference. While sitting down for lunch at her favorite soup bistro, the same trendy hipsters filtered past, the same young mothers in yoga pants and salon blowouts chatted, enjoying the afternoon.

  No, Ann Arbor obviously hadn’t changed in the few days Sadie had been gone. But somehow she had. Being back in Ann Arbor was like trying to shimmy into her bathing suit the day after Thanksgiving, the material not quite fitting her overfed body.

  She paid her tab, headed back to her car. She was probably still in vacation mode, her body tuned to the slower pace of Pineville and unwilling to switch back to the real world. Nothing else made sense. After she and Colt flipped her grandmother’s house, she’d be ready to return to her old life. A month in that small town and she would be rejuvenated, ready to hit the ground running in her job search.

  Her steps slowed and she peered into the cluttered window of a small storefront. A large American flag covered the back wall, but it was the foot-high aluminum star on a shelf that caught her eye.

  Twenty minutes later the star was lying on her passenger seat. Sadie knew an artist who lived near the campus of Michigan State University, and she hoped he could accommodate her request. She had purchased many of his unique pieces for her business and hoped his talent could help her out now. Drumming her fingers on the steering wheel, Sadie couldn’t wait to show the finished product to Colt, if the star turned out the way she hoped it would. Maybe she’d get another glimpse of those dimples.

  She shifted in her seat, eager to get back to Colt. Her body hummed, remembering every kiss, each caress. For hands used to manual labor, his touch had been surprisingly gentle, but had stirred her up just the same. She had tossed and turned in bed last night, their interrupted tryst leaving her body feeling needy. Parts of her body had been downright cranky. They demanded more of Colt’s attention, and Sadie was more than willing to oblige her hormones.

  In a month full of worry and problems, he was a bright spot. Pushing the accelerator down a little more firmly, Sadie sailed through town, anxious to accomplish her errand and return to Colt.

  Everything in her life might be changing, and she didn’t know how her future in Ann Arbor would pan out. But for the moment, she could enjoy all the delicious moments the start of a new relationship produced. When she was in Colt’s arms, she could ignore the fact that her life in Ann Arbor was a mess. His embrace felt like home, and she was going to enjoy that for as long as her time in Pineville allowed.

  * * *

  The day dragged without Sadie’s presence. If Colt never decorated a Christmas tree again, it would be too soon. Throughout the day, friends and neighbors stopped by, dropping off bags of used ornaments, eager for a chat. Sadie was a popular topic of conversation and he wasn’t surprised that most everyone had a good word to say. The exception came in the form of two bundled-up old ladies, each carrying a large shopping bag.

  “Miss Eugenie. Mrs. Garcia. How are you two doing today?” Colt forced a polite smile. Bending down, he gave Shep a good chest rub, the shaggy dog leaning heavily against his leg. Along with the booties, the poor guy now sported a matching knit sweater, stretched tight over his masses of fur. The dog was probably as hot as a roofer laying tar in August.

  Mrs. Garcia glared up at the tree and snorted. “Ribbon. Not a very creative decoration, but I suppose it will have to do.”

  Considering that was the nicest thing she’d said about their tree, Colt raised an eyebrow in surprise.

  Miss Eugenie tugged down on her knit cap. “Well, what do you expect from a decorator from Ann Arbor? Big-city designers don’t go for decorations that pop. They all go for boring designs that won’t offend anyone. Very minimalist,” she added with a decided sniff.

  He eyed the tree and wondered how big red bows could be considered minimalist. “Is there something I can help you ladies with? I do need to get back to work on our boring tree.”

  Mrs. Garcia thrust her bag into his stomach. “You could take our bags for us. I don’t know what kind of manners they teach these days, but my Sergio never let me carry anything in his presence. He was a gentleman.”

  He peeked in the bag, then took the one from Miss Eugenie’s hand. It swung into Shep’s head and the dog woofed. “Sorry,” he muttered down at the mutt. To the women before him, “Ornaments? I didn’t think you two would want to help with the tree this year.”

