Chapter 3 #2
I hurry to the reindeer barn, bypassing a family tugging their sleds to the small kiddie hill we keep open for those who might want to participate in some sledding.
The farm is busy, and I’m glad we have a plethora of workers helping out, especially with bundling trees, because I have some important business to tend to.
I push open the barn door and then quickly shut it behind me. My best friend’s sweeping some spare hay that’s fallen to the ground, clearly in his element, not ready for my tornado of neurotic behavior.
Thirteen years ago, if you’d told me my best friend would be working at my family farm as the reindeer handler, I’d have told you you might want to check your crystal ball again, because Cole was supposed to go to college and get a degree in something that didn’t involve scooping up reindeer shit.
I don’t think his intentions were to stay in Kringle, but when he lost his parents on Christmas Eve, everything changed.
He became a recluse and stopped celebrating Christmas, and that’s when my dad stepped in and offered him a job.
I know it was to keep Cole busy and to give him something to do, but I also think it was because my dad wanted to keep a close eye on him.
My parents were friends with Cole’s parents, and I know losing them was just as much as a hit to them.
Twelve-ish years later, and Cole is still working the reindeer barn, but now it’s a little different because he brings his eldest daughter, Florence, in to help.
“Cole, we need to talk.”
On an exasperated exhale, he looks up from where he’s sweeping. “Dude, if this is about the invaders, I’m not fucking doing this today. I’m tired, and I want to get home so I can just hang out with my wife and daughters.”
“You know, it hurts that I’m no longer the person you strive to hang out with anymore.”
“Yeah, because you’re going on tangents about your parents disappearing and strangers trying to take over your farm.”
“I’m glad you brought that up,” I say as I walk up to him. “I was just talking to Kate over at the shack, and get this: there’s a woman lurking around, asking about vendors.”
He clutches his chest dramatically. “Oh no, not a woman. What ever shall we do?”
My expression falls. “You act just like my brothers, who by the way were not answering me on purpose just to be asses. But back to you. You don’t have to be so sarcastic all the time.”
“And like I said before, you don’t have to act like an idiot all the time.”
“I’m not acting like an idiot. I’m telling you, something’s going on. Something is—” I gasp. “Fuck, do you think my parents are setting this whole thing up, wanting to test me? See how I can handle the pressure of competition while they’re gone?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’d never do that to me.” He points to his chest. “They know damn well the way you’d react to such a thing, which would in turn affect me, like it’s affecting me right now.
So no, I don’t think they’d do that. They’d want you focused on taking care of the farm, not solving some obscure, irrelevant mystery about people you heard talking in the woods. ”
He has a point.
So we’ll scratch that off the list.
“Okay, so then who is the lady walking around asking about vendors? Hmm?”
“I don’t know. Probably someone visiting the farm, looking to buy some presents for people she knows. Having a list of vendors is helpful because you can have a general layout of what people are selling before going in and searching aimlessly.”
I scratch the side of my head. “Yeah, I guess I never thought about it that way.”
“Exactly, because your mind immediately jumps to the ridiculous. Seriously, Max, just chill, okay? Take care of the farm the way you know how, and when your parents get back, you can show them that you were able to handle everything on your own.”
“You’re right.” I blow out a heavy breath, even though in the back of my mind, I still have this niggling feeling like something is awry. “I’ll just focus on the farm.”
“Thank you. Now, get that dustpan and help me out.”
“As long as I can tell you about the woman I ran into in town this morning. I stole her harpoon and harmonica.”
Cole tilts his head to the side, irritation written all over his face. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Hunkering down, I say, “Listen to this . . .”
Betty
Sitting on a bench in the middle of Evergreen Farm, I take out my phone and snap a picture of the vendor setup, one of the pictures Uncle Dwight wanted me to take while here. I think that’s everything on the list other than the exit, which is the same as the entrance.
After we talked at the table this morning, Uncle Dwight went right into planning mode.
He said the first thing I needed to do was to take a look at Evergreen Farm.
I’ve never been, which is weird since I’ve visited Kringletown many times.
It’s just never been on the list. When I asked him if he was coming with me, he told me he had work to do, so I happily took his car and made the short trip over.
I was surprised to see how full the parking lot was when I pulled in.
Then when I entered, I realized why. It felt like I was stepping into a German market with gingerbread hanging from booths, the smell of freshly chopped-down trees permeating the air, and happy families skirting from one activity to the next while Christmas music gently played in the background.
