Chapter Eight
“G ram, I was hoping we could look at your wedding album. It’s around here somewhere, isn’t it?”
Adaline hopped up from the sofa in Gram’s room at the senior center. She couldn’t seem to sit still this morning. Nor had she been able to sleep last night after the heart-to-heart she’d had with Jace in the gazebo.
Could she really call it a heart-to-heart, though, considering she’d been the only one who’d shared anything meaningful? Jace had apologized, which she’d appreciated. But after she’d spilled her guts all over the place, he’d otherwise gone strangely quiet.
Was it weird that she’d expected something a bit...more?
Obviously, yes. Classic Adaline. More, more, more. Unlike her, some people knew how to have a conversation without dumping their big feelings at the other person’s feet. He’d wanted to be her friend. Period. The man hadn’t asked for a deep dive into her fifth-grade psyche and how it related to her dating history for the past two decades. Why, oh why had she brought that up?
“Adaline, stop pacing. You’re making Coco dizzy.” Gram rested a soothing hand on the robotic dog’s back as her little mechanical head swiveled back and forth, tracking Adaline’s every move.
As usual, Gram was sitting in her beloved recliner. Fuzzy sprawled at her feet with his chin resting atop the toe of one of her slippers. Adaline had taken him on a long, meandering walk this morning before they’d ultimately ended up at Gram’s. Snow still covered the ground, and Fuzzy had taken great joy in snatching a twig arm from a snowman someone had built at the corner of Main Street and Dogwood Drive. The Cavalier had toted that snowman arm all over town. The poor puppy was spent, and it wasn’t even 9:00 a.m.
“Sorry.” Adaline plopped back down on the couch. “I’m a little restless.”
“I can see that, and I have a feeling I know why,” Gram said with a nod.
“You do?” Adaline toyed with the fringe on the hand-crocheted blanket slung over the sofa and wished for the thousandth time that she’d asked her grandmother to teach her how to crochet before she’d given up the hobby due to problems with her eyesight. Maybe someday she’d try and find a YouTube video and teach herself.
Just as soon as she saved the Comfort Paws training program, baked enough holiday pies to satisfy every sweet tooth in Bluebonnet and created a solid plan for Maple and Ford’s wedding cake. Her to-do list was getting out of control.
“This is about the wedding,” Gram said.
“I suppose it is.” Although, it was technically about the cake, not the wedding itself.
“Don’t you worry. It’s only natural to feel a little lonely when your sibling gets married. There’s nothing to be ashamed of, dear.”
Wait a minute.
Adaline squirmed on the sofa cushion. Gram thought she was jealous because Ford was getting married and she wasn’t? That wasn’t true in the slightest...even if hearing it out loud sent a pang to her chest.
“Gram, I’m not lonely. I have Fuzzy.” She gestured toward her dog. Light of her life. Her sun and her moon. Her furry little soulmate.
That wasn’t asking too much of a ten-pound toy-sized spaniel, was it?
“Sweetheart, you realize that Fuzzy is a dog, don’t you?” Gram said, eyebrows raised as she continued stroking the synthetic fur on Coco’s back.
The irony of being asked this question by the owner of a robotic dog wasn’t lost on Adaline. She gritted her teeth and smiled at Gram. “Yes, I know Fuzzy is a dog. I’m just saying that I’m not interested in romance right now.”
Or ever.
Gram looked at her as if she’d just sprouted two heads. “That can’t be true.”
“Yes, it can.”
Gram pinned her with a look. “Who interfered in Ford and Maple’s relationship when it looked like they might not be able to admit they had feelings for each other?”
Adaline swallowed. “Me.”
“And who butted in and fixed things for that sweet Jenna who owns the dance studio and her football player beau before they became a couple again?”
“Also me,” Adaline said. It was amazing what Gram could remember when she really wanted to. Maybe Adaline and Ford weren’t giving her enough credit.
“Precisely.” Her grandmother held up a pointer finger in triumph.
Adaline shook her head. “Gram, those are other people. I’m thrilled for my friends, but their relationships really don’t have anything to do with me.”
Other than the fact that Adaline had taken it upon herself to play matchmaker when the situation warranted it. But someone had to. And as usual, Adaline hadn’t hesitated to dive head-first into trouble.
Everything had worked out in the end, though. Sometimes her too-big personality had its advantages.
