Chapter 2
TWO
The door to the trailer banged open and a rush of cold air filled the small space, but it did little to pull Pete Cameron from his thoughts.
“Just sold a Douglas fir to a lady who insisted it was a spruce!”
Pete looked up from the table where he sat reviewing an email that had arrived that morning and blinked at his cousin, who was beaming with obvious pride.
“I’m sorry, what was that?” he asked distractedly.
Mike shook his head as he refilled his thermos with coffee. “You still have your nose buried in that computer? We just got our first sale of the day.”
And they’d need about fifty more if they expected to turn the business around, Pete thought but refrained from saying out loud. Mike was younger than him by a few years, eager to be part of the business, and way too close to his mother for his own good. Any hint of trouble would travel back to Timber Valley, Wisconsin by this evening, and then Pete’s own mother would be calling him in a panic, which was exactly what Pete wanted to avoid. It was half the reason he’d offered to show Mike the ropes of selling firsthand at a lot. Normally, Pete was back on the farm, managing the day-to-day operations. But he couldn’t face his mother right now. Heck, it was hard enough facing Mike.
He minimized the email from the bank before his cousin grew curious and then walked over to the coffeepot in the kitchenette. Empty, aside from a few grounds floating in some murky dregs.
He gave Mike a pointed look, and then his thermos, but his cousin was happily sipping his coffee, basking in the experience of having sold a tree.
Pete checked his watch and stifled a groan. It was nearly lunch time. And they’d just made their first sale.
It was early days, he told himself, even as the voice he couldn’t ignore reminded him, like it did every year, that the holiday season was short. There were two, maybe three weeks a year when people bought a fresh tree from the farm, and the work Pete did the other eleven months of the year was all for this small window of opportunity.
This was what he’d been waiting for, for months. Income. Relief.
So far, neither showed any signs of making an appearance.
Fighting off panic, he said, “Why don’t you take a break and go grab us something to eat? I’ll cover the lot.”
“What will it be?” Mike was all too happy for the task. “I saw a sushi place down the street. Or pizza? I could go for a deep-dish—”
“Something cheap, Mike,” Pete said, growing impatient. “The city’s expensive and sushi would pretty much eat into all our profits.”
Or any of them.
“Eat into our profits.” Mike chuckled. “You’re funny, cuz.”
Was he? He certainly hadn’t meant to be, and he certainly wasn’t amused. Pete couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed, not straight from the gut the way he used to do, back when…Well, no sense in looking back. Not when they had trees to sell. Not when the month of December was ticking by, like the Advent calendar he used to love to open as a kid, back when each morning felt full of possibility instead of dread.
He grabbed his coat from the hook on the wall and opened the door of the trailer they’d parked next to the vacant out-parcel building that now served as a holiday shop, complete with mistletoe and garland and all the usual tree trimmings and decorations. Evergreens of all shapes and sizes filled his view, but even this couldn’t distract him from the knowledge that he wasn’t up on the farm in Wisconsin. He was in the city. Chicago, to be exact. And he couldn’t wait to get out.
Sixteen more days, he told himself. Sixteen more days and Christmas would be here, this lot would be stripped out, and this city, and every memory it brought to the surface, would be in the past.
But Cameron Farms might also be in the past, he realized uneasily. They had until December 31 to pay off the loan, or they’d lose the house. His family house. His mother’s house. And every memory that was kept behind its four walls.
“Hottie at two o’clock,” Mike said, already walking over to a pretty brunette who was studying a Scots Pine.
Pete watched in amusement as his cousin began chatting up the poor young woman by heartily offering to not only help her pick out a tree, but deliver and set it up, free of charge, of course. In other words, things that usually came with a fee. And one they needed. Badly. As he listened to his cousin recite the list of merits of each variety they carried, he could only shake his head. Let one of them have a little fun this Christmas. God knew he wouldn’t be finding any.
“I’ll grab us that lunch!” he called to Mike, who gave him a discreet nod before turning back to the woman who was laughing politely.
No doubt Mike was telling the joke about the reindeer again. He’d been using that one since they were teenagers, still awkwardly trying to flirt with girls at the local mall, and doing a poor job of it, too.
So long as it resulted in a sale, Pete supposed he couldn’t exactly suggest that Mike find another pickup line. And when it came to the romance department, he was the last person who should be doling out advice.
Pete marched out of the lot, coming to a stop at the corner of the intersection. Shops lined both sides of the street, their awnings blowing in the wind, and up ahead the ‘L’ train rumbled across the elevated tracks. Diagonal from the lot was a big-name coffee chain and, on the opposite corner, sat a smaller café with a discreet wrought iron sign. Floor-to-ceiling windows were edged with lights, and from this distance, he could see a few people sitting near the window.
