Soldier’s Fake Fiancée (Trinity Falls: Home for Christmas #3)
1. Quinn
1
QUINN
Q uinn Allen stepped out of the hardware store, enjoying the sound of the bells over the door jingling merrily as she headed out into the frosty air with her purchases.
It was only mid-November, but she was pretty sure she could taste snow on the air. And if the two toddler girls with their noses pressed to the glass of the toy store just up the street were any indication, it was already starting to feel a lot like Christmas.
As the twins’ mother watched them fondly, Quinn smiled at the sight, then felt a tiny twinge of guilt. She owed her own parents a visit, but it had just been so busy lately on the farm.
Up ahead, she spotted Ana from the clothing shop headed her way with a paper cup of coffee in her hand.
“Hey, Quinn,” Ana said when she got close.
“Hi, Ana,” Quinn replied with a smile.
Quinn had always been naturally shy, but she’d known Ana a while, and the other young woman was super nice and never expected more than a quick hello, so Quinn was always happy to see her.
“Feels like snow’s coming,” Ana said as they passed, her eyes sparkling like she couldn’t wait for the town to be covered in a blanket of white.
Of course, from Ana’s perspective there was nothing wrong with that feeling at all. When you worked in a dress shop, a little early snow probably just set the mood and reminded customers to come in to buy presents and get ready for their Christmas parties.
But Quinn didn’t work in a shop. She worked at a wholesale Christmas tree farm, and she had been given her first chance to run the operations on her own this year. Honestly, it was almost certainly her only chance, since the owners’ son was coming home from his military service and would probably want to take over. So it was more important than ever that everything ran smoothly.
Farming had been her dream since she was a little girl, helping out at her grandparents’ place. She loved being out in nature, nurturing plants and watching them grow. And as she got older, she learned the business side too, getting her degree in Agricultural Science. She found that she enjoyed strategizing about risk and reward, and weighing short-term profits against long-term growth almost as much as she loved walking the fields.
Now, Quinn finally had a chance to put everything she had learned to work, and she was already faced with an impossible dilemma. She played out the problem in her mind as she walked, the shops and people fading into the background as she turned it over one more time.
Normally, the Wilsons harvested their trees just in time to be delivered to the lots out in the city on Thanksgiving weekend. The later they cut, the fresher and prettier the stock would be when the first customers came out to the city lots in droves to choose the perfect Christmas tree.
But an early snow would slow the whole process, hurting those small businesses by not getting enough trees out to the lot owners in time. And late deliveries this year would mean losing hard-won supply contracts for next year.
All of it led Quinn to believe that it was probably less risky to harvest early, even if the stock suffered a little.
But can we reschedule the big flat-bed? And do we even have enough people to cut trees ahead of schedule?
Plus, an early harvest meant that there was no time to have their own stake bed truck serviced before they put it to work carrying trees in from the fields to be loaded up. It had recently started burning oil, and the only short-term solution Quinn had was just to top it off frequently until the trees were harvested and she could get it to the shop for a proper servicing.
The more she thought about it, the more she was starting to feel like she would never catch a break.
It’s going to be fine, she reminded herself. I’ll sit down and look at staffing as soon as I get back.
Approaching the corner of Park Avenue, she spotted Randy Ullman and Tanner Williams hanging the big candy cane decorations from the tops of the lampposts. Those candy canes had adorned the streets of the tiny Trinity Falls village during the holidays ever since Quinn could remember. As a child, spotting them always gave her a shiver of excitement at the idea that Christmas was coming, and she felt a little jolt of happiness even now.
Randy, the town inspector and head of maintenance, held the ladder. Tanner had probably volunteered to help out since Randy’s hip had been giving him a little trouble lately.
Mrs. Jones from the pottery shop had stopped on her way down the street, and stood by the ladder, squinting up at them now.
“Nice work, boys,” Mrs. Jones called out. “But aren’t you a little early?”
“Snow’s coming early this year,” Randy told her. “You can taste it. Won’t catch me out here climbing ladders once it gets slippery.”
Mrs. Jones’s eyes lit up and she nodded and walked on. Much like Ana’s clothing shop, a little early snow wouldn’t hurt a pottery gift shop like Locally Made .
Meanwhile, Quinn’s stomach twisted at more confirmation of her worries.
Instead of hopping into the truck, she threw the bag from the hardware store into the back, where it joined the crate of oil she’d picked up for the stake bed, and then headed across the street for a cup of coffee. If she was going to be changing up schedules, it was bound to be a long day.
Pushing open the door to Jolly Beans , she was met with a warm blast of air scented with rich coffee and delicious baked goods.
She slipped inside and saw that the place was already packed. Parents and caregivers sat at the small wooden tables with their little ones, cutting up muffins or the owner’s famous cranberry bread to share. She recognized a few of them, but they were too busy with their little charges to pay attention to who was coming or going. At one of the big tables, students from the local community college hovered over laptops, half-empty coffee mugs forgotten in front of them, while next to them a table of older farmers chuckled and shot the breeze. And of course, the usual handful of people with briefcases sheltered just inside the door with their paper cups, ready to bolt out as soon as the train pulled in.