  Mrs. Garcia shook her head vigorously, the soft skin under her chin wiggling. “We want this tree to be a success. The chances of our tree beating Clarion Township this year are slim, since Eugenie and I were denied our rightful places as the tree’s decorators, but that doesn’t mean we won’t do all we can to ensure Pineville’s victory.”

  Miss Eugenie’s sharp elbow connected with Mrs. Garcia’s padded side.

  Colt looked at the two women. “I didn’t know there was a competition between Pineville’s and Clarion Township’s trees. Judge Nichols never said.”

  Miss Eugenie tugged on her hat. “There is no competition, right, Debbie?”

  Mrs. Garcia huffed, but nodded. “And that Judge Nichols doesn’t—” This time Miss Eugenie stepped on her friend’s foot to silence her. Mrs. Garcia scowled down at her, but turned her head to where the tiny woman pointed. The woman seemed to shrink before Colt’s eyes when Judge Nichols strolled up. “Good afternoon, Judge,” she said, her voice unusually sweet.

  “Afternoon, ladies. Colt.” Judge Nichols wasn’t a large man, probably no taller than five-five, with a softly rounded belly, but he had presence. He wore a long, buttoned-up black coat, reminiscent of his robes, and a jaunty red scarf knotted at his neck. His white hair wasn’t covered by a hat and the tips of his ears were just about as crimson as his scarf.

  “I see you’ve come to donate some ornaments to our tree,” the judge said. He linked his hands behind his back and rocked onto the balls of his feet. “It’s wonderful to see our town rally together. And doesn’t the tree look lovely this year?”

  Miss Eugenie looked like she wanted to argue that point. Mrs. Garcia looked like she’d just sucked on a lemon. And Shep sat on Colt’s boot. But no one contradicted the judge.

  “Yes, lovely. Just lovely. You and Miss Wilson have done a real fine job, Colt.” He winked at the women. “They broke the law at just the right time, didn’t they?”

  Mrs. Garcia sniffed.

  Clearing her throat, Miss Eugenie said, “Yes, Judge.”

  Colt couldn’t believe it. The tree twins were actually . . . nice to someone. Respectful. He didn’t know if it was some voodoo the judge practiced or if t
hey were trying to sweeten the man up in hopes of getting their decorating duties back next year. Either way, watching two battle-axes turn meek was unsettling. And entertaining.

  Miss Eugenie tugged on her hat, pulling it down until it almost covered her eyes. It didn’t quite hide the sidelong glance she sent the judge. Or the flush that crept up her neck. “Well, we must be off. We have a social networking class at the community college to get to.”

  A chorus of saccharine goodbyes filled the air, Colt included in their farewells—for appearances’ sake in front of the judge, he was sure—and the tree twins took their leave. They shuffled to the street, their heads bobbing furiously in argument. Shep waddled behind them, the tip of his shaggy tail dragging on the ground.

  “Wow.” Colt stared at the judge and slowly shook his head. “That is some power you get with your gavel.”

  “It can come in handy now and then.” He peeked over first one shoulder then the other before leaning toward Colt. “I haven’t gotten a speeding ticket since 1978!” he whispered with glee.

  It also didn’t hurt that the judge drove slow enough to pace a turtle. Getting caught behind his car on a two-lane road was an experience Colt had no desire to repeat. “Ah . . . I just want to let you know that Sadie will be right back. She just went to, uh, the bathroom.” He was certain that she would be going to the bathroom at some point on her trip to Ann Arbor, so it wasn’t really a lie. And women could spend an unheard-of amount of time in the toilet, especially when they went in groups, so the excuse was good for a while. Still, he decided to change the subject. “So, what do you really think?” He lifted a hand to the tree. “Is it nice enough to satisfy your conditions?”

  “Do you think it’s nice enough?”

  Colt hated it when his questions were answered with questions. The old man’s eyes twinkled, amusement at Colt’s irritation shining through. Colt rolled his shoulders. “I thought it was good enough two days ago.”

  “Two days ago.” Judge Nichols walked up to the tree and poked at a star-shaped ornament, making it twirl back and forth. “No, two days ago the tree wasn’t near to being ready.”