Cozy Hometown Christmas, page 8
She’d almost finished the scarf the night before and was proud of her work. It turned out she was pretty fast at knitting. Sure, the piece wasn’t exactly straight, and there might be a hole or two, but she was still learning.
Kristen had gone to visit Ethan in his cabin at the back of the property. The tree farm was on more than a hundred acres, and the old cabin had been built into the more wooded part of the property by her husband’s great-grandfather. It was out of sight of the house, and getting to it took a little bit of a hike. Dorothy thought maybe Great-Gramps had built it so far away from the main house so he could have privacy—the late-1880s version of a man cave.
Dorothy was a little worried about her son. She wished he would get out more. She’d been worried about him since Jasmine had died. She could understand why he’d gone into a depression, as they’d been so young, but it had been several years now, and she was afraid Ethan was going to waste the rest of his life alone in that cabin.
Maybe now that Kristen was home, she could bring him out of his shell and get him to socialize more.
Out the back window, she could just barely see the rows of evergreens that they had planted and groomed for sale. Funny to think that those trees had been planted by Charlie. It took years to get them to the right size for selling, so they always had to plant new saplings to take the place of the trees they cut each year. She’d gone back there to check them out the previous day. It was true that the trees had a problem, but they didn’t look that bad. Hopefully, Ethan’s plan would work.
A zipping sound stole her attention from the window.
“George! Are you unzipping that?” She rushed over to the bag.
George blinked at her, an innocent look on his furry face. The bag toppled, and her project fell out. Son of a gun! George had figured out how to undo the zipper.
“Oh no, you are not going to unravel my project.” She picked up the bag and shoved it into an old pine hutch that had been her great-grandmother’s. “Come on, let’s go out and hang this holly.”
Dorothy opened the door, and George burst out onto the porch. Across the street, Kent was on his porch, hanging some glittery snowflakes. He glanced over and nodded at her, a slight smile on his lips. She did the same. She was glad that they were on friendly terms now. It was always nice to have good neighbors, even if he did overdo it with the porch decorations.
“Now, how to hang these?” She set the basket down on the wicker table between the two rockers.
She looked up at the trim on the eaves where Kent had showed her how to hang the lights. Dozens of nails and hooks remained from various things being hung throughout the decades. If she hung the sprigs there, they would be hidden by the trim boards. The best thing was to weave them into the wires on the strand of lights.
A cold breeze blew some snow onto the porch, and she shivered.
“Let’s get this over with so we can get inside by the fire,” she said to George, who had been watching her as if he knew what she was contemplating. He looked a little bit worried as she trudged down the steps, making deep footprints in the snow as she made her way toward the ladder resting against the side of the house.
She hauled the ladder over toward the porch. It was heavy, but she could do it. Even though Ethan had warned her to ask him for help next time she wanted to use it, she didn’t want to be dependent on anyone. She had to learn how to do these things for herself now.
Leaning the ladder against the porch, she pushed on it to make sure it was sturdy. Good enough. She grabbed the basket and headed up the rungs.
Tucking the sprigs in wasn’t as easy as it had looked. She had to balance the basket in the crook of her arm because she needed both hands. How should she space them out? If she positioned the ladder in the right places, she could put one directly at the spot where the ladder was then one each to the right and left if she could lean far enough. If she did that, she could minimize the amount of times she had to move the ladder.
The first one went in perfectly. She grabbed another sprig and leaned to the left…
Oh no! The ladder slowly started tilting.
Dorothy grabbed for the trim board to stop the ladder. The basket fell from her arm. Her fingers grazed the board but slipped off. She tried to grab the porch post, but she missed as the ladder jerked sideways. She jumped off in mid-fall and plopped into a shrub loaded with snow.
She must have sunk in a bit, because all she could see was snow-covered branches. She was cold! And wet! She flailed her arms and legs, trying to get a grip on something to pull herself up.