It was just the kind of understated place he preferred. He’d never been one for those fancy drinks with long, specific names he couldn’t get quite right. Strong black coffee would suit him just fine, and maybe a bowl of soup or chili. Mike, he knew, would prefer a burger, but Pete wasn’t up for exploring the neighborhood today. His mind was busy, and he had that twist in his gut every time he thought about the latest letter from the bank.
He didn’t wait for the walk sign to appear before darting his eyes to the empty street and jogging across the slick pavement. The front door of the café was large, with a glass-paned window and a big brass handle. A wreath bounced in the wind when he opened the door to let a woman and her toddler pass by him and onto the snowy sidewalk. He ducked into the small room, appreciating the warmth, and inhaled sharply, feeling momentarily distracted from his troubles. The smell of roasted coffee beans filled the air, mixed with something else—nutmeg maybe, or cinnamon. At the display case, baskets of baked goods were neatly arranged, each offering more delicious than the next. Not the place he would find a sandwich, he realized, but a thick slice of that quiche would certainly do.
Christmas music bleated over a speaker—something a little jazzier and trendier than the family- friendly offerings playing over at the lot—and a rope of garland edged the counter. No line. No one seemed to be working, either.
He was just turning to go when he saw the kitchen door swing open and a cascade of ash blond hair appeared, making his pulse skip.
“Sorry, can I—” The woman stopped tying her apron and stared at him, all color in her cheeks fading as quickly as her smile. Her big, gray eyes blinked a few times, and at first, Pete wasn’t even sure she would say anything.
That maybe she would turn and run. Because that’s what he wanted to do.
Instead, Hailey’s voice came out in a breath of disbelief mixed with certainty. “Pete?”
His mouth felt dry as the room went completely still. All these years later, she still looked the same, even though she was no longer the college girl that he’d dated. Loved. He stared at her as time seemed to slow and a hundred memories he’d tried to bury flooded to the surface. Memories of walking hand in hand through the crunchy autumn leaves, the smell of her shampoo when he held her close, the sound of her laugh, soft in his ear.
He knew he needed to say something, that he couldn’t stand here staring at her forever, even though there was a time and place when he could have done just that. She was looking at him with those round eyes made even bigger by the shock, he was sure, and even in the silence, it was like a million words were spoken between them.
“Hailey. I—” He swallowed hard, unsure of the appropriate thing to say to the woman who had broken his heart eight years ago. The realization that they were strangers now saddened him nearly as much as the knowledge that he’d lost the right to ask anything about her life. That he didn’t know if she was married or had children. If she ever thought of him. If they’d ever meant anything. If she wished her life had turned out differently because he did some days. Most days.
“Hello,” he finally said.
Her expression was blank. Unreadable. Once there was a time when he knew every thought. Every emotion. Every hope. Every dream.
But then, that was a long time ago.
Her hair fell at her shoulders in soft waves, just like it had all those years ago. She wore a cream-colored turtleneck, soft and form-fitting, accentuating every curve he knew by heart. But it was her eyes that undid him, and made his chest pull with longing for a time and place he could never go back to, no matter how often he wished he could.
“What brings you to Chicago?” she asked, until realization seemed to hit her, making her face pale. “Wait. Is that your tree lot across the street?”
Of all the corners. They could have taken the spot down in the West Loop. Or the one over near the zoo. But his gut had told him the one right here was the best choice, tucked onto a busy shopping street in the middle of a family-friendly residential neighborhood, right near the ‘L’ stop where commuters would be returning from work each day .
His gut had never failed him. Until now.
“That it is,” he said, managing something of a smile. “I’m running the farm now, actually.”
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “A promotion then!”
“More like an inheritance,” he corrected. He hesitated. Months had passed, but it was still hard to form the words, to hear them aloud. “My dad passed away over the summer.”
Hailey’s face immediately fell and damn it if her eyes didn’t begin to shine. “Oh. Oh, no. I’m so sorry to hear that.” She blinked quickly and looked down at her hands. Long thin fingers interlaced. Piano hands, he’d always chided, knowing she couldn’t play, that she’d quit lessons when she was eight and had lived to regret it.
“It’s okay,” he said with a dry mouth, only because that’s what he was used to saying by now. He studied her face in concern, a little caught off guard by the intensity of her reaction. She’d always gotten along well with his dad. She was one of the only people who would sit down and play chess with him in that dark study off the kitchen. Pete could still remember the way his father would have the board all set up in anticipation of her visits, the way Pete stifled his impatience, wanting to slip upstairs with her instead.
Pete looked down at his shoes now, suddenly wishing he’d feigned interest in the game. Sat across from the old man just a few times. Humored him. Instead, he’d always made excuses, found more important things to do.
Things that weren’t important at all, in the end .
