Chapter Twenty-one
Thursday afternoon, Tucker walked through his house one more time, fussing over stupid things like the angle of his recliner in front of the television.
Just stop.
We’re not even going to be watching television.
You’ve got this.
But for all the self-talk, he still found himself going to a lot of trouble for a woman who would be leaving town soon. And not only going home, but to Richmond, which was nowhere he had any desire to spend time.
It’s fun. She’s nice. What’s the harm?
She and Natalie were best friends, and Natalie was the widow of his best friend. They should be friends.
Between making sauce and chopping fresh herbs for the lasagna, he rolled over the same thoughts in an internal battle most of the day. He hadn’t met anyone quite as smart and entertaining as Sheila in a long time. She was easy to be around, and he liked that.
The savory aromas from the kitchen filled the house, and he’d even made dessert, although it wasn’t often anyone had room for it after eating his lasagna.
All that was left was to pick up Sheila.
But it was way too early for that.
He pulled on his jacket and headed over to GG’s Mountainside Garden & Gifts on Main Street.
It was chilly, but it would be colder soon with the sun beginning to dip behind the mountains. Walking up the hill to Main Street from his house was always a welcome workout. He made the new recruits do it ten times a day while they were in training.
At the top of the ridge, he turned and walked up Main Street.
“Hey, Chief,” Tommy called out from the gas pumps across the street.
Tucker waved and crossed the street toward him. The little store next to the gas station had been an empty eyesore until Greta and Gary, a couple from Norfolk, decided to retire to Chestnut Ridge. They bought the dilapidated concrete block building from the city for next to nothing and poured in a pile of money to get it up to code and turn it into the welcoming retailer it was today.
Locals were hesitant about them coming in and setting up shop on Main Street, but the sweet elderly couple had captured their hearts. Gary was one of those guys who could engineer anything and always volunteered to help with projects, and Greta could work miracles with plants and flowers. The building was now painted a sunny orange, and they’d allowed the senior art students of Chestnut Ridge High to paint a mural on the side of it representing the history of the town, with a horse and carriage as it might have been back in the 1900s, huge chestnut trees, and mountain laurel in full bloom.
Tucker pulled the creaking wooden door open and walked inside. The peppery scent of evergreens mixed with the fragrance of paperwhites and amaryllis in funky colored wax balls that lined the counter. Foil-wrapped potted plants and shiny pottery with extravagant ribbon bows filled a rack, ready for gift-giving.
Greta rounded the corner wearing a bright red apron decorated like a Santa suit with white trim, a shiny black belt, and a gold buckle. “Tucker? Merry Christmas.” She swept her hands together. “What do I owe the pleasure?”
“Looks pretty in here, all decorated for the holidays.”
“Thank you.” She looked around. “It does, doesn’t it? Gary was moaning and groaning about how much time I spent decorating the tree in the front window since I’m doing one for the Christmas Tree Stroll too, but I told him… every person in this town will enjoy it at some point. Can’t go anywhere if you don’t stop next door for gas, right?”
“That is true.”
“I saw your team at the high school last night. They were working like acrobats trying to decorate that huge thing. They had one gal up on Homer’s shoulders, putting a bulldozer between the top branches. He’s lucky she didn’t drop that metal monster right on top of Homer’s head!”
“You’re right. As hardheaded as Homer is, he might have dented it, and that’s going to be some kid’s Christmas present this year.”
“What a great idea.”
“I thought so. I can’t wait to see what the tree topper looks like. I’m trying to stay out of it and let them run with it this year, which isn’t easy for me.”
“I know. You’re so competitive. If you don’t win a trophy, you’ll be kicking yourself, though. But don’t worry. I’m rooting for you.” She giggled until she snorted. “Get it. Rooted. Plants?”
He grimaced. “I got it.” She was known for her silly puns and that laugh. The unapologetic snort could be incredibly annoying on someone else, but it was entertaining coming from her. “You’re right, but if we don’t win I guess it’ll just be because it’s someone else’s turn to take home the prize. I’m practicing being a good sport.” He thought about Natalie, Amanda, and Sheila’s tree. It would be nice for them to win. Sheila would really get a kick out of that.
“I know you dig hanging out with me and my buds,” she said, with a wink and a nod to a bucket of rosebuds, “but what did you really stop in for?”
He shook his head at the second gardening pun.
“Oh, I have to ask about you and that woman you were with last night. Let’s be mistletoe-tally honest here, Tucker. Y’all looked like you were more than just friends racing up the bleachers.”
“You saw that?”
“I did. Oh, quit your blushing. You deserve some fun. All you do is work. You’re going to waste the best years of your life alone. You should share them with someone.”
Tucker bristled, unprepared for the teasing. “How much do I owe you for the therapy session?”
“On the green house. So can I sell you some mistletoe? Seriously, that was a hint. I have some.”