Quinn slipped past them all and got in line, enjoying the hum of conversation and the sound of “Joy to the World” playing softly on the speakers.
If she could just get her coffee and head out without anyone trying to make small talk, she’d be a happy camper. And that felt pretty likely so far. Reggie Webb was here, and the older farmer had what her granddad used to call the gift of gab . But Reggie had his back to her, putting sugar in his coffee over at the little station. Hopefully, he’d continue on over to his table without ever turning back to catch her in line.
Quinn loved catching up with family and close friends, and she regularly lost herself talking shop with the guys up at the Wilsons’ place.
But the kind of chipper, surface exchanges everyone else seemed to be so good at when they bumped into each other at the café or the grocery store always tripped her up. Quinn was prone to turning into the same red-cheeked girl she had been back in high school, feeling like a bundle of nerves and practically forgetting her own name when someone asked her a simple question like how things were going, or made a harmless observation and expected her to react.
“Hey, Quinn,” Holly Fields said when Quinn reached the front of the line. “Coffee with room for milk?”
“Yes, thanks, Holly,” Quinn replied. They weren’t in the same year or anything, but everyone knew Holly from high school. She had been a cheerleader and super popular, but nice enough to know everyone’s name back then and remember their coffee orders now.
Holly had married some kind of computer genius last year, and Quinn was sort of surprised to see she was still waiting tables for Pete at Jolly Beans . But honestly, she seemed really happy here, tending to her customers. And Quinn knew what it was like to love your work.
“Quinn Allen?” a familiar voice yelled out across the café.
No, no, no…
But it was too late, Reggie had spotted her. When she turned to look at him, she saw that half the café had looked up at his hoarse shout and so many eyes were fixed on her that she had to swallow hard before she smiled back at him.
“How’s it going, sweetheart?” Reggie asked, smiling broadly back at her. She knew he was approaching her with all the kindness in the world and that he had no idea how much she wanted to disappear into the center of the earth. But that didn’t make it any easier.
“Fine thanks. How are you?” she managed, not looking away from him or mumbling.
Holly handed her a cup of coffee and she took it, grateful to have something to do with her hands.
“Well, pleased as punch that you’re home,” he told her, clapping her on the back and nearly sending her coffee spilling across the counter. “Are you getting excited for Christmas?”
“Let her fix her coffee, Reggie,” another familiar voice said.
Quinn looked over to see Joe Cassidy, one of the guys in her granddad’s generation, had approached. He smiled at her, his blue eyes twinkling. Joe owned Cassidy Farm, a tourist farm that also sold Christmas trees, but only locally at their own nursery.
“Of course, of course,” Reggie said, moving toward the little station along with Joe.
Quinn trailed behind them, wondering if she should just drink her coffee black today. But she knew it would be beyond awkward to run away now.
Just breathe, she reminded herself. Nobody is looking at you, even if they were, they wouldn’t care if you said the wrong thing.
She grabbed the pitcher of milk from the little fridge and added some to her coffee before grabbing a plastic lid and pressing it down on top.
“There you go,” Reggie declared. “You need your energy to take care of all of them trees, don’t you?”
She nodded, not sure there was a right answer or if it was really even a question at all.
“Your granddad would be so proud to know you’re following in his footsteps,” Joe Cassidy said quietly. “He used to say your pumpkin patch was the best they’d ever had, and caring for the land must be in your blood.”
Those unexpected words were the nicest thing anyone could have said to her.
“Thank you,” Quinn said, meaning it. She missed her grandfather terribly, and any reminder of him meant the world to her.
“If you need anything at all, just let me know,” Joe went on. “I’m glad to help you any way I can.”
She swallowed over a lump in her throat and nodded mutely.
“What do you make of the weather?” Reggie asked her suddenly.
“Let her go, Reg,” Joe said right away. “She’s got a lot on her plate.”
“See you all later,” Quinn managed, slipping between tables toward the door and feeling pretty good about the interaction. She had stuck it out and been rewarded with a really nice memory of her granddad.
It probably would have been smart to take advantage of the moment with Joe Cassidy to see what he thought about an early harvest. But he’d left her an opening to get in touch another time.
Besides, she might catch a break with the weather after all. And in that case, she wouldn’t have to worry about it.
“ Look, Daddy ,” a bright little voice from one of the tables by the window called out suddenly as she pulled open the door. “ It’s snowing .”
Quinn stepped outside, where lacy white snowflakes were already drifting down.
So much for catching a break.
But even though Quinn knew the weather was bringing her trouble, she couldn’t help smiling at how beautiful her hometown looked with snow falling all around. In that pure, unspoiled moment, she was a kid all over again, and anything was possible.