The house loomed over us. “It’s kind of shocking.” I pointed to the house next door, set farther back from the road. “Who needs a four-car garage?”
“Boats? ATVs? Lots of people have extra storage garages up here.”
Derp. Of course, he was right. But I could dwell on my obvious ignorance about sprawling homes in the borderlands on my own time. “Listen, thank you so much for bringing the tree here. I’m sure I would have gotten lost.” He probably expected a tip. I only had ten bucks cash on me. Ten bucks tip wasn’t horrible, right? I rummaged through my purse. “Here.” I handed him the crisp bill.
He leaned against the back of the truck, an unreadable grin on his face. “How about you keep your ten spot. I can still take this tree off your hands. There’s a big box store down the road who sells trees.”
“You drove all the way to Stu—to my family’s house.” Ugh. Still couldn’t get used to saying that. “Why are you trying to convince me to give up the tree?”
“Are you hosting a party?”
“What? My brother’s coming in from Seattle.”
“So, you, your brother, and your parents, and this magnificent pine?”
“This pine is magnificent. My…family is going to love it.”
He crossed his arms, scrutinizing the house. “Step family?”
“Something like that.” Screamingly obvious. Petulant Twenty-Something Avoids New Step-Dad at Christmas — next on Your Basic Millennial Stereotype. “We always had an artificial tree. This year my mom asked for a real tree and tasked me with bringing it. It’s our first Christmas here.”
Unless Mom bought out the ornament section at Target, I had no idea what else we could put on the tree. Our childhood ornaments would barely cover half of this thing.
Nick didn’t say anything and we both sort of stood there looking at the house. I would need to go inside eventually.
“Did you know Crystal Cove was named the number two holiday destination in the state, second only to Chicago?” Nick suddenly asked.
“By what, Small Town Quarterly magazine?”
He named a major travel publication. Double derp.
“You said you grew up with a fake tree. What happened to it?”
“I…I don’t know.” I didn’t know what happened to any of our old stuff. Mom had threatened Derek and me to pack our old bedrooms and the garage or our remaining stuff would land in a giant rented Dumpster. Eventually, she’d told us the movers put it all in the moving truck and we could sort our boxes later. Whether she’d done the same for Dad’s things, well, I didn’t know. Because I hadn’t asked.
I looked up to find Nick watching me. I sensed pity in his eyes and hated it. Whatever mess I’d made of the years after Dad, I didn’t need Nick’s sympathy.
The front door to the house opened. “Megan. I didn’t hear you drive in.” Mom ducked back inside and reappeared wearing a heavy cardigan. “I had headphones in doing my daily meditations.”
Wow, retirement had done one over on her. Not in a bad way just…different.
Mom stepped with care down the shoveled front walk in slippers with firm soles. “You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone. Hello.”
“He’s not—”
“I’m Nick.” He held a hand out to her.
She beamed with all the wattage of Crystal Cove’s downtown holiday scene.
“He’s helping me with the tree. From Sawyer’s.” Mom didn’t need to know I ended up in a ditch or the likelihood I needed four new tires with no funds to cover it.
“You’re a Sawyer boy?” Mom asked. “How delightful.”
Nick looked over at me, and I telegraphed AGREE in bold font.
“I’m not a Sawyer. I’m a Bennington.”
I pelted him with non-verbal exclamations. How could you!
“Bennington.” Mom blinked rapidly. “Mayor Bennington’s son? Oh, dear, how is your family?”
“My mom, she’s holding up well,” Nick answered. “Really putting up a fight. Dad is hanging in there in his own way.”
What was happening? Mayor? My mom knew his family after a measly, however-many months living here?
Mom focused on Nick. “I didn’t know you helped at the tree farm. What a great way to serve the community.” She peered over the truck bed. “That’s quite a tree.”
“Isn’t it great?” I circled behind Nick and unlatched the rear door. Branches shot forward like a pine-filled trap set free.
Mom jerked back. “Oh, dear.”
Nick adjusted the branches so they appeared more contained. Slightly. “If you think the tree is too large, I can drive this one back and find you a smaller one.”
