Chapter 8 #2
“Excuse me?” I ask, shifting the gallon of tea, causing him to take another step back.
He holds up his hands in surrender. “Listen, all I’m saying is that maybe if you just lightened up a bit, you’d see how this all has just been one big disaster from the beginning.”
“Yeah, for you.”
“Not intentionally.”
“Uh-huh. So then why were you chasing me around at your farm?”
His jaw grows tight. “I was not chasing you around. I was just trying to have a conversation. You’re the one who freaked out.”
“Well, pardon me for not wanting to be confronted by my attacker.”
He pinches his brow. “I was not attacking you. Yes, I should have knocked and introduced myself rather than peeking in your window. I get that. But for the love of God, I wasn’t trying to harm you.
Now I have a cut on my hand, a cut above my eye, and a bruised sternum that proves you’re the dangerous one. ”
“It’s called self-defense. Apparently I need it living out here in the woods.”
“Trust me, nothing will bother you out here.”
“Other than large farm owners looking to dominate.”
His expression falls. “The only time I ever dominate is in the bedroom.” He quirks his brow as if thinking about that.
“Well, and other things, like competition, but that’s beside the point.
I won’t intimidate you. That’s not who I am, and maybe we can, you know, try to get to know each other better. ”
“Absolutely not,” I say. “I know enough about you to know that we won’t have any pleasant interactions, so it’s best you just move on.”
“That’s not being fair. You barely know me.”
“I know that you peek in windows and lurk around coffee shops. That’s all I need to know. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to crochet.”
With that, I shut the door on him and set my iced tea down on the counter, only for him to knock on the door one more time.
Sighing, I open the door and say, “What?”
He holds up the broken bag and the can of pretzels and popcorn. “Is it fair to assume you’re uninterested in my peace offering?”
“Very fair,” I answer and then shut the door, a shiver pulsing through my spine.
Sheesh, the nerve of that man.
I reach for my phone and send a quick text to Uncle Dwight.
Betty: Atlas Maxheimer just stopped by. Tried to give me treats as a peace offering.
I stick the iced tea back in the fridge and then head up to the small loft in my cottage just as my phone dings with a response.
Uncle Dwight: Did you take it?
Betty: I’m no fool. Of course I didn’t.
Uncle Dwight: I raised you right.
Betty: You’re five years older than me. You did no such thing.
Uncle Dwight: Just let me have this moment. I love relishing in Maxheimer’s rejection.
Betty: Fine. You raised me right.
Uncle Dwight: Thank you.
Max
“Do I even want to hear it?” Cole asks as I walk up to him with two cups of coffee I grabbed from the employee lounge. I wasn’t in the mood to head into town and see Tanya. Not after last night’s failure.
“No, you don’t.” I hand him a cup and take a seat on a wooden stool to watch my friend prepare the reindeers’ breakfast.
I tried helping him once, and he said that I was not helping, I was causing him irritation, and if he wanted help, he would ask for it.
Talk about ungrateful.
So now, I just sit and watch, sometimes loving the moment where he struggles, knowing my help would make life a little bit easier on him.
He leans against a barn pole and sips his coffee.
“Isn’t that the pole you tied Storee up against?” I ask.
“Yup,” he answers, leaving it at that.
“You know, I might take a picture of that pole, put it in a frame, and give it to you for Christmas along with a pineapple-flavored candy cane.”
“It would be the best present you’ve ever given me,” he answers with a smirk.
Did you see it? Did you see that little moment of levity? He drops the Grinch act only for mentions of the girls in his life. For me? Not so much.
“Consider it done.” I sip my coffee and lean my head against the barn wall. “Things are not—”
“Atlas?” Kate’s voice sounds off in the barn as she peeks her head past the door.
“Hey, Kate, what’s up?”
Glancing behind her, she says, “She’s here again, but this time with a notebook.”
I spring from my chair. “No, the fuck she’s not,” I grind out in outrage.
“She is.”
I turn to Cole and point at him. “She’s trying to ruin my life.” Then I take off toward the barn entrance. “Where is she?”
“The tree shack. Mitch is watching the register for me so I could come tell you.”
“Thank you. I’m about to catch this mole and exterminate her.”
“Dude, lame,” Cole says.
“I thought it was clever.”
“Nah, that was embarrassing.”
I turn to Kate to look for her opinion, and she slightly winces. “It had a bit of a cheese factor to it.”
“Can’t catch a goddamn break,” I mutter as I move past Kate out of the barn and toward the tree shack, where I burst through the door and see her over by the tree catalogs, just browsing.
One hand holding my coffee, the other in my pocket, wanting to show her I’m not a threat, I walk up to her and say, “Can I help you?”