Someone pulled her out, and she brushed the snow off her face to see Kent standing there with a concerned expression.
“Are you okay?” He stood back and looked her over.
She took a mental inventory. Nothing hurt except maybe her pride. “I’m fine. I don’t know what happened.”
“Ladders can be tricky in the snow.”
Instead of being condescending, Kent was trying to let her off easy. Her thoughts toward him warmed even further.
“Thanks for pulling me out.”
“You could’ve asked me for help.”
“I want to be self-sufficient.”
Kent nodded. “I can see that. You’re doing a good job, and your porch really looks fantastic.”
Kent’s words made Dorothy feel proud.
His gaze swung from her porch to his. “Makes mine look a little… overdone.”
“It doesn’t look too bad.” Dorothy picked up the basket and started putting the holly back into it. “I might have gotten a little carried away too. I don’t really need the holly out here. I think I might have been trying to compete with all your decorations.”
“Not necessary. Yours looks perfect.” Kent looked thoughtful. “Maybe our kids are getting a little carried away, too, with that skating-pond contest.”
“Do you think so? Kristen does seem to be stressing over it.”
“Mason too. They might be taking it a little too seriously. I mean, I’d like the opportunity to decorate, but I don’t want to take it away from you. I know the tree farm has always done it.”
“You’re not exactly taking it away. It’s a contest, and the best design will win.”
Kent stood looking at the two porches for a bit. “I think the question is how does one decide what the best design is?”
Dorothy shivered again, as snow had gotten up her sleeves and inside her boots. She needed to get inside and in front of the fire. “I don’t know how that’s decided, but I think I need to get inside. Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?”
Chapter 16
Kristen had woken up feeling great even though she’d stayed out late with Mason at the skating pond the night before. She’d enjoyed the conversation and felt they could be friends despite the decorating competition. Too bad that was all they could ever be. It was for the best, though, as she wasn’t really ready to date anyone anyway, and she didn’t think a long-distance relationship would work for her.
Best to focus on family business. Her mom was doing well now, and it was time to work on Ethan, so she went to his cabin.
Ethan answered the door with a scowl that softened a tad when he saw it was her. He’d tried to scurry out and join her on the porch, but she’d anticipated that.
“I haven’t been in here in so long. Is it still the same?” She practically pushed her way inside, leaving him no choice but to let her in.
The log cabin was as cozy as Kristen remembered. The cedar walls gave the whole space a warm glow, and the wooden kitchen cabinets looked rustic, but the new granite Ethan must have had put in upgraded the look nicely. It was a typical bachelor pad with dishes in the sink and clothing strewn about, but the fire in the river-stone fireplace made it homey despite the clutter.
“Coffee?” Ethan grunted.
“I’d love a cup.” Kristen rearranged some of the laundry that was on the couch and sat down. “I forgot how homey it was in here.”
It could have been even homier. There were no family photographs, knickknacks, or anything personal.
She glanced at her brother. His brown hair was a little longer and shaggier than usual, and his beard needed a trim. At least the red-and-black-plaid flannel shirt and jeans he wore appeared clean if a bit threadbare.
“I hope you like it black. I don’t have any cream.” Ethan popped a K-cup into his Keurig.
At least he had that modern amenity. She’d half pictured him living back here in the woods like a hermit from the 1800s, cooking in the fireplace and doing his laundry in the river. Though maybe she wasn’t far off with the laundry, she thought as she glanced at the piles of clothes.
“Black is fine.” She did prefer cream but didn’t want to seem ungrateful. “So how come you didn’t go on the sleigh ride last night?”
Ethan screwed up his face and handed her the mug. “Why would I go there? Too many people.”
Kristen snorted. “You would hate it where I lived then.”
“That we can agree on. I never was much of a city guy.”
Memories of Ethan as a little boy bubbled up. He had always loved being in the woods. He’d practically lived outside and had learned at an early age how to identify all the plants and bugs, animals, and reptiles.