Gram snorted. “A person who doesn’t care about love and romance isn’t usually so willing to take on the role of unofficial matchmaker every chance she gets.”
Ouch.
“‘Unofficial matchmaker’ implies that official matchmakers are a thing, and outside of reality television, I’m not sure that’s true,” Adaline said, hoping to get Gram off the subject of her love life...or lack thereof.
No such luck, apparently.
“Adaline, dear. You believe in love. Don’t try and deny it.”
She did believe, just not for herself. Santa himself was more likely to come down her chimney than Mr. Right.
“Can we look for your wedding album now? Please?” Adaline stood up and started pacing again. She couldn’t sit still anymore for this nauseating assessment of her personal life.
She scanned the bookshelves. A faded photograph of Gram in her bridal gown sat on the top shelf next to a thick leather volume that looked like it might be a photo album.
“I think I found it, Gram!” Adaline rose up on her tiptoes and plucked the book from the shelf. Her grandparents’ names were printed in gold script on the cover, followed by the date of their wedding. “See?”
The book opened with an audible crack of its spine, and Adaline was instantly swept up in pretty pastel images of yesteryear. Gram looked so young and beautiful in her white satin gown with its long row of tiny, fabric-covered buttons and sleeves that came down to a point on her delicate hands. Her bridesmaids wore fitted, off-the-shoulder sheath-style dresses in sapphire raw silk, with matching satin pumps peeking out from the hem. Adaline’s vintage-loving heart skipped a beat when she found the exact picture she’d been looking for.
Perfect!
“Can I borrow the album, Gram? I promise I’ll bring it back tomorrow when I’m here for Fuzzy’s therapy dog visit.” Adaline closed the cover and held the leather-bound book to her chest as she turned to face her grandmother again. “Gram?”
She’d been so caught up in her find that she hadn’t realized Gram had suddenly gone quiet. Minutes ago, the older woman had been perfectly lucid, lecturing Adaline about love and romance. Now she sat with a dazed expression, staring off into space.
Adaline rushed to kneel in front of the recliner as her heart leapt straight to her throat. She took Gram’s limp hands in hers and squeezed them tight. “Gram, are you okay?”
Fuzzy pawed gently at Adaline’s knee, like he could sense her panic. The wedding album lay on the floor, all but forgotten.
But within seconds, Gram blinked and seemed to come back to herself. “Adaline, dear. It’s so nice to see you. When did you get here?”
Adaline’s pulse raced so fast and hard that she could hear every pounding heartbeat. Gram thought she’d just gotten here. Adaline had seen her grandmother confused before, but never like this.
It was hard to reconcile the older woman in the recliner with the photo album’s fresh-faced young lady dressed in bridal white. Adaline wished with her whole heart that Gram would never lose those precious memories. It seemed unfathomably cruel to think that might happen someday. Maybe she could help Gram hang on to that precious time...even just a little bit.
The album would help, but would it be enough?
Adaline didn’t have the heart to remind her grandmother she’d been there for half an hour already. It would just upset her, even if playing along almost felt like a lie. So she smiled into Gram’s watery eyes and told her the truest thing she knew.
“It’s nice to see you too, Gram.”
There was no logical reason Jace should’ve been so jittery heading into the second night of his pop-up Christmas tree lot. Things had gone great the night before. Better than he’d expected, in fact. Once he’d gotten home and had a chance to take a proper go at the bookkeeping, the numbers had surprised him. If business went this well for the rest of the month, the lot would buy him a few months in Bluebonnet before he’d need to worry about finances.
He still had a mortgage on the farm back home, but since he was staying at Uncle Gus’s place while he was town, he didn’t have much in terms of expenses here. Jace had hoped to make enough on this year’s crop to be able to devote all his time to overseeing Gus’s care once the holidays were over. There was no way of knowing how much time his uncle had left. The doctors said anywhere from weeks to months—possibly a year.
Jace didn’t have a plan for beyond the end. He didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t even think about the farm or what would happen to it if he didn’t get back in time to clean up the fields and remove the stumps in late February or early March. During winter, the trees were fairly self-sufficient because they were still in their dormant state. But once spring rolled around, the days were filled from sunup to sundown with planting new seedlings, tweaking the irrigation system and mulching.
