The Christmas Tree

by Allyson Charles

  “I know,” she said. “I read a couple of them. Most of them were really sad. A lot of people who couldn’t make it home for Christmas.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You do know the people who wrote these would be dead by now? Nothing to be sad about anymore.”

  She snatched the postcard out of his hand. “Such a guy,” she muttered.

  His lips turned up. “Hey, I thought you had a surprise for me. I raced all the way here.”

  “Yes.” She shifted on her feet and gave him a small smile. “It’s in the car. It’s really for the tree, but when I saw it, I thought of you. I hope you like it.”

  “We’ll never know if I don’t see it. Should I get it for you?”

  “No, you stay here.” Sadie pulled her keys from her pocket, fiddled with them. “I’ll be right back.”

  She jogged to her car and pulled a box out of the trunk. Hoping she hadn’t made a mistake, she went back to the man who had shared her bed last night and gently placed the large box at his feet. He knelt down and used his knife to cut through the tape that held the top shut. “If you don’t like it, we don’t have to use it,” Sadie said quickly.

  He dug through a forest of tissue paper, then lifted the object free of the box. He stared at it quietly.

  “It’s a tree topper. Well, I don’t think it’s actually supposed to be used as a tree topper, I don’t know what it’s supposed to be used for, maybe to sit on top of a flag, but with its hollow base, it should sit on the top of the tree just fine. We didn’t have one and when I saw this at an antique store, I thought it would be perfect.” She was babbling but couldn’t stop. She really wanted him to like it. Catching her breath, she forced herself to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, solemn.

  “You don’t like it.” She reached for the aluminum star that had an eagle embossed on the front. An emblem of the army, its wings stretched across two points of the star, one claw grasping an olive branch, the other an arrow. The star was punched through with several small holes that she had thought would look great lit from within by a strand of lights.

  Colt pulled it away from her outstretched hand. He ran his fingers over the corrugated metal, tracing the shield that covered the breast of the eagle, the shield that had been her addition to the tree topper. It contained a sun, star, and bolt of lightning. “The symbol of the army rangers.” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “I love it. I just can’t believe someone thought to make one of these.”

  “Well, they didn’t, not quite.” She swallowed, trying to bring some moisture to her dry mouth. “This store I walked past had a lot of military-themed knickknacks, and it had this eagle. I took it to a friend of mine, an artist I know who works with metal, and he etched in the symbol of the rangers that I’d downloaded off the internet.”

  Squeezing his arm with trembling hands, she stepped closer to him, his warmth a balm to her nerves. “I know it’s not traditional and I hope it’s appropriate. The eagle is rather understated. I think most people will just see a star when they look up at the top of the tree. But we are having a Pineville-themed tree, so I thought this would be fitting.” She traced the head of the bird. “It’s like Caleb will be a part of Christmas this year.”

  Colt rubbed his chest. “Not just a part. He’s at the top of the tree, watching out for all of us. That’s just where he’d want to be.”

  “So you really like it? You’re not just saying so?”

  “I really like it.” He stood and reached his hand out to help her rise. “Let’s go put it in its place.” They climbed the scaffolding and Colt leaned out and fiddled with the lights at the top of the tree. He loosened the strand and shoved a handful of lights up through the base of the star, then settled the tree topper on the bristly branch. Tilting to one side, the star refused to stand straight until Colt shoved wisps of evergreen up into its base, keeping it steady.

  He stepped back and cocked his head, eyeing the star critically. “I’m going to go plug the extension cord into the power supply. Stay here and tell me if the lights are good inside, okay?”

  She nodded. About thirty seconds later, a large smile broke across her face. She leaned over the railing. “It works. It’s going to look great Thursday night.”

  He waved, and unplugged the cord. “I’ll bring some bags up to you,” he shouted. “We have a lot to do if we want to hang all these ornaments by Thursday.”

  * * *

  Sadie hummed to a Christmas carol streaming through Colt’s cell phone. She danced while she decorated, until Colt told her to get down from the scaffolding if she was going to bounce around up there. Rolling her eyes, she joined him on the ground to hang ornaments, happy enough with any excuse to stand closer to her lumberjack.

