CHAPTER ELEVEN
JJ—
Dasher’s Diner is on the corner of Main and Chestnut. I back the bike to the curb in an open spot, and we climb off.
“Wow. They didn’t waste any time,” Rebecca says, studying the bucket truck and crew stringing lights and garland across Main Street.
“They never do.” I hold the door for her, and we walk inside.
The aroma of freshly baked apple pie hits me the minute we cross the threshold.
Brenda Lee is singing Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree on the jukebox.
The place is fairly quiet, with only a few tables taken.
We get a booth by the window, and two plastic coated menus are slid before us.
“Welcome to Dasher’s. What can I get you to drink?” The middle-aged waitress has a big smile and elf ears on her head. I find it hard to keep a straight face while I give her my order. When she retreats, I look at Rebecca, and we both grin.
“What kind of hairstyle was that?” I ask.
“A beehive. I think they were popular a hundred years ago.”
She’s exaggerating, but not by much. Not only is her hair stacked and teased high on her head, but she’s got a bad red dye job, but the kicker is the ton of makeup she’s wearing and the cat-eyed glasses with the beaded cord that leads from them and around her neck.
“Don’t be mean,” Rebecca hisses.
“Oh, you missed the best part.” I lift my chin and stare at the woman’s feet where she stands at another table.
When Rebecca spots the felt elf shoes curled at the toes, she claps a hand over her mouth and averts her face to the window.
“Maybe you should get some of those,” I suggest. “You’d look cute as hell dressed as an elf.”
“Bite your tongue.”
Our waitress soon returns with our drinks. “You new in town?”
“No,” Rebecca replies. “We own Holly Jolly Tree Farm.”
“No kidding. Jim Anderson’s old place? He used to come in here all the time.
” She nods toward the counter, where a couple of old men sit.
“Sat right over there with those two. Every Wednesday and Sunday.” She cocks her head, studying me, then snaps her fingers.
“You’re the grandson, aren’t you? I remember you used to come up back in the day. I’m Shirley.”
“JJ,” I say, then nod to Rebecca. “This is my sister-in-law, Rebecca.”
“So, the place is going to be open this year, huh?” she asks.
“That’s the plan,” I reply. “Is the manager or owner in?”
“You’re lookin’ at her, doll. What can I do for you?”
At that moment, Rebecca takes over. “We were hoping maybe we could work a deal with you?”
“A deal? What kind?”
“We’d supply you with a gorgeous fresh Christmas tree and set it up, and in exchange, we only ask you to put one of our sandwich-board signs next to it advertising our hours and such, letting people know that’s where the tree came from.”
“Oh, I see. A little advertising swap.”
“Exactly.”
In the background, the music changes to Elvis singing Blue Christmas.
“We have a white artificial tree in that corner by the jukebox.”
“Oh, but just think how wonderful a fresh pine tree will smell.”
“I suppose. Maybe we could squeeze one in by the cash register.”
“That would be perfect. Can we bring one out next Monday?”
“Sure, but make it before the lunch rush. We get busy after that.”
“Wonderful, and thank you so much,” Rebecca gushes. “Shirley, do you happen to know when they set up the Christmas market over across from the courthouse?”
“Oh, they’ve already started. It won’t open until next weekend, but the vendors are already busy unloading.”
“Thank you.”
Once she’s gone, Rebecca leans across the table. “We should go talk to them. See if we can get anyone else to put our tree and sign out.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“You know what else? I thought maybe we could find a vendor who sells ornaments who could sell some at a kiosk up at the farm. After all, Christmas trees and ornaments are a match made in heaven. They go together like peanut butter and jelly.”
“Here I thought you were going to say peanut butter and chocolate.”
She giggles. “That too.”
I like seeing her face light up. Glancing out the window, I notice a food truck roll past. He’s probably going to set up at the Christmas market. “Hey, you think we could get a food truck to come up and sell food? That would take some work off our shoulders.”
“It would also take all our profit.”
“Maybe we could cut a deal for half.”
“Maybe.” She glances at her phone. “I really need to get in touch with the photographer I lined up to do the video of us for social media.” She taps out a text, and our food arrives.
We dig in, and Rebecca moans around her first bite. “Oh my God. That is so good.”
Her phone dings with a response, and she glances at it. “She wants to know if she can swing by and see the place today. Get an idea for what we want.”
I glance at the time. “When works for her?”
Rebecca shoots off another text and gets an immediate response. “Three o’clock. That gives us a couple of hours to walk the market and talk to vendors. We should be able to get back by then, right?”
“Yeah. Tell her that works.”
We work the market vendors, having success with many, and Rebecca even finds someone who makes ornaments and agrees to meet tomorrow to help her design an exclusive ornament for the tree farm.
We head back and arrive just before the photographer pulls up the drive.
She climbs out of her car with a camera in tow, and we meet her in front of the house.
Rebecca extends her hand. “I’m Rebecca Reardon. I’m so glad you could fit us into your schedule. This is my brother-in-law, JJ.”
“Hello. I’m Phoebe Snow.”
I shake her hand. “Thanks for coming.”
“It’s beautiful up here. Mind if I look around? I like to wander and get a feel for it.”
“Want me to take you around?” I offer.
“I’d rather walk the area alone, if you don’t mind. It helps me think.”
“Of course,” Rebecca says. “We’ll be inside. Come on in when you’re ready.”
She’s out there a long time, and Rebecca busies herself making coffee and setting out cookies.
I stand at the window with my hands on my hips. “What is that goofball dog doing now?”
Rebecca comes to join me. We see him sitting in the bed of the red pickup truck getting lots of attention from Phoebe. Then she brings her camera up and takes a few shots of Buddy. That’s what I’ve started calling him.
“Do you think he’s bothering her?” Rebecca asks.
“She seems okay with it.”
We watch as she opens the driver door and peers inside, then pats her leg, apparently calling Buddy. She gets him to jump onto the seat, then rolls the window down, closes the door, and takes some shots.
Rebecca and I glance at each other, and I shrug.
A few minutes later, Phoebe comes up to the house, Buddy in tow.
“Your dog is a sweetie,” she says, stepping inside, and Buddy trails in behind her and plops down on the braided rug in front of the fire like it’s his spot.
“Yeah, he is,” I agree. I’m not going to tell her he’s a stray.
“So, what do you think?”
“I found several places we can shoot. Of course, we’ll focus on the two of you out in the rows of trees, then maybe JJ carrying a tree over his shoulder, the two of you laughing and smiling.
Maybe a shot of you both sipping hot chocolate by the bonfire, and end it with a shot of you and the dog by the truck. How’s that sound?”
“It sounds awesome. You can edit that all together for us?” I ask.
“It’s part of the package. Plus, I’ll get you some stills. Oh, that reminds me, check out this shot of your dog.” She holds her camera up, and we lean in to look at the viewfinder. “Isn’t he adorable?”
Rebecca and I stare at each other.
I grin. “That’s what’s been missing from our logo. The dog.”