Uncle Dwight wanted me to take my time, to take pictures of everything, and to take notes because he said he wants to make sure I have an idea of what he’s looking for in a business.
My only question is, why would we put up a business just like Evergreen Farm right next door?
I mean, surely it’s not good business practice to open a competing Christmas farm next to such a successful one, right?
I mean, yeah, there are some things that they could add here and there to make it more of that one-stop shop Uncle Dwight is looking for, but the businesses would still be very similar.
Something to ask him when I get back.
I stand and stuff my phone in my pocket.
I’m chilled and ready to sit in front of the fire and start planning my move.
Uncle Dwight said he has the perfect idea for my living arrangements, which he’s taking care of today, and he also said he would have movers bring all my stuff and my car so I wouldn’t have to worry about going back to Fort Collins and I can just focus on the new project. It almost sounds too good to be true.
I head toward the exit, a warm fire on my mind, just as I see a woman walk in my direction, holding a cute girl in her arms who just happens to drop her stuffed reindeer on the ground.
“Oops, you dropped this,” I say, picking up the reindeer and handing it over to the girl.
“Oh my gosh, thank you so much,” the woman says as her eyes meet mine. “It would not have been good if we lost that. Not sure who would be more upset, my daughter or my husband.”
I chuckle. “My money is on your daughter, but I don’t know your husband, so I don’t think I could make much of a judgment.”
“Ah, which means you aren’t from here.”
“I have family who lives here, but yeah, not quite a townie . . . yet.”
“Yet?” she asks. “Do you have plans to become one?”
“Well,” I say, about to divulge my life to a complete stranger. “I actually just accepted a job, and my stuff is being moved here as we speak.”
“Really?” the woman says and then switches the little girl to her other hip. “Let me be one of the first to welcome you. I’m Storee, and this is my daughter Florence. My other daughter, Evelyn, is with my aunt at home.”
“It’s very nice to meet you,” I say. “I’m Betty.”
“Betty, I love that name.”
“Thank you.”
“My husband is Cole Black. He takes care of the reindeer here on the farm. We live over on Whistler Lane, right across from the Dankworths.”
“The Dankworths. Aren’t they the ones who own Baubles and Wrappings?” I ask.
“Yup, that’s them.”
“Ah, on my run this morning, I knocked over that statue they have in front of the store.”
Storee cutely clutches her chest. “Dear God, and you’re still alive?”
“Apparently,” I say on a laugh.
“Shocking. They’re very protective of that statue.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“There you are,” a deep male voice calls out just as a tall dark figure steps in next to Storee. I watch in fascination as a very attractive man with the carved shoulders of a Greek god slides his arm around both Storee and Florence, and lightly presses kisses to their heads. “Get me out of here.”
Storee chuckles. “Atlas driving you nuts today?”
“You have no idea.” He takes Florence from Storee and then spots me. “Is Evelyn with your sister?”
“With Aunt Cindy.” Then Storee turns to me and says, “Look at me being rude. Cole, this is Betty. She’s new to town, just got a job here.”
“Hopefully not at Evergreen Farm,” he says.
“Stop that.” Storee elbows him. “You’ll scare her away.”
“Babe, you have no idea the kind of day I had. If she accepted a job here, she should run.”
I laugh and shake my head. “No, not a job here.”
“Glad to hear it.” He nods toward the parking lot. “I’ll load her up.”
“Okay, be right there,” Storee says, and then when he’s out of earshot, she continues. “Sorry about that. He’s a bit of a grump.”
“That’s okay. No need to apologize.”
“He does have a kind heart.”
“I believe it. From the way he looked at you and your daughter, I could see it.”
That makes Storee smile. “Thank you.” She looks toward the parking lot.
“Well, I should get going, but hopefully I will see you around town. Florence, Evelyn, and I are always out and about. I take them to Ornament Park almost every day if it’s not too chilly, just to let Florence run around as much as she wants.
Evelyn is only a few months old, so she enjoys the fresh air. ”
“Great. Maybe I’ll catch you out there.”
“Yes, and if you ever need a friend, you know where to find me. My sister lives here too, so feel free to search us out.”
“Thank you, that means a lot.”
“You’re welcome. And good luck with the new job.”
“I appreciate it.” I offer her a wave before she takes off.
Boy, she’s nice.
Everyone seems to be nice in this town.
That guy I ran into this morning, joking around as if we were long-lost best friends, and now Storee.
Maybe this whole situation will turn out better than I expected.