6. Quinn
6
QUINN
Q uinn watched as the guys loaded trees from the farm’s stake bed truck onto the big flatbed trailer that would carry them to the city. It was difficult work, the last step in a many-year process that took each tree from a tiny seedling to the full-grown evergreen that some lucky family would get to gather around this Christmas. This was when all the planning, planting, fertilization, irrigation, shearing, cutting, and wrapping finally paid off.
When she thought of the years without enough rain, the ones with too much, and the pests that plagued the little trees even in the best of weather, it felt like a miracle that any had made it to this point, where they would soon be filling people’s homes and hearts with happiness.
Knowing that many of these trees had been planted back when she was barely in high school made Quinn shake her head at the thought of the hours of sweat and love that had gone into each and every one.
Scrambling to cut the trees early had kept her busy just about twenty-four-seven during the days since her conversation with Anne-Marie. But the hard work and organization had been a boon to her aching heart after that bit of news.
Maybe she would never get to the see the trees she’d planted this year make it onto a truck, but she would leave knowing that at least during this Christmas, she had helped the Wilson Tree Farm hold onto its reputation for doing right by the small lot owners in the city who relied on them.
That’s not nothing, she reminded herself for about the hundredth time, as she felt a lump start to form in her throat.
She did her best to push the thoughts aside for now. But once the last of these trees were on their way, she would have no choice but to face up to her future and track down Beau Wilson to have that preliminary talk Anne-Marie was so eager for them to have.
To be fair, Quinn wasn’t really procrastinating. She had already tried to nail him down a couple of times. She was hoping that having the talk would be like pulling a Band-Aid off by acknowledging fully that she wasn’t always going to run this farm.
We’ll just go over the books, she told herself. It’ll be fun, and he’ll be up to speed in no time.
Though if Beau had his father’s struggles with bookkeeping, it might actually take some time. When Clyde brought her into a managing position, she’d been astonished at the condition of the books.
“I know where everything is,” Clyde had said. “It’s organized like a tree man would understand.”
“It also needs to be organized like a tax man would understand,” she had told him gently, before convincing him to let her own dad come help out for a couple of nights.
Quinn’s father was serious and reserved by nature, just like she was. He also worked as a bookkeeper in town, and he had been happy to help reorganize the last ten years of records with Quinn when she showed him how she wanted it.
“See?” her dad had said gruffly when he was finished. “Guess I’m good for something after all.”
She’d felt a pang of guilt at the idea that he knew how much she resented the fact that he’d let her grandparents sell their farm.
But as much as his decision pained her, she never held it against him. It had been the right thing for him and the rest of the family at the time. And the funds from the sale of that beautiful land had gone into savings accounts for all the grandkids, including Quinn. Her hope was that maybe one day she would be able to invest her portion back into a farm of her own.
If I’m not running this place, maybe I’ll be more motivated to try and find my own land.
But that would be a long time from now, when she had a lot more saved. Land out this way was pricey these days. She doubted if her grandparents would have had a farm at all in today’s market.
“Slowly, please,” she yelled to one of the temporary crew she’d hired for the busy week. He was a good heavy equipment operator, but she could tell he was used to moving dirt and rocks, not stacks of trees that were liable to slide out and get damaged.
“Sorry, Miss Allen,” he called back to her. It was nothing short of miraculous that they had pulled together for an early cut. The Cassidys were letting her borrow a bunch of their guys, but since Cassidy farm was mainly a tourist farm, most of them had never worked on a tree harvest before.
The sound of a truck crunching onto the gravel driveway caught her attention and she turned to see that it was Beau. Her heart gave a little squeeze of empathy when she remembered that of course he was coming home now, since his little girl was just finished with preschool. She wondered what he would do when he was running this place, but it sounded like his mom was planning to help out.
Zandy hadn’t spent much time on the farm when her mother was around, which made sense. Quinn had caught a glimpse of her here and there, but the little girl and her mom had been living in an apartment in town. Now that she and her dad had moved into the little green caretaker’s house on the farm, Quinn often spotted the cute little girl sitting on the porch of the big house with her grandmother, reading or playing.
Quinn turned back to keep an eye on the trucks and nodded to herself when she saw the guys were being more careful now. This was the kind of work where you always saved time and money if you went slowly.
“No,” a little voice cried out.
That was all the warning she got before Zandy flew across the lot toward the trees being loaded onto the truck, and right into the path of the swinging backhoe.
Quinn moved without thinking, sprinting to the girl and grabbing her out of the way just in time, her heart thundering in her chest as she ran with her.
The little girl must have been too surprised to make a sound or move. Quinn had them both well out of the way before she realized that she hadn’t been very gentle. She was still clutching Zandy like she was trying to squeeze the air out of her.
“Sorry,” she said, loosening her grip. “Are you okay?”