Jace’s favorite time of the year—other than Christmas, of course—was May, when fresh new growth appeared. Lime-green buds known as candles formed at the tips of each branch. Over time, each candle opened up like a flower, unfurling the tree’s new needles.
The rest of the year was always a dizzying blur of pruning, weeding and harvesting. Jace loved May because it always felt like the farm was holding its breath. Each fresh candle was a new beginning, as bright and luminous as a flame.
May on the farm never felt as far away as it did when Jace was sitting at Gus’s bedside. Last night, he’d looked forward to working at the lot in the evening. Tonight, the closer his truck crawled toward the town square, the more his gut churned.
He was tired, that’s all. He needed a full night’s sleep. He needed to go home at night and put his feet up instead of poring over spreadsheets or rummaging through his uncle’s cabinets and drawers in search of a glimpse into Gus’s heart.
Jace knew he had one, even if Gus liked to pretend he didn’t. Once the older man was gone, all his secrets would be buried with him. Gus had never been a talker, and if Jace was ever going to understand his uncle better, now was the time. If he couldn’t pry any information straight from the horse’s mouth, he’d simply go looking for it elsewhere.
The funny thing was, Jace didn’t even know what he was searching for. He just hoped he’d recognize it when he found it.
If he found it.
You’ll find it , he told himself as he parked his truck along the town square. There’s still time. Then he flipped his headlights off and his gaze landed on the glittering pink lights of Adaline’s Christmas tree in Cherry on Top’s front window.
Jace’s breath gave a stutter. Maybe his underlying anxiety had less to do with his family matters and his farm and more to do with a certain woman he couldn’t seem to stop thinking about.
He still felt bad about last night’s revelation. He’d tried to take Adaline at her word and not worry about what had happened at the fifth-grade dance, but he’d clearly hurt her on a deep level if she still remembered every word he’d said back then. How could he have been so thoughtless? He’d been a kid—a kid who was going through a life-changing crisis, but that was no excuse. If Jace knew anything as an adult, it was that hurt people often left a trail of destruction in their wake. But he’d underestimated just how much that description had applied to himself.
He wished he could make it up to her somehow, but that was probably over the top, given the circumstances. Also, he had no idea how to go about doing so. Jace had already felt the need to atone for unknowingly stealing the town square out from under her and Comfort Paws. How did he keep ending up in this situation? Every time he turned around, he found himself indebted to the town’s pie-making sweetheart.
He switched off the ignition, climbed out of his truck and pulled his work gloves on as he headed toward the gazebo. Two dogs dressed in red Comfort Paws vests wagged their tails as he approached. They were both Cavalier King Charles spaniels, but Jace didn’t realize that neither one of them was Fuzzy until he climbed the gazebo’s steps and found Jenna and Belle manning the cocoa cart.
“Hi, Jace.” Belle looked up from attaching Comfort Paws stickers to a stack of paper cups and grinned. “Good to see you again.”
Jenna held up a hand in greeting. “Thanks again for letting us share your space. Maybe we’ll luck out this evening and get more snow. Adaline said business was booming at the lot last night.”
Hearing her name was a kick in the gut. Jace hadn’t realized until that precise moment that he’d been counting the hours until he could see her again, and now, it seemed as though she wasn’t going to be here at all.
“Happy to help,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t sound as hollow as he felt inside. “So it’s just you two manning the hot chocolate stand tonight?”
Jenna and Belle exchanged an amused glance. Could he be more obvious?
“Yep. Just us tonight.” Belle nodded toward the two Cavaliers. “And Ginger and Peaches, obviously. Hardly anyone will notice us with these two cuties around.”
“Seriously. I’ve been taking Ginger to visit patients at the rehab center for months now, and I swear not one person has ever asked me my name. They all know Ginger’s, though.” Jenna’s grin spread until it took up her entire face. “So sweet, right? That’s what pet therapy is all about.”
“You’re probably wondering about Adaline, though, aren’t you, Jace?” Belle’s eyes danced. “Not the dogs.”
“Um, no.” Jace scrubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t want Adaline’s friends to get the wrong idea...even though it sort of seemed they’d already taken that leap all on their own. Could a guy not gift a woman a Christmas tree without people jumping to all sorts of conclusions?
“I guess I just thought she’d be here,” he said, digging himself even deeper.
