4. Ethan
Ishift my weight impatiently as Violet pores over the designs in the jewelry store, her cheeks the same shade as the rubies in the display case. This entire fiasco is making her very uncomfortable, and I’m afraid she’s going to spin on her heel and march out of the store as quickly as we entered.
“Just pick one,” I whisper to her when the proprietor ducks into the back room, leaving us to peruse the pieces. “It doesn’t matter which one, Vee.”
“They’re all so expensive,” she hisses back, noting the price tags. “I’m looking for the cheapest one, but there doesn’t seem to be one!”
I snicker, a rush of affection flowing over me as I realize why she’s taking so long. I misunderstood it for reluctance. She’s just watching out for my wallet.
Shaking my head, I pick up a platinum ring with a princess-cut diamond and inspect it. “This one suits you,” I declare, trying to slip it on her finger, but it doesn’t fit. Her complexion is fully crimson now as she removes it and puts it back on the tray. “Should I get down on one knee?” I tease her. “Make a big, long speech?”
She shakes her head vehemently. “You better not, Ethan Bennet,” she scolds me. “These are way too much, anyway.”
“Look a little longer. Money is no problem. I’ve got it covered.”
She shakes her head vehemently, but I catch the questioning look on her face. “No. I don’t want any of these rings. I’ll use one of mine. Your parents don’t know my jewelry.”
But I have a much better idea. “Will you wear my grandmother’s ring? I can ask my mom for it.”
“No, Ethan,” Violet says. “What if you want to give that to your real fiancée one day?”
A strange thought crosses my mind. I can’t imagine having another fiancée one day. I shake my head. “No, I don’t want to give it to someone else. I think it’ll be perfect.”
Reluctantly, she agrees.
We head out of the store. No sooner have we stepped onto the sidewalk when two women I recognize from church approach us, flanking us on either side. At first, I think we’re just in their way, but suddenly, I realize we’re being targeted.
“Oh! Look at them, shining and radiant!” one coos as Violet backs away, her eyes popping. “You’re absolutely glowing in love, dear!”
“You’ll make the prettiest babies in all of Spruce Crossing with those hazel eyes, won’t you?” the other one demands, peering through her glasses at my friend’s face.
“W-what?” she gasps, and I grab her arm, steering her down the street as I wave goodbye to the women. “Oh, my gosh! How did they hear about us already?!”
“Welcome to Spruce Crossing,” I grumble, suspecting my mom had something to do with the free-for-all gossip already flying about town.
“Did she just say something about our future children?” Violet chokes.
“Never mind the gossip,” I urge, leading her back toward Main Street. “Should we grab a coffee before heading to my parents’?”
She’s hesitant now, but she agrees, allowing me to lead us toward the Daily Grind, the coffee shop next to the Maple Leaf Diner.
We have the place mostly to ourselves, heat blasting through the vestibule between the interior and exterior doors. Overhead, an enormous bunch of mistletoe hangs from the light, and I twist my head down to usher Violet over the threshold before she can grow more apprehensive.
“I’ll grab your latte,” I offer. “Take a seat.”
She doesn’t argue and finds a booth near the window as I order our drinks. As I wait, a colorful advertisement for the upcoming Winter Wonderland Festival catches my eye on one of the glass displays. Every year the town comes together in Spruce Crossing Park during the first weekend in December for the tree-lighting ceremony to commemorate the beginning of the season.
“Here you are, Ethan.” The barista places the drinks in front of me, and I take them off the ledge, retreating toward my waiting friend. I pause halfway through the coffeehouse to watch as Violet plays with her naked ring finger, as if she’s imagining the ring there. The sight brings a smile to my face.
“You’re going to like the ring,” I say, joining her at the table. “It’s rose gold, and you’ve always liked rose gold.”
Embarrassed, she releases her finger and takes her coffee, bowing her head away to avoid my eyes.
Sliding into the booth, I ask, “Didn’t you used to have a rose gold necklace once upon a time? You loved that thing.”
Surprise overtakes Violet’s face, and she blinks. “You remember that?” she sputters. “It was my mom’s. She said it belonged to her mother.”
I nod enthusiastically. “Of course I remember,” I chuckle. “You refused to take it off, even for gym class, and our teacher got so mad.”