  He pulled something pink and hairy from one of the bags and she walked over to examine it. “My God, what is that?”

  He turned it one way then another. “I think it’s supposed to be an elf. Santa Claus?”

  She fingered the Pepto-Bismol-colored yarn that fringed the object. “With pink hair? I don’t think so.”

  “So what is it?”

  “Something that’s definitely not going on our tree, that’s for sure.” She took the object from him and tossed it toward the bag. It hit the edge, crumpling the paper, and fell to the ground.

  “I think that came from one of the tree twins.” Colt reached for another brown bag.

  She moved to the fallen ornament and picked it back up. “Why are they called the tree twins? They don’t look anything alike, not even similar enough to be sisters.”

  He pulled something feathery out from his bag, wrinkled his nose, tossed it back in. “Because of how they act alike. And the tree part should be obvious.”

  “But twins don’t act alike.” She hung the ornament from her finger and watched it sway. It was so ugly it was almost hypnotic. “The few I’ve known have had really different personalities.”

  “Consider them fraternal twins then.” Rubbing his brow, he stared into the bag.

  “Those don’t act alike either.”

  Colt tilted his head back and closed his eyes.

  She scratched her temple. “I have heard of some studies of identical twins who weren’t raised together—”

  His hand snaked out and grabbed the ugly ornament. He clasped her shoulders, crushing the stuffed monstrosity into her coat. “Princess, please, you’re killing me.”

  She frowned. “What?”

  “You’re arguing about something that doesn’t matter in the least.”

  Shaking her head, she pulled the ornament from his hand. “But it doesn’t make sense.”

  “Who cares? Not everything has to make sense, or go by one of your checklists for what constitutes the definition of the word ‘twin.’ It’s just something they’re called around here. Can we please move on?”

  “Fine.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Good.” He matched her pose, his lips twitching suspiciously.

  The back of her neck grew hot. “Are you laughing at me? First you insult me, then you laugh at me?”

  Colt reached out and pried her hands from her body and wrapped them around his waist before placing his own low on her back. “Not laughing. Just think you’re cute when you get pissy. Your cheeks get all red and your mouth . . .”

  He trailed off at her narrow-eyed glare.

  “Anyway, I didn’t insult you. Just pointing out that you like things . . . very orderly, even in your own mind.”

  Her mind whirled. Was that a bad thing? She didn’t mean to be pedantic, but why shouldn’t things make sense? She started to drop her hands from his sides.

  He grabbed her elbows, holding her arms in place. “And there’s nothing wrong with that, princess. Didn’t want to admit it when I first met you, but your organizational skills are kind of a turn-on. Just don’t want to get in a discussion and have you pull your dictionary out on me.” Bending his head, he dropped a kiss first on the tip of her nose before lightly brushing against her lips
. “Okay?” he whispered.

  She nodded. “Okay.” They stood staring at each other, their breath heating each other’s mouths. At this distance, his eyes were mesmerizing. Mossy pools she could drown in. His request wasn’t unreasonable. As long as he kept looking at her like that, she could make some concessions.

  A blaring car horn snapped her back from his embrace. Jerome drove by in his cruiser, his hand snaking out the window to wave.

  Clearing her throat, she stepped to the side and placed the ornament back in its bag. “Well, when we return this to the tree twins”—a flicker of heat coiled through her belly at the smile he gave her—“we’ll just tell them we didn’t use it because the weather would destroy it and we didn’t want that to happen.” At his raised eyebrow, she crossed her arms. “Rain or snow would ruin it. That’s not a lie.”

  “That thing is ugly enough to scare away any clouds. And what an awful color.” He hung a wooden angel on the tree, missing the way her eyes narrowed.

  She poked him in the shoulder. “I’ll have you know that my Christmas tree is just about that color.”

  His jaw dropped. “You have a pink tree?”