He cleared his aching throat, reminding himself of why he was here. That he had a reason to be in this city, on this street.
He might have turned his back on his dad when it came to chess, but he wouldn’t turn his back on the family business. He never had.
“And your family?” Pete asked, eager to change the subject.
“Oh, they’re still in St. Louis. My cousin lives here, though,” Hailey said. “Claire?”
He nodded. Of course he remembered Claire. He remembered everything about Hailey. You didn’t forget your first love.
Your only love.
“She’s engaged now,” Hailey went on, her voice still a little breathless. “To a man from Wisconsin, actually.”
“Small world,” Pete said, feeling himself stiffen a little. His living there was still a sore spot between them, even now after all this time. A reminder of a choice. A path not taken.
And a love lost.
“Yes, I suppose.” Hailey stared at him, and Pete knew that they weren’t talking about her cousin anymore. They were talking about today. About right now.
“Business going well?” he asked, sweeping his gaze over the room. It was different than what she’d described to him all those years ago, but then he supposed it was a fit for the neighborhood. A college-aged girl near the window sat hunched over a laptop while a man in the corner sat sipping a coffee. It was quiet, but then it was lunchtime. He imagined this place was crawling with customers every morning.
That she’d done it. Opened a storefront. Made it a success. The way she always hoped and dreamed.
That it was worth it to her.
“Oh, very well,” Hailey said, but she struggled to meet his eye and her smile was a notch brighter than natural. “And for you? How’s the family business?”
“Never better,” Pete said tightly. And it would be if he had anything to do with it.
“So, I guess we both made the right choice, then,” Hailey said, her eyes turning a little flat.
His gaze bored through hers, and he fought the urge to correct her, to set things straight. He couldn’t nod, couldn’t murmur his agreement. The way he saw it, there was no choice about it. His father hadn’t left him with one. Neither had Hailey.
“Well, I should get back to the lot.” But even as he said it, he couldn’t bring himself to back up from the counter. It was a small world. Too small in many ways. And today the universe had thrown him a curve ball.
“You in town for long?” Hailey asked, leaning a hip against the counter, and Pete refused to detect any interest in her tone, any insinuation behind the question other than a simple pleasantry
“Just until Christmas Eve.”
She nodded once. “Of course. Wouldn’t expect you to stick around any longer than you had to.”
He narrowed his eyes, detecting a hint of bitterness in her tone. “What’s that supposed to mean? ”
“Just that the city isn’t your thing.” She shrugged, but her chin jutted. A tell. One that meant she was mad, even now, after all this time.
“I never said the city wasn’t my thing,” he replied evenly, feeling his temper stir as the memory of that horrible day flooded back. Hell, he’d been prepared to live anywhere, and he would have if it meant a life with her.
The same couldn’t be said for Hailey, though.
She tipped her head, and he noticed that her face had gone white as her eyes darkened with hurt. “Then maybe I just wasn’t your thing,” she said crisply.
He took a step forward and lowered his voice. “Hey, I was the one who was ready to commit. You were the one who had to put your dreams before me.”
“And what about your dreams?” she asked, her voice softer.
Without stopping to pause, he grinned and said, “I’m living it.”
It was a lie, a flat-out lie, but he’d be damned if he’d let her see it any more than he’d admit it to himself. Anger coursed through his blood, bringing back all that pain, all the rejection, and he backed away from the counter, no longer wanting to linger, but this time, eager to leave.
A bell jingled, turning his attention to the door, where an elderly woman was struggling against the wind. He walked over to assist her and then hovered on the mat, torn between leaving or staying, and choosing, as he had the last time they’d met, to follow his head and do the rational thing. “I’ll see you, Hailey.”
She didn’t reply, and he tried not to care. He hoped he wouldn’t see her again almost as much as he hoped that he would. That somehow, someday, there would be a way to right the wrongs, that she would do something, anything, that would take away this ache in his chest when he thought back to that time in his life when everything felt bright and possible, compared to now, when it all felt so bleak.
Mike was fluffing branches when Pete crossed the street, his mind still reeling from the interaction as he struggled to believe it had even happened at all. Hailey Wells. The girl he’d known inside out. The girl he’d loved with all his heart. Who could make him laugh, make him smile, make him feel things he’d never felt again.
And maybe never would.
“Got the digits,” Mike said, grinning like a little boy on Christmas morning. “And the sale.”
“Good for you,” Pete said, pushing past him to the trailer. He stomped the snow off his boots and slammed the door, without a look back at the city, or the girl who’d left him for it.
“Hey, what about lunch?” He heard Mike call out as he turned on his computer and stared at the screen, wondering for not the first time if he’d made the right choice all those years back when he’d given up the only girl he’d ever loved for a failing tree farm.