I stepped in front of him. “This one is perfect. It goes in the two-story window, right Mom?”
“Well…”
The front door opened again. Stu strolled out in a zip-up thermal, dark jeans, and work boots. If you looked up Retiree, examples of online, you’d see Stu’s picture. Ruddy-skinned with salt and pepper hair. He was the guy who enjoyed a steak and potatoes dinner and a Sunday ride on a pontoon boat. “Nick Bennington. Well, look at you. Helping out at the Sawyer farm this year?”
“Stu?” Nick looked from Stu to me, from me to Stu. “Your stepdad is Stu Krueger?”
Small towns turned out to be barrels of fun. Brimming-full barrels. “Looks like it.”
Stu pulled Nick into a one-armed hug. Any second now they’d take up arm wrestling. “Woo, this here is a fine tree. And big.” Stu turned to me, thankfully sparing me a physical greeting. “Megan, good to see you. Ah, what’s that? Looks like you’ve got a nail in your nose.”
“Ha-ha,” I spoke the laugh. “Just a nose ring.”
At least he liked the tree. Hopefully, it would grow on Mom, too. If the tree made her happy, then the hassle of bringing it here…well, I could figure out if it was worth it once we made our way inside.
When I didn’t respond, Stu moved his attention to the truck bed. “Thanks for picking this up.”
I opened my mouth to say No big deal, even though it had turned into a bit of a deal. Only Stu wasn’t talking to me. He was talking to Nick. I pressed my lips together suppressing an outburst. I bought the tree. With all my cash and tips, thankyouverymuch.
Nick smiled like a crazed politician (or her son). “Are you sure? It’s a big tree. If you’re intent on keeping it...”
I swore Nick’s neck hairs stood on end. The air charged with subtext rich enough for a literary novel.
Stu tugged on a tree branch, perhaps testing its strength. “Of course, we’re keeping it. We may keep it through Valentine’s.” He winked at my mother.
Nick didn’t want us to have the tree. A curious situation. His insistence in wanting this tree for himself was curious indeed.
Nick had secrets.
“Little help carrying it inside?” Stu asked Nick.
Nick avoided looking at me. “Sure.” He slid the tree halfway off the truck bed, then crouched and hoisted the unruly pine up and out with near expertise. I almost believed he worked at Sawyer’s and I’d made that part up.
As the guys hauled the tree into the house, Mom hugged me. “I’m so glad you’re here. I know it was a sacrifice for you.”
Sacrifice sounded too strong a word until I remembered all the shifts I promised to cover. “I’m glad to be here too. You must be freezing.” I grabbed my bags from the car, noting how wholeheartedly the snow pile accepted its newly parked guest. At least here, parking was free.
Mom held open the door to the house for me. “Nick comes from a great family. Mayor Bennington is making our little town so special. We’re the number two holiday destination in the state.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Our little town” used to be a town sixty miles south of here. Crystal Cove didn’t belong to me. And I wasn’t sure I belonged here.
Inside, the house smelled like a forest. Looked like one too, with the foyer covered in green branches.
No matter. “This t
ree is awesome. I love it, don’t you?”
“It sure is…awesome.” Mom’s tone said Campbell Can-do at full force. Making do with the situation.
Stu parted a few middle branches and shined a mini flashlight at the trunk, mumbling to himself like an amateur arborist. “A strong tree. This’ll last awhile if we keep her watered.”
I got the feeling Stu didn’t decorate much.
Mom clasped her hands. “We don’t have a tree stand. That old fake tree didn’t spark the joy it used to, so I Marie Kondo-ed it right out.”
Who was this woman? My mother, not Marie Kondo.
“I can pick one up for you.” Nick, standing smack-dab in the center of things, seemed to have a solution for everything.
“No, I’ll get the stand.” He’d likely come back with a smaller tree and weasel Stu into a trade.
“Won’t your tires slip on the icy roads?” Nick looked at me and deliberately glanced to my mom.