He was the one who had taught her how to catch bullfrogs and which plants to avoid. They’d spent hot summer days splashing their feet in the cool waters of the streams that ran through their property. Did Ethan even enjoy those simple pleasures anymore?
“Remember all the turtles we used to find in the pond?” Kristen said when a random memory of them catching painted turtles popped up.
That got a smile out of her brother. “Yep. There’s still a lot of them in there. The frogs too. You’ll hear them in the summer.”
Kristen’s smile widened. “I’m looking forward to that. And the fireflies and dragonflies. Do birds still nest in the eaves of the barn?” There was so much to look forward to about being home.
“They do. I’m glad you’re home, sis.” Ethan’s smile warmed Kristen’s heart. He truly meant it. “And Mom could sure use the help on the tree lot. Everyone knows I’m no good at talking to customers.”
“Speaking of which. Some people at the sleigh ride were wondering when we were going to put our trees out on the lot.”
Kristen studied her brother over the rim of her coffee mug. He’d never been a good liar, and she could see by the look on his face that the problem wasn’t as minimal as he’d been trying to make it out to be.
“It’s a little too early for that still.”
“Uh-huh. Are you just saying that so I won’t worry?” Kristen put her mug down on the coffee table, which was really just a slab of wood on concrete blocks. “I have a big stake in the success of the tree farm, you know. I’ve quit my job, and it’s all I’ve got.”
Ethan pressed his lips together and put his mug down on the counter. “Okay, there is something going on with the trees, like I’ve told you and Mom, but I am having a bit of trouble figuring it out. I think it’s that they’re not getting enough nutrients. Dad had trouble before too, but I tried his fix, and it didn’t work. I’m downplaying it to Mom because I don’t want her to worry, but if you want to see, I’d be happy to show you what’s going on.”
Kristen stood. That was the answer she had been looking for. It made her feel included, like an equal in the business. “I’d love to. Let’s go.”
They trudged through the snow toward the rows of trees. Kristen had hoped Ethan would show her the problem, so she’d worn heavy boots that went halfway up her calves. Lucky thing, because the snow was almost that deep in some places.
Ethan bent down to brush snow from the base of one of the trees. “I’ve put some burlap around the base here to try to keep the earth from freezing so the fertilizer can penetrate. Pines love acidic soil, so I modified Dad’s formula to include more sulfur. Oak leaves would work, but that would take too long for what we need right now.”
He stood and pinched off one of the smaller branches. “See, it’s brighter green toward the trunk but more dry on the edges. I think it might be working, but I need a few more weeks to be sure.”
“We don’t really have a few weeks, do we?” Kristen asked.
“Just barely. We usually don’t put the trees out till two weeks before Christmas, so we’ve got a little time. Even if we stock the lot about half a week late, I think everyone will understand.” Ethan walked among the trees as he talked, touching branches and looking at the needles. “The blue spruces seem to be doing much better, so we could put those out first. I don’t want you to worry about this. It’s going to work out. You’ll see.”
Kristen didn’t know anything about trees or fertilizer; that was something her father had not taught her. But she knew Ethan was smart, and he had the best interests of the farm at heart.
She had no reason not to trust him and not to believe that things would be okay. “Okay. I’ll keep my fingers crossed.”
Chapter 17
Mason was sitting at the dining room table, papers spread around in disarray as he worked on the design for the skating pond, when movement on the porch caught his eye. A fluffy cat was batting ornaments off of the silver-tinsel Christmas tree his father had just put up.
“Isn’t that the neighbor’s cat?” Mason asked.
His father squinted out the window. “Oh, yeah, it is.”
To Mason’s surprise, Kent opened the refrigerator, poured some milk into a saucer, and put it outside for the cat. Mason had expected his father to yell and shoo the cat away, but maybe small-town life was mellowing the old man. It was a good change. He’d much rather have his dad kind and happy than angry and grumpy like he had been the past few years.
