Chapter 32 Tree-mendous Fun
tree-mendous fun
Ivar
The annual Winterwood Tree Hunt was one of those events the whole town turned out for. Except Ivar. He’d always found an excuse to skip it, though he didn’t mind helping later when it came time to haul the chosen tree back to the square. Participating, though? That had never been his thing.
But this year was different. Having Holly by his side changed that.
From their spot in the crowd, he watched Emma climb onto a pickup bed, clipboard in hand, her red hat bobbing like a cherry against the gray sky.
“All right, folks!” she called from above the crowd, her voice carrying easily over the chatter.
“This year, we’re shaking things up. No more same-old teams. You’ll be paired at random! ”
A chorus of groans rolled through the crowd, followed by laughter.
“That’s right,” Emma went on. “It’s time to make new friends—or new enemies, depending on who steals the saw.”
Beside him, Tess elbowed his arm. “You just don’t want to get paired with me. I cut trees like they owe me money.”
“Remind me not to run up my bar tab,” Eli said dryly from behind her.
Tess grinned. “You got that right.”
Names were drawn from Emma’s basket, with each pair met with cheers or mock groans. “Eli Brennan and Tess Callahan!” Emma read. “Try not to burn down the forest, you two.”
“Can’t make promises!” Tess called back.
Next came “Marty Callahan and George Keating!”
George tipped his cap. “I’ll keep him from writing poetry about the tree, don’t worry.”
Laughter rippled through the crowd, but when Emma’s grin turned mischievous, Ivar’s stomach sank.
“Next up…” she said, milking the moment, “Ivar Nilsen and—” she paused, her voice full of mischief—“Chad Hale!”
Ivar and Chad exchanged polite smiles.
“I thought Rowan and I were judges,” Chad said.
“Like I said,” Emma replied, “we’re changing things up this year. Holly Kringle and Rowan Hale are judges.”
Ivar gently nudged Holly. “Judge now, eh?”
“I’ll have you know that this is far from my first Christmas tree judging contest, so I’m bringing a wealth of knowledge and experience to this event.”
They both laughed, but he’d noticed something missing from their banter today, like she was distracted.
She’d opened up so much in the last few days, laughing more, trading playful texts, but today she seemed quieter.
Granted, the protection of the Yule Tree was important, but he could feel her stress, and there was something else.
Holly tapped his arm, then pointed to Chad.
He muttered something under his breath to Rowan. The man was not happy about this, but to his credit, he was willing to go along with it.
Emma clapped her hands. “All right, everyone. Teams ready? Remember, we’re looking for the town tree. We need something tall, symmetrical, and full of Christmas spirit. And no cutting yet! Just mark your finds with the red ribbon.”
“Good luck, Ranger,” Holly said, reaching up and placing a kiss on his cheek. The brush of her lips against his skin sent a ripple through him, like sunlight spreading across frozen water. The warmth she left behind burned faintly, as though her magic had marked him.
“You have 15 minutes, starting… now!”
Ivar joined Chad and directed him into the forest. They were on the outskirts of town, so it was quiet, with just the hush of wind through pine needles, and the faint creak of the snow underfoot.
To Ivar, it was heaven on earth. Chad clearly didn’t share that opinion.
Though he kept a measured pace, his posture was stiff, like he was so tightly wound, the slightest thing would set him off.
“You do this every year?” Chad asked, breathing hard.
“The town does, yes,” Ivar said. “I usually help with the cutting and the transportation.”
“So they paired me with a rookie?”
“I am the park ranger, so I do know my way around the forest.”
They trudged deeper. The air had that crisp, resinous smell that made Ivar’s lungs ache in the best way. He took a deep breath, feeling grounded, happy, home.
Chad grew even quieter.
“You don’t like the forest much, do you?” Ivar asked.
“No, not really. I prefer the city. It’s alive and energetic.”
“Most people think the forest is still. It’s not. It’s alive. You just have to listen.”
“Alive?” Chad sounded almost panicked. “You mean the trees and animals, right?”
“Well, of course it’s alive. Otherwise, the trees would be dead, but what I mean is…
” He paused. What did he mean? “You have to think about the entire ecosystem. Everything has its role, and everything works together. It’s not about trees, or plants, or animals.
It’s what they create together, the forest as a whole. ”
“You’re pretty philosophical for a park ranger.”
“Apparently I am.”
Chad walked ahead, Ivar following in his footsteps.
He started feeling a bit off. With each step, the air grew heavier, the light dimmer.
The forest blurred, reshaping itself. A boy ran ahead of him now.
He was bundled in a blue coat, his laughter sharp against the cold air.
Snow sprayed beneath his boots as he ran, oblivious of the ledge ahead.
If he didn't stop, he'd run right off the edge.
“Look out,” Ivar yelled as loud as he could. The boy turned, fear in his eyes.
Ivar stopped short, heart pounding. The image flickered, dissolving into mist. The boy was gone. Only Chad stood there, staring at him.
With the same eyes.
A realization tugged at the edge of Ivar’s mind, and while it was too strange to believe, he couldn't dismiss it. He'd just seen a memory.
“You okay?” Chad asked.
“Yeah. Fine. Let’s look around here.”