“No. I don’t need mistletoe to get a kiss. Do you ever run out of those jokes?”
“Never. Ask Gary. He’s heard them all.” Her graying hair bounced across her shoulder as she shifted her weight. “At least twice.”
“I’m just looking for something kind of simple. Nice, but not overly romantic. You know, more like for friends.”
“All you want is friendship with that pretty woman?” She folded her arms. “Seriously, Tucker. Get with the program here.”
“She goes back to the city after the holidays. It’s just dinner between friends, and I want it to be special, but not assuming. No pressure. You know what I mean.”
“Whatever you say.” She raised her hand in a wave as she turned and led him to the back of the store. “I’m not here to judge.”
That’s not stopping you from preaching on about it. But he really didn’t mind.
“I’ve got all kinds of great holiday live plants. It makes it nice because they last. Amaryllis, poinsettia—”
“Everyone does that. I wanted something kind of different.”
“The paperwhites are gorgeous. They can be a little fragile, but if you mix a one-to-seven vodka-water drink to give it a little nip each day, those things will stand up nice and straight. Probably do the same to that gal too.” She ran her hand across her nose, laughing. “Or, I’ve got these bundles of Fa La La La Lavender. Grew them myself. And check out this Christmas ribbon. Is it not absolutely gorgeous?”
He thought about Sheila’s reference to lavender in her sheets.
“I think I’ll steer clear of the vodka tip and take the Fa La La La Lavender.” Then he pointed to the ribbon. “Not the fancy ribbon, though. I like the one with the hand-drawn snowmen and snowflakes on it.”
“Excellent choice. Fun and not too fancy.” She shuffled through the bound lavender until she was satisfied with one and then took it to the counter.
Greta pulled a shiny pair of scissors from her apron pocket and snipped the edges of each stem of lavender. The aroma lifted into the air as she pulled a green rubber band around the bunch, and then in one fluid movement, as graceful as a bird, she tugged a length of ribbon across a yardstick screwed to the table and cut it to length. In just a moment, she’d tied a flowing bow with long sweeping tails, each one with a V as sharp and slender as the tail of a barn swallow.
“What do you think?” She eyed it carefully, then turned and smiled. “I like it.”
“I do too. Thank you.”
She walked him over to the register and rang it up for him. “Need a bag to skulk back to your house covertly? Wouldn’t want people thinking you might be interested in someone. Like we aren’t already.”
“That would be nice.”
She pulled out a plastic bag, then tucked it back in the drawer in favor of a paper bag with handles. “This will do better. You don’t want to crush my pretty bow.”
“That is the best part,” he said.
“Thank you, Tucker.” She tucked the flowers into the bag. “You might share with her that she can grow some of her own lavender by gently shaking the seeds from the dried flowers and planting them.”
“Merry Christmas, Greta.” He walked out of GG’s with the bag. Every few steps, the fragrance from the lavender would waft up around him. Thank goodness I didn’t drive. My truck would smell like this for a week.
Five minutes before he was supposed to leave to get Sheila, he still hadn’t decided which shirt to wear. Don’t look too dressed up. Don’t look like I don’t care. Finally, he opted for the Christmas sweater that the team gave him a couple of years ago. It was definitely a winning ugly-Christmas-sweater candidate, but it seemed playful and fun, and that was really all he wanted to convey.
He looked at himself in the mirror. It’s too horrible to be misconstrued as trying too hard. This will work.
Walking to his truck with the bag from GG’s, he wondered why he was making this so difficult. It took literally three minutes to drive around the corner to the Mountain Creek Inn to pick up Sheila.
As promised, she was sitting on the front porch waiting for him.
He wondered if she’d struggled over what to wear.
She stood and waved. In a bright red sweater to the hips and black leggings, she looked ready for anything.
He met her halfway up the sidewalk and handed her the bag. “Thought you might want to put these inside.”
She cocked her head. “What’d you bring me?” She took the bag and looked inside. “Lavender. Thank you, that was so sweet.”
“And better than in tea.”
“Don’t you worry. I’m going to go put these in my room. I’ll sleep like a baby tonight.” She pulled the bunch all the way out of the bag and gave it a big sniff before rushing inside.
As soon as she hit the stairs to her room, Orene walked outside. “Brownie points.” She gave Tucker a slow nod. “Very nice touch.”
He looked away.
Sheila came back carrying a covered dish, and Orene scooted back inside.
“Ready?” Sheila asked.
“Definitely,” Tucker said, hoping to get out of there before Orene grilled him.
“Y’all have fun,” Orene called after them with an impish grin.
“I’m so glad you brought me the lavender. I was focused on being on the porch waiting for you and almost totally forgot to bring the salad.”
“Oh, well, everything happens for a reason, I suppose.” He took the covered dish from her. “You look very nice.”