“His name is George. Maybe you should take him back across the street. There’s wildlife in these woods, and I wouldn’t want anything to happen to him,” Kent said as they both watched the cat lapping up the milk.
“I guess I could use a break from working on these plans.” Mason stretched. He had to admit that the thought of seeing Kristen Woodward again wasn’t exactly unpleasant. He grabbed his jacket, scooped up the cat, and headed across the street.
Wait a minute. How did his dad know the cat’s name? He must have talked to the woman across the street. Kristen’s mom. Hopefully, she wouldn’t mind him ringing the bell. Since he had her cat under his arm, he was hoping for a pleasant reception.
A woman in her early sixties opened the door. She took one look at George, and her eyes widened.
“Oh my. What has he been up to?” She had a pleasant smile and a youthful demeanor, and Mason liked her right away.
“He was just visiting us across the street. My dad said he belonged to you.”
“George! Naughty boy.” She reached out for the cat, and her eyes drifted across the street.
Mason could have sworn she gave a little nod. He turned around and saw the curtain in the living room window moving. Had his father been watching?
But he didn’t have time to wonder too much about that, because the woman was pulling him inside. “Thank you so much for bringing him over. Please do come in. I just finished making some chocolate chip cookies. Would you have one and some hot cocoa?”
“Umm… sure.” The old farmhouse was welcoming and pleasant. It was steeped in family heirlooms. From the old threadbare rug to the pine hatch with its chipping paint, this was a home that had been lovingly lived in for generations.
“I’m Dorothy Woodward, by the way.” The woman, still holding the cat, led him down the hallway.
“Mason Hale.”
They followed the smell of fresh-baked cookies into the kitchen. The first thing Mason noticed was that Kristen wasn’t there. He was a little disappointed about that, but since the cookies smelled so good, his visit wouldn’t be a total loss. Plus he was happy to meet Dorothy, seeing as she was his father’s neighbor.
They sat at an old pine table with a plate loaded with chocolate chip and decorated sugar cookies and steaming mugs of hot cocoa. The hot cocoa even had marshmallows in it. Mason picked a chocolate chip cookie first. It was warm and gooey. Sitting there brought him back to the days when he was a kid and his mom would give him a snack after he’d been playing on a snowy day.
George busied himself batting around a catnip mouse.
The back door to the kitchen opened, letting in a waft of cold air. Kristen stepped in, stomping the snow from her boots. “Ethan says—” She glanced up, the sight of him at the table causing her to stop in mid-sentence. “Oh, hi.”
“Hi. Your cat was on my porch, and I brought him back over.” Mason hoped that didn’t sound as lame to Kristen as it had to him.
Kristen’s eyes drifted to George. “Oh. Thanks.”
Dorothy had already set another mug of cocoa down at the table. She gestured for Kristen to sit. “You must be freezing after being out there. Have some cocoa to warm you up.”
Kristen look as if she wasn’t sure if she wanted to sit, but she did.
She took a cookie and smiled at Mason. His heart did a little flip, and he bit off the head of the snowman-shaped cookie he’d just grabbed. The cookies were delicious, slightly vanilla and loaded with so much sugar they didn’t even need the thick coating of icing or the colored sugar crystals that crunched beneath his teeth.
They chewed in awkward silence for a few minutes while Mason tried to think up something clever to say. All he came up with was “Your decorations look really great.”
“Thank you.” Dorothy waved her hand around the room. “A lot of them are antiques from my husband’s ancestors.”
“They’re wonderful. My dad has some replicas in his store, but there’s nothing like the real original antiques,” Mason said.
Oops. Maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned the store. Did Dorothy and Kristen see it as competition? Dorothy didn’t look upset, but Kristen had a funny look on her face. He hoped it wasn’t the mention of Tinseltown that made her look that way. Last night at the skating pond, she hadn’t seemed that upset about his father’s store. In fact, he felt they’d bonded just a little. Had he ruined it?