Ginger and Peaches swarmed his legs, no doubt picking up on his anxiety. Therapy dogs really were incredible that way.
“We’re tag teaming the cocoa stand since it’s going to be here for two full weeks. Adaline made a spreadsheet,” Jenna said.
“It’s us tonight. Adaline and Maple will be here tomorrow.” Belle peeled another sticker off the spool in her hands and stuck it onto a cup. “In case you were wondering or anything.”
“Got it. Good luck with the cocoa cart tonight. Let me know if you two need anything.” Jace said as he descended the steps of the gazebo. He felt a tug of disappointment with each footfall, and the feeling was every bit as palpable as it was nonsensical.
This was good, he tried to tell himself. Probably for the best. Tonight he could fully concentrate on his work instead of being distracted by the sound of Adaline’s laughter while he wound twine around pines for customers or refilled the large plastic tree stands. Something about the bell-like sound of it was soothing, as was the way the twinkle lights that crisscrossed the town square made the golden waves of her hair look like a luminous halo.
The lot seemed unusually quiet without the echo of that laugh among his trees. When light, feathery snow flurries began to fall, Jace immediately searched out Adaline, forgetting he wouldn’t find her in the gazebo. Belle returned his smile, but something in her big brown eyes told him she knew exactly who he’d been hoping to find grinning back at him instead.
Jace put his head down and returned to the task at hand. Business was steady and consistent, just as it had been the night before. The only difference was that it didn’t seem as fun. Then, only an hour or so before closing, someone tapped him on the shoulder as he was handling a seven-foot spruce tree.
“Jace?”
He wrapped a hand around the tree’s thick trunk and turned to find Jenna standing behind him with Ginger tucked into the crook of her elbow. The dog cocked her head and panted, pink tongue just visible in her little mouth.
“Sorry to interrupt, but there’s someone here to see you. She’s up at the gazebo.” Jenna hitched a thumb over her shoulder. “Do you want to come up, or should I send her down here?”
He propped the spruce against the orange temporary fencing he’d set up to separate the rows of trees and then tugged his gloves off. “I’ll come up. Thanks for letting me know.”
She hadn’t specifically said the visitor was Adaline, but a wave of disappointment washed over him all the same when he spotted a stranger waiting for him instead of Adaline’s heart-shaped face framed by buttery blond bangs.
“I’m Jace Martin. I’m the owner of Texas Tidings.” He shook the unfamiliar woman’s hand. She wore leather gloves, a wool dress coat and tall suede boots with pointy, stiletto-style heels. Her hair was pulled back into a low bun. Whoever she was, she stuck out like a sore thumb in a small town like Bluebonnet. “Can I help you?”
“Yes, Mr. Martin. It’s so good to finally meet you. You’re a tough man to track down. I stopped by your farm a few days ago and left an envelope in your mailbox. I swung by again yesterday because I hadn’t heard from you and my letter was still there, untouched.” She cast an approving glance around the Christmas tree lot. “This is so charming. I’m glad I got a chance to see your sales plan in action.”
“Thank you.” Jace still had no idea who this woman was or why she’d made the five-hour drive from his farm all the way to Bluebonnet. “I’m sorry, but who did you say you’re with again?”
“My apologies. I didn’t.” She reached into her massive handbag and fished out a business card. “I’m Maureen O’Connor.”
Jace ran a thumb over the raised lettering on the crisp white card. Maureen O’Connor, Senior Vice President. Briarwood Properties.
He shook his head. “I don’t understand.”
“I work for a company that searches out properties with unique aesthetics and transforms them into in-demand tourist destinations. Texas Tidings Christmas Tree Farm is quite the hidden treasure. You should be proud of what you’ve built there, Mr. Martin. Everyone at Briarwood is very impressed.”
“I’m still not following,” Jace said.
He didn’t have time for whatever this was. Across the lot, a couple with two small children looked as if they’d chosen a tree and were waiting for him to accept payment and help them to the car with their purchase. During the few minutes he’d already spent on this unplanned interruption, the man had checked his watch twice. If Jace didn’t get over there pronto, he was going to lose the sale.
“Then I’ll cut straight to the chase. Merry Christmas, Mr. Martin.” Maureen O’Connor offered him a tight smile as she hiked her designer bag higher up on her shoulder. “Briarwood Properties would like to buy your farm.”