A grin forms on her lips as she sinks back into the booth, her left hand reaching up absently to touch the spot around her neck where the chain once hung. That was years ago, though.
“Whatever happened to that necklace?” I ask curiously, picturing my grandmother’s rose gold and ruby ring on her finger. The smile fades, and her hand drops, falling back to the table as she looks at me.
“Stop changing the subject,” she scolds me, wagging her index finger at me. “Where were you going to get the money for the ring if I had picked one out at the store?”
I tense at the question, the same way she stiffened at the mention of her necklace.
“Okay, Ethan, really. What is going on here?” she presses.
I take a long sip of my drink. “I have a big nest egg put away.” Curiously, she stares at me, and I nod. “I do. Really. I’ve been saving up for years.”
Violet’s cleanly manicured fingers curl around her own paper cup. “Saving up?” she repeats. “For what?”
It’s my turn to look surprised. “You’re kidding, right?” I laugh. “I’ve told you what I want to do… haven’t I?”
The look on her face tells me I haven’t, and suddenly, I realize that I’ve been secretive about my dream, not only with my parents, but with my best friend, too.
Why haven’t I told Violet?
The simple answer is that I’m afraid she’ll think it’s dumb.
“No. What do you want to do?” she presses, sounding mildly hurt. I take another sip of my coffee and play around with the words in my head. I haven’t said them aloud to anyone, not ever.
“You can tell me anything,” Violet says, reading my expression with mild confusion. “What have you been saving up for?”
My lips part, but before I can utter a sound, the door to the coffeehouse opens, and a small group of teenagers wanders in boisterously, followed by a couple of businessmen.
“I’ll tell you later,” I promise, downing the rest of my coffee. “But we should get going soon. Do you need to go home before we head to my parents’?”
Violet eyes me like she wants to say something, but shakes her head instead. “No. Let’s just get this dinner over and done with.”
I offer her a taut smile and reach for her arm. “I really appreciate you doing this for me.”
She shrugs. “I mean, I guess you would do the same for me,” she replies. “Not that I would put you in this kind of situation.”
I grin, and she returns my smile.
“Let’s go,” she sighs, sliding out of the booth. “Before I change my mind.”
My dad is on a ladder,hanging the exterior lights on the house when we pull up in my Durango. He shoots us a glance that’s rife with disappointment.
“Dad, leave those,” I urge him, hurrying up the walk, Violet a few feet behind me. “I’ll do them.”
He glances over his shoulder at us and grimaces, but doesn’t stop what he’s doing. Adjusting his thick glasses, he continues stapling the lighting in place but calls down to us as he works. “Head inside. Your mother is waiting for you. I’ll be right in.”
“Hi, Mr. Bennet,” Violet says, waving the bottle of wine we stopped to pick up on the way over. He peers back down at her.
“Hi, hon,” he replies.
“I brought your favorite wine.”
“Shouldn’t you be calling me ‘Dad’ now?” he asks dryly. Violet’s jaw gapes in shock at my dad’s half-joke, and I take her arm, steering her toward the front door.
“You don’t have to call him ‘Dad,’” I reassure her, letting us into the foyer of the two-story house in which I was raised. Instantly, the smell of garlic and roasted vegetables overtakes all my senses, making my stomach growl as my mom appears in the hallway between the entrance and the kitchen.
“Oh! Ethan, Violet! You’re here!” she gasps as if she’s shocked we came.
“Hi, Mrs. Bennet,” Violet says, handing her the wine before taking off her boots and coat. “I’ll help you in the kitchen.”
“You know full well that I don’t need help in the kitchen, Violet, but I would like to have a private word—away from the men.”
“Hang on, Mom,” I interject, determined to get the ring before all the drama can start. “Can I talk to you first?”
My mother eyes me suspiciously but nods once, waving me into the kitchen with a floury hand, and I follow, flashing Violet a reassuring grin before I disappear.
“I’d crack that wine if I were you,” I mutter under my breath.
“I heard that!” Mom calls out, and I snort, hurrying after her.
“Hey Mom,” I say, leaning against the kitchen counter, careful not to touch anything. “I wanted to talk to you about Granny’s ring.”
