Chapter 30
THIRTY
QUINN
I’m crumbled into the corner of the barn, my teeth rattling, partly from the chill, and partly from the crying. My jacket is snug around my body, my knees are against my chest, and I’m sobbing into my hands.
When I pulled up here this morning, and saw what happened, I simply dropped to my knees in the snow.
Two windows busted out, glass everywhere, the display case blown to bits.
Mason jars with the firefly lights tipped over, some broken, some cracked.
Ornaments shattered against the floor. The Santa photo op station ripped to shreds.
Snowflake bulbs broken, the artificial trees tipped over with shattered lights. Everything… ruined.
“Quinn, what happened?” Zoey repeats.
I sniff hard and try to breathe out the cries.
I thought I had cried it all out, but apparently, I hadn’t.
The second Zoey answered, it rushed forward.
When I woke up this morning, I was so restless, and the sky was eerily calm.
Like the blizzard had torn through the town, ravished the streets, then came to a dead stop.
Zoey was so peaceful tucked in the bed, and I couldn’t sleep.
So, I’d slithered out of there and took off for the farm.
I probably could’ve left a note, but I thought I’d text her on the way.
I tried and it wouldn’t connect, then called, and it wouldn’t connect.
The roads were all clear in town, but the moment I took a turn outside of the city limits, I dropped the phone and concentrated on not getting in an accident.
Each downed tree, dead branch, and heavy snowbank I passed kicked my anxiety sky-high. It took nearly two hours to make the twenty-five-minute drive. I couldn’t even get the truck onto my property. I had to park on the side of the road and hike the rest of the way.
“Quinn,” Zoey says again, softly. “What happened?”
A choked sob releases. “Two of the windows broke and glass is everywhere and everything is broken… and it’s all…
over. I can’t open my store. It’s all ruined.
” Another guttural sound releases and I bury my head in my hands.
I can’t believe this happened. My dream, my livelihood, everything is destroyed. Gone, in a snap.
Zoey’s saying something on the other end, but I can barely make it out. Finally, I pull in some calming breaths and rest my head against the wall.
“I’m so sorry, Quinn. I can’t believe this happened,” Zoey says. “Why don’t you come back to my place, rest for a bit, and we’ll figure something out.”
I almost want to laugh. There is nothing to figure out.
Opening day is less than forty-eight hours away.
The day after Thanksgiving is the busiest day of the year for Christmas-tree farmers.
Black Friday is not just for retail stores.
If I miss out on this, I’m missing out on half my business for the year.
The year. My head pounds with a headache and I push my thumbs into my temples.
“Quinn. Can you hear me? Come back home, okay? I promise we’ll figure this out.”
I sigh and swipe my hand under my chin to catch the tear dribbles. “The roads are so bad. In town they’re great, but out here they haven’t cleared them yet.”
“Then I’m coming to you,” Zoey says.
“Absolutely not,” I snap. “It was stupid enough to put myself in danger like this, but there’s no chance in hell I’m putting you in any danger. If the roads don’t clear out by tonight, I’ll just sleep here. But please, promise me you won’t.”
Silence meets me.
“Zoey. Promise me.” I stiffen against the wall. Right now is not the time for Zoey to try any heroic shit. Now is the time for me to wallow in my grief and watch my dreams sink.
“Fine,” she finally says, and my body relaxes. “But you are a planner and an organizer. Make a plan.”
“I can’t! I have one day. One. It’s impossible. Even if I could fix the windows, the products are destroyed.” I loosen my scarf and stare at my broken store. No matter how hard or fast I work, I can’t get this place back in order. A cry locks in my throat, but I breathe it out.
“Please don’t lose hope,” Zoey says, her voice cracking.
I know she wants to take this heartache away from me. But she can’t.
My dream is gone.
“I’m going to go,” I say. “I’ll call you later and let you know if I’ll sleep here or if the plows come.”
A heavy sigh releases on the other line. “Okay. Be safe. And I love you.”
These words are the only thing that make a crack in this awful day. “I love you, too.”
I straighten my legs in front of me, rest my hands in my lap, and my shoulders collapse.
Fuck. I absolutely cannot believe this happened.
But Zoey is right. I need a plan. At least for tonight, if I have to stay here, I need to figure out a way to not freeze to death.
With the two windows busted out, I turned off all heat.
But maybe if I put up an industrial packing blanket in the window, I can block the cold air from coming in and just eat the cost of reheating this place for the night.
I drag myself from the floor, grab the ladder, and hammer the blankets tight into both windows. Glass crunches under my feet as I move across the room. I grab a broom and start sweeping. I sweep, cry, sweep, cry.
With no wind, the physical movement, blankets covering the windows, and the heater kicking back in, the barn begins to warm. I snap a hefty black garbage bag in the air, stuff it into a trash can, and start clearing piles.
A bulb ornament that looks unbroken rests beneath a table. I squat and reach for it. “Ouch. Shit.” Great. Just what I need. I scurry over to the sink and wash the cut, then grab the first aid kit. Once I’m bandaged up properly, I go back to work. An hour goes by, then two. I need some air.
