Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
During a lull in business on Tuesday morning, George decided to head over to the Fir Tree Grove General Store to grab some supplies.
One of the strings of Christmas lights that he had hanging on the front desk had gone out, and he needed a few ancillary things—receipt paper and a few items like that.
With no pickups on the schedule for at least an hour, he’d hung his Closed sign up and taken the truck over to the General Store to grab what he needed.
It was a bright wintry day, the kind that he enjoyed best for walking through the farm to show customers to their tree for pickup.
The sun glinted off of the hard-packed snow, and there was a crisp bite to the air, without any wind to make it uncomfortably cold.
He even left his window down just a crack as he drove, to let a bit of that good-smelling crisp air in.
The general store was buzzing with customers when he walked in.
Christmas lights were hung from every available surface, twinkling merrily, and two trees were set up—one large one next to the door and in front of the large window that overlooked the parking lot, and another small, tabletop-sized one on the counter next to the cash register.
An entire section of the general store had been set up specifically for Christmas items—decor items like ribbon and lights and faux garlands, as well as ornaments and smaller Christmas decorations like Santas and felt reindeer.
As he headed over to look at the Christmas lights, he saw Nolan McCoy standing by a shelf of candles and kerosene oil.
The town’s postman was wearing his usual off-duty uniform of a worn flannel shirt in red and black and a pair of beat-up jeans with boots, and he raised a hand in greeting to George as George walked past.
“Hey there, Mr. Lowery,” he said with a smile, and George nodded, raising a hand in greeting as well.
“How are things, Nolan?” George asked, giving the man a brief smile.
“Oh, they’re fine. Just stocking up on some odds and ends.” Nolan held up a pack of flameless candles. “Just in case of winter storms, that kind of thing.”
George nodded. “I should probably get a few things like that myself. Speaking of—are you still selling firewood?”
For years, Nolan had made a part-time job of chopping firewood and selling it to the townsfolk of Fir Tree Grove.
He’d often joked that in addition to supplementing what the post office paid him, it kept him in shape.
He and George had had a joke for years about George purchasing firewood from him—after all, George had an entire tree farm of his own, albeit trees for decorating, not for using as firewood.
“Sure am.” Nolan tossed the pack of candles into his basket. “Busy time of year, but I can set a couple cords aside for you if you need ‘em.”
“I could definitely use it. That wood stove in the office that I keep running all day this time of year has been eating it up.”
Nolan chuckled. “Just another reason to look forward to the holiday season being over, I’d think. Less need to burn up wood just to keep folks feeling warm and festive while they pick up their trees.”
George chuckled gruffly. “One of these days you’ll catch the Christmas spirit, son.”
Nolan shook his head, grinning ruefully. “No, I don’t think I will,” he said with a laugh. “But I’m happy to still sell you some firewood. When would be a good time to come by, do you think?”
“I’ve got a pretty busy rest of the day, but I could probably stop by sometime after the last pickup. Maybe an hour after sunset or so?” George suggested. “I’ll even bring by a couple of beers, and we can have a drink while we get it loaded up.”
“Sounds good.” Nolan tossed another pack of candles into his basket. “See you then,” he added, waving a goodbye as he headed toward the counter to check out.
George gave Nolan a smile and a wave as he headed to finish the rest of his shopping.
He liked Nolan well enough, even if the guy didn’t have the same Christmas spirit as the rest of the town.
It was understandable, and it wasn’t as if he did anything to damper anyone else’s enjoyment of the holiday.
It just didn’t bring Nolan joy, like it did the other residents of Fir Tree Grove.
He headed down the aisle with the Christmas lights, looking through the spools until he found a multicolored one that looked similar to what he already had hanging up. With that in hand, he moved on to the next item of business: grabbing some fresh pens and a couple of notebooks for the office.
He’d just rounded one aisle and was heading into another when he nearly ran directly into Mabel.
“George!” she exclaimed, thoroughly startled. “What are you doing here?”
“Shopping, like everyone else,” he said bemusedly. “Had a string of lights go out and figured I could do with picking up a few other things while I was at it.” He glanced at her basket and raised his eyebrows as he saw the assortment of items there.
There were cans of tuna stacked on one side, and next to them a glass quart bottle of milk from the local farm—the kind that always had the clot of cream on top when it was opened—alongside a fluffy pillow and a tiny jingle bell.
George cocked his head, trying to sort out what the odd assortment of items might be for, but as the seconds ticked by, he couldn’t puzzle it out.
“What’s all this?” he asked finally, gesturing at the basket. “The tuna and milk seem like you’re getting ready to make some kind of questionable casserole, but the rest of it—what on earth are you going to do with a single jingle bell, Mabel? Did one of the bells fall off the door on the shop?”
“Never you mind,” Mabel said, swatting him on the arm as she ambled past him in the aisle. “You worry about yourself, George Lowery.” Her tone was teasing as she said it, without any rancor, and he chuckled as he watched her walk past.
“I’m not the one buying a weird mishmash of stuff!” he called after her, and she waved a hand at him, playfully dismissing him as she headed toward the line for the checkout.
“What on earth is that woman up to?” he muttered as he continued on his way toward the stationery aisle. If he had to guess, the only reason he could think of for her to have such a strange collection of things that she was buying, was that she was working on yet another one of her pranks.
Their relationship had always been like that, for as long as he could remember.
They bantered and teased one another, even playfully bickering at times, in a way that the rest of the town insisted was a flirtation.
At one point, years ago, there’d even been a betting pool over at the pub on whether or not he and Mabel would get together.
The drawback of small-town living, he thought ruefully, as he looked through an assortment of pens.
Everyone had an opinion about everyone else’s life, and everyone was invested in the outcome.
But as much as that could feel like an annoyance at times—like when he was trying to ignore the fact that the whole town had an interest in his non-existent love-life—it came with good things too.
There was always someone in Fir Tree Grove to help.
If a person was sick, or their spouse or child was, if they were in need of help, if a car broke down or they fell behind on a payment, if someone needed a babysitter or help with a party, there was always someone willing to help.
Always someone to bring over meals after a birth or a marriage, or an illness or death.
That closeness—like any family, he reflected—came with ups and downs, but overall, it was a warm familiarity that he never wanted to be without.
He and Mabel had settled the question of whether or not their relationship would ever be romantic a long time ago.
She didn’t want a partner, she wanted a friend.
Someone who could liven up her life a bit and amuse her, someone she could laugh with, someone who brightened her day.
She’d already been married; she didn’t need a romance. At least that’s what she’d said.
Their pranks had become a part of that banter.
He still recalled the one she’d pulled last Christmas, when she’d pre-decorated a tree that he’d grown especially for Cindy and Neil, the owners of the Holly and Ivy Market.
She’d snuck onto his tree farm and decorated it with garlands of elves, which he hated with a passion, just to catch him off guard when he brought the couple out to see their tree.
To get her back, he’d left a garland of chickens in her doorway, and it had gotten her good. He grinned to himself as he remembered it; he was still proud of that one.
This was likely just another prank, and he wouldn’t be able to parse it together until whatever she had planned caught him completely off-guard. He might as well buckle up, he thought wryly, and get ready for what might be coming.
The thought surprisingly warmed him. He’d convinced himself long ago that Mabel’s antics were a bother, just something to clean up after and disrupt his day.
But as he headed to go check out, wondering just what she might be up to, he couldn’t help hoping that he was right about her planning another prank.
After all, it would give him an excuse to see her.