“You didn’t have trouble driving here, did you?” Mom’s Worry-Mode had activated.
Nick shot my mom a look of measured concern. “Coming into town, the roads are slick. Megan had a little trouble on the road. That’s how I found her.”
Mom gasped. “Oh, Megan, are you okay? Did you go into a ditch? Stu, did you hear? Megan went into the ditch. And, Nick, you found her?”
I cast Nick a stony look. Me in a ditch was not his business to share. “I’m fine, Mom. Yes, Nick helped me.” I wasn’t sure why he was here, explaining it all. “And thank you. For the ditch rescue.”
Nick grinned. “My pleasure.”
“We can’t ask you to do anything more,” Mom said to Nick. “Stu can pick up what we need for the tree.”
I raised my hand for emphasis. “I am perfectly capable of finding a tree stand.” Something I should have considered when I bought the tree. I could fix this. I still had my coat on. “I’ll go.”
I excused myself, walked out the door, and marched over to my car. A little bit of GPS and some gumption, and Merry Christmas to all of us.
The engine revved, but the car stayed put. Ugh, the snow bank. I’d need a shovel.
Knocking sounded on my window. Again, really? I would power down the window, but the window didn’t work when it was cold. “I’m a little stuck is all,” I said through the glass. Sigh. Fine. I got out.
Mom and Stu huddled together behind Nick. Mom nosed forward. “Megan, your car looks dented.”
Great. Exactly what I needed.
Stu knelt by the rear tire. “These are awfully worn. Best we change the tires out. I can take your car into the shop tomorrow.”
“The tires are fine.” Even as I said it, the lie tasted sharp. I looked at my car. Dirty, damaged, and kicking its feet up into snowbank like it deserved a vacation. The car was stuck. Like a metaphor for my life.
Nick looked at me with a slightly apologetic expression. “My truck has winter tires. It’s a straight shot to the home improvement store—easy trip, I don’t mind. Maybe Megan can come along? Help me to pick out what you need.”
Oh, my mother loved this. She was winking at me through her excitement. Writing the fanfic herself.
“Me? At a home improvement store?” My arsenal of apartment remedies were limited to batteries, a hammer, and duct tape.
“I promise, I’ll make this up to you,” Nick said to me in a low tone.
Stu handed him a few crisp bills. “Keep the rest for gas and your time.”
Nick accepted the money. “Sure thing.” He turned his attention to me. “Ready?”
I nodded, reluctantly. To be honest, I was mostly curious why this Nick Bennington made me any sort of promise at all.
Chapter 4
Nick
Once in my truck with Megan, I knew I needed to give her an explanation.
She clicked in and spun to look at me. “You’re the mayor’s son?”
I sighed. “I am.”
“How do you know my mom?”
“I don’t. My family’s in the local news a lot. It’s an active community. Stu I’ve known forever.”
“You’re not telling me something. Why do you want my tree?”
The way she called it her tree made me smile. Time to come clean. “So, I messed up. The Sawyers save a tree for the mayoral benefit and I didn’t pick it up in time. The tree is supposed to go in the historic mayor’s mansion ballroom for the charity party. Which I also need to plan. For Christmas Eve.”
Megan blinked at me. “You said need to plan. Does that mean you haven’t started?”
“The planning was started.” My defenses kicked in, but the truth lay bare as the ballroom I’d failed to decorate. “The mayor’s office started the planning. They handle the guest list and catering.”
“But trusted you for the tree.”
For some reason. “The mayor is supposed to hand-select the tree and the decorations. Seemed easy enough.” I even sounded like a loser saying it. The task was easy and I still failed. “This year, it’s, she couldn’t. I told my parents I’d help and now…I’m in over my head.”
“Your mom is sick?”
My throat tightened. “Cancer. She’s doing okay, but her treatment and appointments take a lot of time, so my dad is a little overwhelmed. The doctor said she needs to rest more than she is. The town wants her to stay in the job. Like I said, I wanted to help. I didn’t realize how much work this benefit involved.”