I throw on my jacket and walk the property.
Tears stream as I pass by the homemade signs.
Anyone seen Rudolph? is missing the R. Where did Mrs. Claus put my boots?
is cracked in half. I swipe at tears with the back of my glove, then drag it back to the barn to fix for next year—if there is a next year.
Right now, I don’t think I want to try this again.
God, how did I get here? I left New York, my career, my home, for this. Did I make the right choice? Maybe I should go back to New York and start over again.
Stop. What am I even saying? There is no Zoey in New York.
Or Frankie. Or Morgan. There are not the nice people at the coffee shop, or the slow traffic, or Lake Superior, or the church ladies who show up to help build a stockpile of goodies for someone they don’t know.
Nope, I’m not doing this. Enough feeling sorry for myself.
I move my shoulders back, lift my chin, and continue moving around the property.
After I gather all the broken signs, which were less than half of all the signs, I start shoveling the wraparound porch.
My muscles burn, my breath is heavy, my heart thuds.
I should be feeling better with the physical exertion, but I’m not.
I wish I could be all positivity and sunshine like my girlfriend, but this is disastrous.
I move to the back of the porch when faint zipping sounds echo across the valley.
It grows quickly, gets louder, and it sounds like it’s coming up the trail to my property.
Freaking snowmobilers. Sounds like a herd of them.
I swear I’m not a violent person, but if they’re on my property, I’m installing a barbed-wire fence and they can deal with the consequences.
Okay, fine, perhaps murderous thoughts are not the best, but this is private property, and my trees are delicate and…
Ugh! They are definitely on my property.
By some miracle, the seedlings were still standing when I checked earlier, and if these asshats do anything to harm them, I’m not in the mood to play Minnesota-nice.
They will absolutely be receiving the full pissed-off Quinn Lee New York treatment.
I toss my shovel and stomp to the front of the property and… Wait, what?
What’s happening here? Several long moments pass before I fully take in the scene.
And when I do, my chest lifts. It not only lifts but soars all the way to the moon.
Zoey, Frankie, Morgan, and Debbie hop off the snowmobiles and remove their helmets.
Right behind them is a lifted Jeep that smashes through snowbanks with ease.
Zoey’s dad waves from behind the steering wheel as a mountain of supplies rattle against the Jeep windows.
I rush over to Zoey, but before I can say anything, all of them wrap me in a group hug.
The strong, healing power of these five people, supporting me, lifting me, holding me up when I can barely hold myself, fills me and I start bawling.
Zoey grips me as tight as she’s ever held me, transferring all the care and love I need and pulling my worries away.
When I pull back, I scan their faces. “I can’t believe you guys all came.”
Frankie claps her hands together. “Where do you want us first? We’re all here, ready to be bossed around by you for as long as it takes to get this place back in shape.”
My mouth drops open. I don’t think… I don’t know. Is this even doable? Wasted time? Worth it? “What about Thanksgiving tomorrow? Zoey, Debbie, you guys have all the prep today, right? And you’ll be so tired and—”
“Now, don’t you even worry about that for a second,” Debbie says, planting her gloved hands against my shoulders.
“Thanksgiving is about being around family and friends, and right now we are around family and friends. If we’re too tired, I’ll order pizza, and we will save it and do it next week. It’ll be fine. I promise.”
My lips tremble. Behind Zoey’s fogged glasses, her eyes are encouraging. She wraps her arms around my waist and squeezes. Behind her, her dad is smiling. And to the side of him, Morgan gives me a firm nod and a wink. “Do you all actually think we can do this?”
“Absolutely we can,” Zoey says. “Look at us. A force to be reckoned with, if I do say so myself. Just point us where you need us. What you’re doing here is special, Quinn. The town is going to love it.”
My heart bursts from my body. I have never felt anything like this before. This rock-solid, unfaltering support and belief in me and what I’m trying to do. I rest my head on Zoey’s shoulders and take a breath. “Thank you all so much. I literally don’t know what to say.”
“Which never happens, so let’s all recognize this for the miracle that it is,” Frankie says and groans when Morgan nudges her elbow into her side.
“We got you, Quinn,” Morgan says, tugging her hat a little snugger on her head. “How about we head inside, and you show us where to go?”
After we grab the supplies from the Jeep, and everyone stomps through the snow toward the barn, I tug at Zoey’s arm.
She pauses and turns to me, her eyes sheepish.
“I know, I know, I promised I wouldn’t come,” she says.
“Don’t be mad, okay? This isn’t about me not listening or respecting what you say.
This was about me and my selfish need to help. ”
My God, she’s amazing. I don’t know what I ever did in my life to deserve someone like Zoey, but here she is.
Plopped right in my lap, a gift from the universe.
I wrap my mitted palms around her red cheeks and pull her into me.
I kiss her chilly lips, warm them with mine, then fold myself into her. “Thank you for not listening to me.”
She kisses me on the top of my head, then grabs my hand. “Come on. Let’s make this Christmas miracle happen.”