  “Silver and pink, yes.” She sighed. “Stop looking so horrified. It’s very pretty. I haven’t put it out yet, though.” She bit her lip. “I probably won’t bother getting it out of storage this year. When I get back to Ann Arbor, there won’t be enough time to enjoy it to make it worth the trouble.” Wouldn’t be much time to enjoy the holiday at all. Usually she had drinks with friends on Christmas Eve, then spent the next day at home watching movies. Sometimes she went to a cousin’s house for Christmas dinner. She had always found the holiday relaxing, peaceful. Now the thought of going back to Ann Arbor to spend the holiday alone made her chest ache.

  “You have a fake tree.” His tone made it sound as though she had just admitted to dancing naked around a yule log.

  “An artificial tree. They’re cost-effective and environmentally friendly,” she said defensively.

  He held up his hands. “Not going to say anything.” They hung ornaments silently while he digested that tidbit. Finally, he cleared his throat and asked, “So, you’re going to be in Ann Arbor for Christmas?”

  “It’s where I live.”

  He hung another ornament. “Now that you’ve sold your business, nothing is holding you there, right?”

  She turned to face him. “No. I guess I don’t have any binding ties anywhere now.” What exactly was he asking her? Did he want her to spend Christmas with him? She swallowed, her mouth dry. That could be . . . nice. She blew out a deep breath. She shouldn’t get ahead of herself. “I have friends there, of course. And after we flip my grandmother’s house, I’ll have to find more work. I’m sure I could get a job there.”

  “Ann Arbor isn’t the only place with jobs.” He broke eye contact and shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll do such a great job flipping your grandmother’s house, that will be a new career for you.”

  Blinking rapidly, she chewed the idea over. It sounded like he wanted her around for more than just Christmas. Even though her pulse pounded in her neck, she tried to appear calm, moving an ornament from its cramped position shoved between two branches to another bough where it could dangle freely. This conversation was happening too soon in their relationship. Wasn’t it?

  Before she could think of a response, his phone rang, abruptly cutting off the Christmas carol. He kept his eyes on her face as he answered it. “Colt here.”

  The person at the other end of the line kept up a steady stream of conversation. Colt’s jaw tensed. “Uh-huh. Yeah.” Another burst from the feminine voice. “Yeah, Janice. I’ll be right there.” He ended the call.

  “Problem at work?” she asked.

  He rubbed his face. “Yeah. My men can’t find six thousand square feet of teak flooring we special ordered that’s supposed to be laid tomorrow.” His lips twisted in disgust. “Maybe Carelli’s moved up from stealing information to stealing inventory.”

  Sadie huffed out a breath. “Don’t accuse the man when you don’t have any facts yet. I swear, you act like that man is your personal Lex Luthor.”

  He stepped closer. “Are you calling me Superman, princess? Because that’s a nickname I could definitely get behind. Especially if you started calling me that after last night.” Colt’s smile was slow and wicked.

  “Get out of here.” She shoved him playfully. “Go take care of your problem.”

  He trapped her hand to his chest, his heart beating steady beneath her palm. “Will I see you later tonight? I don’t think I’ll be finished with work by dinnertime, but after?”

  “I wouldn’t miss it.”

  He brushed his lips over the corner of her mouth and jogged off. She glanced around the square to see who might have witnessed his kiss. No one was obviously staring, but she had no doubt that nugget of gossip would be spread around town within the next ten minutes.

  She continued hanging ornaments and sighed. She didn’t know if she could get used to that part of small-town life. Living anonymously in a larger city definitely had its pluses. But the flipside of the small-town gossip was that neighbors helped each other out when needed. They cared about their community. Sadie looked at the heaps of bags full of ornaments. That was especially true of this town.

  Her hand froze, an ornament swinging from her finger. Would she actually consider moving to Pineville? She chewed on her bottom lip. She had never been impulsive when it came to relationships. She was the one who advised her friends to keep a steady head. It would be the height of foolishness to move to a new town for a man she had known less than a week.