“ My trees ,” Zandy yelled, trying to run back as soon as her feet were on the ground.
Quinn wrapped her arms around her again, but gently this time.
“Zandy,” Beau panted, running up to them, his arms full of grocery bags. “What were you doing?”
He let the bags drop at his feet and crouched in front of her, blocking her view of the trucks.
Quinn let go of the little girl at last, figuring her dad could stop her now if she tried to take off again.
“They’re taking all my trees,” Zandy sobbed. “My grandma’s Christmas trees.”
Beau’s face fell and Quinn understood. It wasn’t like they could just choose not to harvest and sell the trees because Zandy liked to look at them. If she was being honest, Quinn was also going to miss looking out over them every day.
“I always feel a little bit sad when it’s time for the trees to say goodbye too,” Quinn heard herself tell Zandy. “Did you know that?”
Zandy looked up at her and sniffled, then shook her head after a moment.
“I do,” Quinn told her. She’d only been here for harvest twice now, but she was telling the truth. It was hard to say goodbye. “But I remind myself that each year we keep almost all the trees on the farm, and we only say goodbye to the ones that are ready for their new homes.”
Zandy glanced over her shoulder at the truck suspiciously.
“That looks like a lot, doesn’t it?” Quinn asked her. “But we have so many more trees. Look over there.”
She pointed to the hillside, where thousands of trees at various stages of growth still stood.
“And that’s just the trees you can see from here,” Quinn went on. “Maybe one of these days your dad will take you out on horseback with him to see all the other ones too. There are big trees that are almost ready to be harvested, and tiny baby trees that are just beginning to grow.”
Zandy blinked at her, but there were still tears on her cheeks.
The engine started up again on the backhoe below and Quinn thought quickly, wanting to keep Zandy’s attention.
“Besides, all these trees that are leaving are happy,” she told her firmly. “Do you know why?”
Zandy shook her head.
“Ever since they were tiny little saplings, those trees have been dreaming about being Christmas trees,” Quinn told her. “And now they’re so excited because they’re going to wear pretty lights and ornaments, and have presents under them, and everyone will admire them and feel happy just looking at them.”
That bought her the beginnings of a smile.
“Now, I want you to turn around and look again,” Quinn told her. “But this time, I want you to think about how many families will have an extra special Christmas because they have a tree from your farm.”
Beau stood and moved over slightly so that when Zandy turned she could see the trucks again.
Quinn watched Zandy’s face as she catalogued all those trees.
“So many Christmases,” Zandy laughed suddenly.
“It is a lot of Christmases,” Quinn agreed, straightening at last and glancing up at Beau in relief.
He was already gazing down at her with a soft look in his eyes.
She cleared her throat and looked away, suddenly feeling nervous and unsure why.
Zandy began singing “Oh Christmas Tree” to herself.
“Hey,” Beau said softly to Quinn. “Thanks. And sorry if it feels like I’ve been avoiding you. We can talk farm stuff as soon as you’re ready.”
“I know you have your hands full,” she said, realizing she hadn’t quite realized how full until seeing Zandy and the range of ways a kid could get into trouble on a working farm.
“It’s no excuse,” he said right away. “Just name the time. I’m all yours.”
Something about the way he said it made her cheeks heat and she sincerely hoped he didn’t notice.
“Why don’t I stop by your place when I’m done here today?” she offered.
“That would be great,” he said. “Thank you.”
“See you then,” she said. “Bye, Zandy.”
“Who are you?” Zandy asked suddenly.
“That’s Quinn,” Beau said before she could answer. “She’s the most important person on this farm. She’s in charge of protecting the trees and making sure they grow up strong.”
Quinn blinked back at him in surprise.
“Like a superhero,” Zandy said, her eyes widening.
“Yeah,” Beau said. “Kind of like that.”
“You’re Captain Christmas Tree,” Zandy decided, her eyes lighting up. “You need a costume.”
“I have one,” Quinn pointed out, gesturing to her waterproof boots and parka.
“No, no, one with a picture on it,” Zandy said, shaking her head.
“Like a symbol?” Beau asked.
Quinn smiled and unzipped her coat, lifting up her sweater to reveal the tee shirt she was really glad to be wearing today. Wilson’s Tree Farm was written in small font around the pretty little evergreen logo.
“Whoa,” Zandy breathed.
Quinn winked at Zandy, then pulled her sweater down and zipped up her coat again.
One of the guys yelled out to the backhoe to stop, and she looked down to see that a tree had spilled off its load. She felt a pang of guilt for taking her eye off the ball.
“I’ve gotta get down there,” she said quickly. “See you tonight.”
“Bye, Captain Christmas Tree,” Zandy yelled after her.
In spite of everything else going on, Quinn couldn’t help the smile of genuine happiness that spread across her face as she headed back to work.