Chapter 9 Tree Therapy
Eliza could’ve baked all evening, but with the contest looming, she thought that getting a good night’s rest was more prudent.
She woke to the rich smell of fresh coffee and bacon.
Her stomach grumbled, and she allowed her hunger to carry her down the steps.
Lachlan stood in the kitchen, his dark hair tousled from sleep, cooking with her mint green Christmas apron.
He made it look like a festive hand towel wrapped around his tall, muscular frame.
At first, he didn’t notice her, so she just stood watching from behind as he flipped the bacon, the frying pan popping and sizzling under the heat.
Eliza quickly whipped out her phone to take a picture of him. The snap of her iPhone camera gave away her presence, and he turned, frowning at her. She grinned and snapped another, this time catching him full on and staring right into the camera, looking heavily amused.
“Like what you see?” he said with a smirk.
Eliza’s cheeks reddened, not knowing how to answer. “Maybe. You do kinda look like someone from one of those sexy Christmas commercials. You know, like the ones where the male model is shirtless outside in the snow advertising for some restaurant?”
He raised a brow, leaning against the counter and mischievously popping out a hip. “So I’m a male model to you?”
Eliza realized her grave mistake a second too late but recovered it quickly, hiding the blush deepening on her cheeks by taking a sip of her coffee he had generously laid out on the table for her. “Don’t let it get to your head. It’s the apron doing all the heavy lifting.”
He laughed, a warm melody that flooded her ears. It sounded like Christmas bells. He crossed his arms over his chest, biceps flexing. “Is that so? Maybe I’ll lean into the whole culinary heartthrob angle. Pick myself up a hot model girlfriend along the way …”
Her attention snagged on the girlfriend part. So he was single?
Not that Eliza was interested.
“Please,” she snorted into her coffee. “I’ve seen better.”
“Just admit it,” his smile grew, teeth gleaming as white as marshmallows. He reached over her head to grab a plate. “You’re going to be thinking about this long after Christmas.” He gestured to the apron with his hands.
A dramatic retching sound came from the corner of the kitchen. Eliza jumped, sloshing her coffee. Puffcake peeked his icing-covered snout over the top of the mixing bowl, hanging out his tongue in disgust.
Lachlan chuckled, loading three plates of food. “The apron’s a hard pass from Puffcake.”
Puffcake breathed, and white powdery sugar sprang from his nostrils. He lowered his head back in the bowl.
“He’s so judgmental in the mornings,” Eliza said.
“Must get it from you,” he said. He set their plates down on the round breakfast table, pulling out the seat for her. She also noted there was a tiny plate left on the windowsill for Puffcake, so he could eat his breakfast in luxury.
Eliza’s heart wrenched, thinking of Isadora. Is this how it started for her, too? With sweet gestures and early morning breakfasts? With fresh coffee and easy flirting? Minus the sassy cinnamon-crusted dragon, of course.
She wrapped her hands around her coffee as she sat, enveloping herself in the warmth.
“Everything okay?” Lachlan’s brows furrowed. Puffcake raised his head again from his current bed and slinked his way over, not skipping a beat as he gobbled up his food.
“Yeah,” she sipped. “Just thinking.”
Lachlan set the spatula down and splayed his hands out on either side of the table. “Funny you should mention it, because I’ve been thinking.”
“Have you, now?” Eliza widened her eyes playfully. “Didn’t know that was possible.”
“Hilarious,” he deadpanned. “I’ve been thinking we don’t have a tree. And what’s Christmas without a tree?”
Eliza had noticed it, too. The house certainly lacked a kind of charming glow without it.
But she really didn’t want to take away time from baking to go hunting for one, not when she was having these kinds of baking epiphanies.
Already, she was eager to have Lachlan step aside so she could bake the three of them cinnamon rolls, American pancakes, something sweet to go alongside their meal.
She could do without a Christmas tree. Unless she wanted to pipe a few shortbread sugar biscuits shaped like Christmas trees and call it a day.
Eliza didn’t respond. Sensing her apathy, Lachlan sighed.
“Look, I’ll be honest with you. This isn’t the way I saw my Christmas being spent, either.
If it were up to me, I wouldn’t go get a tree at all, but …
My sister says that I need to. That it would help …
” he tried to find the right words, but couldn't seem to. “I don’t know, I guess, cheer me up?”
What did he need so much cheering up about? If he were to ask her, she’d tell him that he cared too much about what his sister thought. If Lachlan’s sister wanted him to do certain things, she should be here with him to do them.