“I’d like to say the same thing.” She started laughing. “But I don’t think I can. That sweater is horrible. Can I borrow it for my office party next year?”
“What would I wear?” He acted hurt. “You mean you weren’t going to invite me?”
“Good point.” She headed to the truck, but he beat her to the door and held it while she got in.
“You’re guaranteed to win if you wear that,” she said.
“I do like to win.” He tugged on the fake tie that was knitted into the neckline. “Shall we?”
She was still shaking her head when he got behind the wheel.
Two turns and then into the driveway. She turned and looked at him blankly. “Seriously? I could have walked here in the time it took you to drive to get me and bring me here.”
“I told you. See. Win-win. You’re still in complete control of when you leave.”
“I definitely am.” She got out. “This is not the kind of house I expected you to live in. Was it in your family?”
“No. Mom and Dad lived high up on the mountain in Pine Creek. No one in my family ever lived in a house like this. Growing up, we lived in a modest ranch with a view that went on for miles. It was really quiet, which was nice, but it was kind of sheltering too. Maybe that’s why Chestnut Ridge was so appealing, because of the close-knit community.”
“Maybe?”
“I wanted to live close to the firehouse too. When this old beauty came on the market, I pounced on it.”
“When was she built?”
“Nineteen ten.”
She took in the well-preserved Georgian home, reflective of that era. “You give Orene’s porch a run for its money.”
“Yeah, her porch is great. When I was a little boy, my uncle would take me to visit Orene. I used to dream about her house. I thought it was the prettiest house in the world.”
“Probably why this one caught your attention. Similar in style. Probably built about the same time.”
“Yeah, only hers has always been well kept. By the time I got my hands on this one, it had been empty for years. It lacked attention, and sort of fell apart.”
“I know how that is,” she mumbled.
He heard her, but he didn’t acknowledge the remark.
“The epitome of Southern refinement. I feel underdressed,” she said, as he ushered her in through the antique seeded-glass-paned front door and into the grand foyer. She looked up. “Even the fixtures are in period. Well done, Tucker.”
“Thank you. I take that as quite a compliment from someone who sells homes for a living.”
“This is outstanding. The way you furnished it minimally, leaving the grandeur of the intricate moldings and textures of the natural marble, granite, wood, and fabrics to shine through, is really well done.”
“Not sure that was my intention, but now that you say it, I guess it does. The kitchen is my favorite.” He led her that way.
“I can smell that lasagna.” She moaned. “If it’s half as good as it smells, I am in for a treat.”
He went through the tall doorway with the transom window above it. “Prepare to be treated.”
She could see why the kitchen was his favorite room in the house. A kitchen should be the heart of the home, and you could feel the beat in this one. “This is like something out of Southern Living. ” She stopped and turned to him. “You are a complex character, Tucker.”
Filled with pride that she liked it so much, he smiled. The kitchen was all his favorite things from those Southern Living magazines his mother had pored over through the years. From the Sub-Zero fridge, and the old-style gas range with the pot filler and double ovens, to the two-drawer dishwasher, which was perfect for a guy who didn’t dirty many dishes each week.
Sheila set the salad dish on the counter, next to where he’d set out plates and silverware.
He pulled the huge pan of lasagna out of the oven. “Sorry, but everything I cook is enough for everyone at the firehouse.”
“Don’t apologize to me, but I’d be willing to bet you had two pieces in your freezer you could’ve thawed rather than make a whole new one for me.”
“That would be true, but I wouldn’t have impressed you.”
“I don’t know. That’s the good thing about Italian food,” she said. “It’s always even better reheated.”
“I’ll be sure to send you home with a doggy bag.” He pulled a bottle of red wine from the wine rack. “Care for wine with dinner?”
“Yes, please.”
“This is from a local vineyard. I like it. Not sure what you’ll think.”
“I’m sure it will be fine.”
He uncorked the bottle, poured two glasses, and then lifted his glass to her. “I’m glad you came to Chestnut Ridge for Christmas.”
“Me too.” Sheila took a sip from her glass. “This is very good.”
“I’m glad you like it. Maybe sometime when you come to visit Natalie, we can all go to the vineyard. They have a nice wine tasting and tours in the spring. In the summer it’s too muggy to enjoy. The owners are friends of mine. Shyam and Sarah. They just got married. They’re terrific. I’ll introduce you.”
“They sound great, and I’ll add touring the vineyard this spring to my list. That sounds like fun.”
“Are you ready to eat?”
“I am.”
They served themselves and took their plates over to the large table. They ate dinner, sharing stories about their pasts between cheesy bites of lasagna.
“I’m so glad you already promised me a doggy bag, because I want to eat this every day for a week. It’s so good.”
Tucker craved more of her easy enthusiasm and confidence. I could picture myself eating these leftovers with this woman every day in every week.