Chad went to the left, Ivar to the right. With Chad out of sight, he ducked behind a tree. The image of the boy still lingered. What was going on?
He bent forward, hands on knees, drawing deep breaths until the world steadied again. Focus. He thought of his cabin by the pond, Al curled up by the fire, and the steady rhythm of the woods. He thought of Holly, her laughter, her courage, the way she looked when light caught her hair.
And then, unbidden, came the thought of a tree. The perfect tree for a Kringle. For Holly. It was tall, balanced, and aglow with life. A Christmas tree worthy of her.
When he opened his eyes, the forest felt different. Brighter somehow, even though the sun had set.
“Ivar,” Chad called. He was close. In fact, he was on the other side of the tree Ivar had ducked behind. “Check it out. I think I found the tree.”
He turned slowly. There, right beside him, stood a spruce unlike the rest. Perfectly shaped, its branches dusted in snow that seemed to shimmer faintly.
He walked around the tree, standing beside Chad.
“It’s perfect,” Chad said. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Me neither.” Except he had. Only seconds ago, in his mind.
They both knew this would be the winning tree.
Ivar pulled a length of red ribbon from his pocket and tied it to the tree’s lowest branch, just as the timing whistle sounded signaling the end of the contest.
For a brief moment, Ivar thought he saw a faint glow pulse through the bark—subtle, like the embers of a campfire. When he blinked, it was gone.
***
The teams were laughing and enjoying cookies courtesy of the Maple Mug while they waited for the judging.
When Holly spotted Ivar, her eyes lit up, making Ivar’s heart thud loudly. The memory of that kiss warmed his cheek all over again.
“We’ve made our decision,” she told him.
“I know we won,” he leaned in and whispered. “Thanks to you. Another bit of Santa magic?”
She didn’t reply. She didn’t have to. Her face said it all.
“You didn’t…?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No. Wasn’t me.”
“But it’s so perfect. Too perfect.” He turned toward her fully now, searching for answers.
Holly reached out and took his hands.
Before he could speak, Liv and Rowan appeared, cheeks flushed, laughing and glowing from either too much cider or George’s special hot chocolate. Liv looped her arm through Holly’s with a grin. “I’m stealing your girl, Ivar. We’ve got a date with the hot tub.”
Holly squeezed his hands once more, her eyes steady. “Trust me,” she mouthed before being swept into the crowd.
Snow lifted in her wake, swirling in a small spiral that danced around his boots before settling again.
Ivar stood still, his palms tingling where she’d touched him. Beneath the snow, the hum deepened. It was no longer a mystery, but a question.
To which his heart answered: Yes. He absolutely trusted her.
***
The tree looked even bigger strapped to the flatbed than it had standing proudly in the clearing.
“This is going to be a pain to unload,” Chad muttered, arms crossed, surveying the majestic pine.
Ivar smirked. Chad, despite his complaining, was more relaxed than Ivar had ever seen him. Their plan was working. They’d managed somehow to crack his carefully built cynicism. “I didn’t hear you complaining when you won.”
“I didn’t realize I’d signed up for… this.” Chad waved his arms at the back of the truck. “Where’s your sister anyway? Isn’t she in charge of this festival?”
“She and Holly took Rowan to soak in the inn’s hot tub. You, however, have been volunteered.”
Chad muttered something under his breath that Ivar chose not to decode.
They’d barely backed the truck into the designated spot when a crew of townsfolk descended—cheerful, mittened, full of brewery-fueled enthusiasm.
“Here comes our hero!” Emma declared.
Chad blinked. “Is she talking about me?”
“Yeah.” Ivar handed him a pair of gloves. “Try to enjoy it. You earned this weird parade.”
As the tree was carefully raised into place, with strings of lights and cheerful commentary, Chad didn’t retreat. He didn’t grimace much and even laughed when a kid asked if the star should be ‘eco-certified.’
And Ivar noticed the way Chad smiled more around the town’s Maple Mug proprietor.
“You good?” Ivar asked once the tree stood tall, glowing from a thousand lights.
Chad hesitated, hands in his coat pockets. “It wasn’t the worst day I’ve ever had. This last bit was surprisingly fun. What is it about this place?”
“Winterwood will have that effect on you,” Ivar said. “Now, to the Sugarhouse.” He noted the confusion on Chad’s face. “It’s a brewery.”
“Now that’s more like it,” Chad said.
The warm lights of the brewery spilled across the snow. Inside, Tess and Marty had cleared space for the ad hoc tree crew, and someone shoved a craft brew into Chad’s hand before he could protest.
“To Chad,” someone toasted. “Savior of the town’s Christmas aesthetic!”
Chad shook his head, amused. “That’s a stretch.”
Ivar clinked his glass against Chad’s. “It’s the best tree we’ve had in years. Take the win.”
They slid into a booth, the scent of pine sap clinging to their jackets. Ivar watched Chad take it all in—Emma laughing in the corner, Marty handing out samples of a new mulled beer blend, Eli, a born storyteller, sharing tales around the fire.
For the first time, he saw it reach him.
This wasn’t just a town. It was a home. A place that made space for people. Even unlikely ones. People like Chad.
People like him.