Eliza arched a brow as Lachlan stumbled through his explanation. “So, what? Your sister thinks you need tree therapy, or something?”
“That’s not a clinical term, but I believe so, yes.”
“You could prove your Christmas spirit to your sister by telling her that you’re stuck in an enchanted cottage with a gingerbread dragon and a girl who throws flour at you like a hand grenade.”
“Yeah, I have a strong inclination that she wouldn’t believe me. For good reason, too. But she would believe that I met someone, and we were going tree shopping together.”
Eliza’s heart took a leap. She wondered if he would tell his sister about her. The thought made her swell with pride a little.
Don’t be silly, Eliza, it’s just a joke.
“I don’t know …” Eliza’s voice trailed off, her enthusiasm—along with her confidence—waning.
“Puffcake can go too,” he sing-songed.
Puffcake just huffed in response, and Lachlan looked hopeful.
“You really want to go get one, don't you?” Eliza asked, setting down her coffee.
“I could try to go alone, if the house would let me. Probably would just pick up a sad Charlie Brown tree. One with saggy limbs and wilting pine needles.”
“Fine,” she rolled her eyes. “I’ll pick out the tree, but you’re paying for it and carrying it back. I’m not about to be a part of the climate crisis.”
“Deal. Like any of that was ever in question.” He settled himself back in his chair, smiling brightly.
Her stomach flipped, but she blamed it on the caffeine.
Yesterday, Eliza had asked Gretel how they’d be able to find the road in the middle of this blizzard, and she’d simply responded with a smile.
“Breadcrumbs,” she’d said, but one thing Lachlan and Eliza didn’t plan for was how the house might react to the two of them leaving, even if it was together.
She twisted the peppermint-striped knob, but like yesterday, the door didn’t budge. “Darn, we’ll just have to stay inside today …” Eliza said.
Lachlan shot her a look. “Maybe the house only lets us leave on its terms?” he jested.
She shrugged. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
Puffcake’s gumdrop eyes popped open, as if suddenly struck with an idea. He batted his little glittery wings over to them, using his snout to point at each of their hands before pointing to the door.
“I think he wants us to try opening the door together,” Lachlan said.
She huffed, but she placed her hand atop the knob. Next, Lachlan’s hand came down over hers, wrapping her in warmth. Heat radiated up her fingers and spread through her body, like the cottage had just cranked the heat up by several degrees.
The moment they touched the door in unison, the lock clicked open, and the cool outside air rushed in to greet Eliza’s hot face.
“I think the house likes us together,” Lachlan laughed.
“Don’t start that nonsense,” Eliza warned. “Now, where exactly is the tree farm?”
Lachlan pulled out the Airbnb’s brochure from his back pocket and waved it. He opened it, running a finger along the map. “X marks the spot.”
They trudged up the hill and through the snow, the hush of the forest only broken by the crunch of their boots underfoot and the rhythmic creak of pine trees as the wind picked up.
Every meter or so, a fresh piece of bread appeared alongside the road—golden and steamy against the cold snow. Gretel had said that Hansel’s breadcrumbs were of a “special sort,” designed to keep wanderers from getting lost no matter the season, even in the thickest snowfall.
What Hansel hadn’t accounted for was Puffcake’s ability to put down.
Without fail, the little sugar sprite took his sweet time hopping down from Eliza’s makeshift scarf sling to pause by each breadcrumb. Then, he’d gobble up the breadcrumb right there on the path.
“Puffcake!” Eliza called, “Those aren’t for eating. We’ll need them to find our way back to the cottage.”
Puffcake shot her a defiant look, as if he wasn’t one bit remorseful.
It was helpful that the blizzard had not seemed to touch the woods with the same kind of intensity as it had in the cottage. Even the trails were only lightly covered in snow, but still visible.
“Do you think that the cottage somehow created the blizzard to trap us inside together?” Eliza asked.
“Wouldn’t surprise me,” answered Lachlan.
Behind them, Puffcake flapped his wings hard as he struggled to keep up. His breath came out in little, quick puffs of flurries. Eliza stopped halfway up the incline, unwound her scarf, and gently cupped her hands. “Come here, you little over-baked spice bread.”
Puffcake gave a satisfied purr as he settled himself into the scarf. Soon, he was fast asleep, snoring with every inhale.
Her mobile dinged. She frowned as she glanced at the message. It was from an unknown number, but she knew exactly who sent it. Her stomach tightened.