  So why did the idea of settling in with Colt make her tingle all over? New dreams were born every day and Sadie could see herself living in her grandmother’s home, making it her own, hers and Colt’s. She pressed a hand to her stomach. Pure fantasy at this point. But, she thought as she hung a gold star on the tree, there was nothing wrong with dreaming. She would be in Pineville for at least a month, renovating the house. She would just wait and see where things led with Colt.

  Five o’clock rolled around and Sadie stretched. Jerome wasn’t even coming around anymore to make sure they stayed the full eight hours. The streetlights around the square cut through the dark, and Sadie gathered the remaining ornaments into their bags and pushed them under the tree’s branches for cover. She walked over to The Pantry, immediately enveloped in warmth and noise and the scent of roasted turkey.

  Allison stood behind the counter. She picked up the plate of food from the man sitting in front of her and shoved it to his chest. “You, go eat over there. This is Sadie’s seat.”

  The man grumbled but must have been used to Allison’s behavior because he slid his paunch out of the stool and went to a table at the far end of the café without a fight. He even smiled at Sadie as he ambled past.

  She slid onto the warm seat. “You can’t kick people out of their spots.”

  “I just did.”

  “But it’s rude. And you could lose customers.” Sadie reached for a plastic menu.

  “He’s still here. You’re still here. Stop worrying so much.” Allison grabbed a mug and poured Sadie a cup of coffee. “So how’s it going today?”

  Sadie bounced her feet on the stool’s rail. “We’re almost done with the tree. Just a couple more hours tomorrow, I think.”

  “That’s all well and good,” Allison drawled, “but I’m more interested in how things are going between you and Colt. Hot and heavy, the way I hear it.” She wiggled her eyebrows and Sadie laughed.

  “Someone saw him give me a peck when he left today and that qualifies as ‘hot and heavy’ in this town?” She shook her head and took a sip of coffee.

  Allison placed her elbows on the counter. “That was small potatoes. I hate to break it to you, honey, but people keep track of whose houses trucks are parked in front of. And when they leave. I had three different people inform me that Colt spent the night with you.”


  Cheeks burning, Sadie leaned closer to Allison. “That’s outrageous,” she hissed. “I don’t want people keeping track of who I sleep with. It’s no one’s business but mine.”

  Allison patted her hand. “Like I said, you worry too much. People like to talk about it, but no one really cares. Everyone here loves Colt, and the people who’ve met you like you, as well. The town’s rooting for you two.”

  “Not everyone,” declared a cold voice from over Sadie’s shoulder. She turned in her stool. Connie stood behind her, as put together as ever in designer jeans, a silk blouse, and a houndstooth jacket. Her brown hair was pulled into such a tight knot behind her head that the skin at her temples stretched taut.

  Connie stepped to the counter, her body pressing between Sadie and the patron in the next seat. “I came for my order,” she told Allison.

  “It looks like you came to start something.” Allison crossed her arms over her generous chest. “I know you’ve been sniffing around Colt, but it appears he made a different choice. Respect it.”

  “I don’t sniff around anyone, as you so quaintly put it.” She tapped her manicured nails on the counter. “And Colt just chose his flavor of the moment.” She turned and pierced Sadie with her gaze. “You’ll be gone as soon as the tree gets lit, and I’ll still be here. For Colt.”

  “Colt isn’t Caleb,” Allison said in a low voice. “Brothers aren’t interchangeable.”

  Pain flashed in Connie’s eyes and was gone as quickly. “Like Caleb, Colt is a good man. There aren’t that many of those, who are single and in the right age bracket, in this town. I’m surprised you haven’t thrown your hat in the ring for him.” Connie’s eyes slid up and down Allison’s body. “But I guess there’s sense in knowing when you’re beat.”

  Allison shook her head and reached behind her for a bag of food. “I hope you find some of that sense, Connie. I really do.”

  The brunette snatched the bag and marched to the register to pay, leaving the restaurant without a backward glance.

  Allison pursed her lips, turned to face Sadie. “Cat got your tongue? Why didn’t you stick up for yourself?”