She startles and looks over her shoulder. She’s a jumpy one, that’s for sure.
And is that . . . is that lavender perfume I smell?
Fucking delightful.
“Why are you sniffing?” she asks, breaking my thoughts.
“What? I’m not sniffing.”
“Yes, you are. I know what sniffing looks like, and you’re clearly trying to sniff me.”
Narrator: She’s got you there, man.
Thankfully, I’m a quick motherfucker.
“Why the hell would I want to sniff you? I got a good whiff last night, and I was unimpressed. Smelled like a moldy pirate’s belt if you ask me.
” Her face contorts in confusion. Yeah, not sure where that description came from either.
“If you want to know, I have a touch of the sniffles and didn’t want to present myself with snot. ”
She eyes me suspiciously and then turns back around, continuing to flip through the pages of the catalog.
Growing very irritated with this woman, I say, “Like I asked before, is there anything I can possibly help you with?”
“You? No.”
Do not lose it on her, Atlas.
Keep it together.
Remember, you’re in your place of business.
Taking a calming breath, I ask, “Well, it seems like you might need help, given how many times you’ve been here. Maybe I can help you find what you’re looking for, so I don’t have to see you here again.”
She turns and crosses her arms over her chest. That camel-colored jacket’s tight around her waist but slightly large over her shoulders, making it seem like she’s wearing shoulder pads. “Do you treat all your customers like this?”
“Do you treat all your competition like this?” I ask, unable to hold back any longer.
A smile creeps over her face. “You see me as competition?”
“I see you as encroaching on someone’s space, which is not allowed in this town.”
“So I’ve heard, but since the property isn’t in town limits, those rules don’t apply to me.” She turns around and takes a picture of the catalog with her phone’s camera.
“Hey,” I say, slapping my hand on the page. “Don’t do that.”
“Do you not allow pictures in your establishment?”
“I don’t allow people trying to copy my family’s business to take pictures. Seriously, what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“Trying to improve the business you created by not making the same mistakes.”
“Mistakes,” I nearly roar but then lower my voice as I lean in. “I can’t imagine how a business that’s been running for over thirty years has been making mistakes. Maybe show a little respect to the establishments that have created this town where you want to do business.”
For the briefest of moments, I see a flash of regret register on her features. It’s brief, but it’s there. Just enough for me to realize that she is in fact not the devil incarnate. Pretty close, but not quite all the way committed to playing the role.
Head held high, she says, “I think I have everything I need anyway.”
“Wonderful. I’ll see you out.”
“Not necessary,” she says as she walks by me.
“Oh, it’s completely necessary.” I follow close behind her.
I see her waver, wanting to go farther into the farm where families are posing in front of one of the many tree murals painted on our buildings. But then she pauses.
I point in the opposite direction. “Exit is that way.”
“Are you kicking me out?”
“I’m asking you never to return.”
She folds her arms and juts out her hip. “Are you really that scared that I might take business from you?”
Yes.
Terrified.
I don’t do well with competition and confrontation put together when it comes to business.
Goofy contests, no problem, but when it involves my family’s livelihood, not so much.
I’ve had a stomachache since the moment I heard about her.
And last night, I could only have one gingerbread cookie instead of two. That’s saying something.
“No,” I answer, trying to play it cool. “But I think it’s awfully rude of you to think that you can replicate an already established business.
You might be getting away with it with your coordinates and such, but I will tell you this.
There’s something in this town you don’t have, and it’s loyalty.
It’s also something your weird uncle doesn’t have either.
The minute you start your plans, this town will rally behind us.
It will be like the Shop around the Corner meets Fox Books all over again, but in the end, we will prevail. ”
“What are you talking about?” she asks, looking confused.
“Uh, from You’ve Got Mail.”
“Never seen it.”
“What?” I shout, feeling my eyes pop out. “You’ve never seen You’ve Got Mail? Well, Jesus.” I scratch the top of my head. “That explains a lot about you. Did you know that it was inspired by The Shop Around the Corner, a classic Christmas film with James Stewart?”
“Why would I know that?”
“Might be something you want to freshen up on since you’ll be living in a year-round Christmas town, trying to sell Christmas to everyone who stops by your wannabe farm.
It’s one thing to create a business. It’s a whole other thing to try to sell an experience, and that’s the difference between a successful business and one that crashes and burns after the first year. ”
My words quickly erase the smarmy look on her face, and in its place is an almost . . . distraught look, like I said something that struck a nerve.
“I . . . I need to go,” she says, pushing past me.
Unsure of what just happened, I say, “Yeah, uh, that’s right. You have to go. And I better not find you here again. You hear me?”
When she doesn’t look back, my brain wants to tell me that I did it, that I scared her away, but my heart is telling me that this very well might be the beginning.