Davis
You bloody serious, Liz? You blocked me? Really mature. No wonder you lost the bakery. Couldn’t handle the heat, could you?
Tears pricked at her eyes. He could be so mean sometimes. And he knew she hated it when he called her Liz.
“Everything okay?” asked Lachlan.
“Mhmm,” she hummed, faking a smile. “Of course. Sorry, it’s just . . Someone from back home. You can take the girl away from the bakery, but you can’t take the bakery away from the girl.”
Lachlan arched a brow, unconvinced by her deflection. “I thought you came here to escape for a little while.”
“Thought so, too,” Eliza mumbled. “Turns out you can’t in a world full of toxic exes and mobile phones.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets, slowing his pace just a little. “Maybe it’d be best to turn it off for a little while.”
“Quite thick coming from you,” she said. “How many villas have you closed on since you’ve been here?”
“Closed? Zero. Inquired? About four.”
She just shot him a look as if to prove her point.
“It’s the holidays,” he defended, as if that was supposed to excuse the hypocrisy away. “I’d be an idiot not to at least answer emails this time of year. It’s a goldmine. Besides, I like my work. It was my sister who told me to take a break, mind you.”
He blew out a breath, the puff of air diffusing in the frigid air. “Although I admit, I tend to dive into it too heavily when things aren’t going well, and she probably caught on to that. But it is fun for me, at least.”
“Sometimes it feels good to just get off the grid for a bit. Doesn’t it?
” she nudged him. “These days, it’s almost impossible.
Anyone and everyone can reach out to you in an instant.
Even if you don’t want them to,” she bit out the last bit.
She fidgeted with her phone in her hand, just waiting for another string of hateful messages to roll in. Thankfully, they never came.
She deleted the message, pushing Davis from her mind as best she could.
She was so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t realized they reached the Christmas tree farm.
String lights were hung between each aisle, and the branches were lightly dusted with fresh snow.
Lachlan led them down every aisle, eyeing each one of them like he was shopping for a new vehicle.
He kept saying things like, “Hmmm, too big.”
“Too small.”
“Eh, maybe.”
At about the fifth aisle, Eliza huffed. “I thought I was choosing, anyway. And must you be so picky?”
“Yes,” he answered, “I have to set my standards high or else I’ll be begging for us to take back the ugliest one because I’ll feel sorry for it.”
“Well, don't make the other trees self-conscious in the process,” Eliza said.
Lachlan said something about how there was “a profound lesson somewhere in there,” but she wasn't paying attention. She’d found it: the perfect tree.
It stood just a little taller than Lachlan, about six and a half feet tall, its branches thick and bushy.
It was the perfect storybook shape with a thick base sloping toward a skinny top.
“There,” she pointed, interrupting Lachlan mid-sentence.
“Now that’s a Christmas tree,” Lachlan replied with a whistle, walking in a circle to inspect every side of it. “I knew you had good taste, Snow. I just knew it.”
Suddenly, a tree behind Lachlan tilted over and dumped a cascade of snow on top of his head. He stood there, blinking, frost covering his dark eyelashes.
Eliza couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s not magic. That’s just straight-up karma for insulting the other trees.”
“Point taken.” He hoisted the tree up onto his shoulder and carried it to the front. He handed the cashier one hundred and fifty pounds. “Merry Christmas,” Lachlan said to him with a warm smile.
Eliza raised her brows, surprised. “Big spender.”
“Guess all the overpriced open houses finally paid off,” he said, the two of them setting off back in the direction they came to the cottage. Puffcake was still sound asleep in Eliza’s scarf.
“Your job’s really that lucrative, huh?”
“It is when you work as much as I do,” he turned to her with a half-smile. “Because what else does a single man like me in his late twenties have to do besides sell to his secondary-school friends who are married with two kids and a goldendoodle?”
Eliza laughed, noting how he explicitly mentioned he was single. Piper was going to flip at the news. “I guess spend it on an overpriced Christmas tree.”
“Exactly. This is my wild phase. Blow all my money on getting stuck in a gingerbread house with a beautiful woman and impress her with pine needles and too-small baking aprons.”
She desperately tried not to smile and swallowed nervously. “Desperate times.”
“You have no idea.”
She silently slipped out her phone and quickly typed a message to Piper.
Can confirm—single.
Before she could put it back in her pocket, the message was read, and the three little dots appeared, showing Piper was already typing.
Then the shoomp of a reply.
You’re the luckiest girl in the world.