She absorbed what I said. “My dad was sick too. Different disease, but it took his life. I understand how an illness can affect a family.”
“I’m sorry.” So, that explained the awkward family vibes. I backed out of the drive and turned the opposite direction we’d driven in.
“What you’re saying is, I took the tree meant for the charity event.”
“Yes.”
She pressed a hand to her forehead. “Yikes.”
“I could have taken your tree and left your car in the ditch,” I added. “Turns out, I’m not Scrooge McGrinchy Satan-pants.”
She pursed her lips. I wanted to grin again, but grinning would absolutely make her mad.
She turned in her seat to face me more fully. “You tried to convince me I bought too big a tree. The truth is, you planned poorly and didn’t pick up your tree in time.”
“Well—” She had me there. “Yeah, I did.”
“Things happen to work out for you, don’t they? Generally speaking.”
I shrugged. “I suppose.”
“You assumed without any planning or foresight, you’d put together a charity event in a couple days.”
Heat crawled up my neck. “It’s not that bad. I’m sure things will work out. Like you said.” I flashed her my reliable Bennington charm.
A scowl hurled back at me. “That is so pretentious and privileged.” She turned her head, looking out her window.
I wanted to argue our family wasn’t part of some corrupt political machine, but I doubted she meant that. Her accusation stung. She wasn’t wrong. I was used to not only getting my way, but having the time and freedom to figure things out. All but Mom’s cancer, which I absolutely couldn’t change. Now she and Dad needed me like they never had before.
And I’d been about to drop a bomb.
I’d planned on moving out of Crystal Cove. To finally start my own life.
Except…I couldn’t leave them. No way could I move to my own apartment, look for my own job apart from the family printing business, right when our lives could change forever.
“I thought you were country-bred, but you’re spoiled,” she said.
I couldn’t help laugh. “Country-bred? What’s that?”
She gestured out the window. “Fields. Corn. Cows. Look, there’s a barn.”
“We have the internet out here, you know. Netflix. HBO Max. Stores, and culture, and art.”
“Art?” She looked amused now. “What kind of art do you have in farm country?”
“There’s a shop in town with a local artists’ gallery. Paintings
and sculptures. Our community center hosts a judged art show every year.” The heat in my neck transferred to my face. “You know, for telling me I’m spoiled, you sound pretty stuck-up yourself.”
She let out a single ha. “I pay my own rent, own my car, my own phone—all of it, without help.”
“But you think anything beyond the city is trash. That’s so…basic.”
“I’m basic?” she blasted back. “I never said you were trash, to be clear. I grew up in the suburbs. I still have friends there.”
“Do you visit them?”
She scoffed. “I don’t need to explain myself to you. You’re doing a lot of judging right now.”
“Only because you judged me.”
“You tried to manipulate me to steal my tree. Because you’re a Fail Hard.”
I gripped the wheel and hit the brakes. We slowly stopped with plenty of feet to go to the stop sign. A fail hard. She pegged me that quickly. Never left home, took the family job, but still didn’t live up to even those lame standards.
We looked at each other, the tension thick as the ice coating the edges of the windshield.
“I wouldn’t be driving you if I didn’t feel a little bad about earlier,” I admitted. “The…manipulation. I’m sorry.”
“Fine.” She sank back into the seat. “I didn’t know the tree was meant for a charity event. I’d say sorry for buying it, but honestly the tree lot shouldn’t have sold it.”
“It’s not your fault.” I could only blame myself for assuming the Sawyers would keep the tree. And for assuming I’d plan the event in a handful of days. Here I was blaming a stranger for my own procrastination. A beautiful stranger, sitting so close, trusting me for some reason, to help her family holiday not suck with the perfect Christmas tree.
“You can have the tree—”
“Keep the tree—”
We stared at each other. A horn blared behind us. I hit the gas and headed past the stop sign through the intersection.
I cleared my throat. “Please, keep the tree. For your family. I’ll get one myself for the mayor’s benefit.”
A few beats passed. “Okay. Thank you.”
'Tis the Season for Love: A Charity Box Set Page 78