Without looking at me fully, my mother produces the shiny heirloom piece from the pocket of her apron and hands it to me.
“I thought you might,” she replies, and I’m consumed with affection for the woman. “Please, don’t lose it,” she begs. “I trust Violet, but this ring has been in my family for four generations.”
“I know, Mom. We’ll take good care of it,” I promise.
“Now send that woman in here so we can have a chat.”
Closing my hand around it, I retreat to the living room where I left Violet and hand her the ring, winking. “Granny’s ring.”
She stares in awe for a long moment, her eyes misting.
“Violet!” Mom yells, and the moment passes.
My hand curls around her upper arm before she can take a step, and I stare into her eyes. “You’ve got this,” I whisper, unsure if I can say the same thing about myself.
She exhales and nods, turning to join my mother in the kitchen as I retreat into the living room.
The wood-burning fireplace crackles, and I throw on another log. I keep one ear trained on the conversation in the kitchen, but it’s difficult to hear while I move on to setting the dining room table.
My dad enters the house as I finish laying out the plates, stomping snow off his boots. He raises an eyebrow at me, and I try to smile, but his upset is still palpable.
“You putting out the Santa display this year?” I ask conversationally, but he’s in no mood for small talk. Kicking off his footwear, he joins me in the living room, flopping onto his favorite chair, and stares up at me, his thick glasses fogged.
“I don’t know,” he answers. “Maybe.”
I perch on the sofa, waiting for him to unleash.
“Have you set a date for the wedding?” he questions bluntly.
We’re diving right into it, aren’t we?
I hope the questions don’t get harder from here.
“Violet and I still have to discuss it,” I answer evasively, my eyes darting toward the kitchen. I wonder if she’s faring any better with my mother in there. “We only just got engaged, Dad.”
He’s unfazed by my response. “Why didn’t you tell us about this before, Ethan? I’m very disappointed in both of you.”
I bristle at the reprimand. “Dad, with all due respect, I’m a thirty-year-old man. I don’t need your permission to date anyone.”
Dad scowls, sitting forward to cross his ankles and fold his hands in his lap. “Of course you don’t,” he retorts sharply. “But you know that your mother and I have been looking to retire for some time now, and if you had no intention of taking over the store, it’s something we should have been made aware of a long time ago!”
Humiliation creeps down my neck because he’s absolutely right. I left him hanging so long, but it isn’t my fault they have put the entire weight of the hardware store on me alone.
“You never asked me,” I counter sharply. “You just assumed that I would take over.”
Hurt crosses over my father’s face, and I’m instantly contrite. As annoying as I’ve found their demands on me, I still love my parents very much and recognize the sacrifices they’ve made for me.
“I built that store so that you would have something,” he reminds me as my mom appears from the kitchen. “Now you just want to throw it all away? Is that how Violet feels about it, too?”
“No business talk tonight,” she says curtly. “Tonight is about celebrating Violet and Ethan’s engagement.”
I catch a glimpse of Violet in the doorway of the kitchen through the dining room, and she looks as pained as I feel. Mom disappears back into the kitchen, leaving me and Dad alone, but he doesn’t heed her warning. He does, however, lower his voice.
“Will you still work at the store once you’re married?” he presses. “Or do I need to find someone to take over your position?”
“Yes, of course I’ll work at the store,” I reply, flabbergasted. “I still need a job.”
“I don’t know what you’re doing, Ethan. You blindsided us with this engagement. Both of you. For all I know, you’ll be living off Violet’s income.”
I’m annoyed and offended by his take on the situation. “Dad, just because I don’t want the responsibility of taking over Bennet’s, doesn’t mean I’m going to give up on the store entirely. I love the store—and you.”
He purses his lips and turns away, looking out the front window as if he doesn’t know what to think anymore. And I am so glad that I never told him the truth, that I have another dream that has nothing to do with Bennet’s Hardware at all.
But maybe that’s all it is, anyway, a dream. It’s possible I won’t ever be able to see it to fruition, even with the money I’ve saved, with the perfect business plan I’ve been working on for a while.
A Christmas tree farm seems like a ridiculous business idea, but it’s one that’s rooted deep within me. Ever since I was a child, I’ve loved the sight of evergreens dusted with snow, sparkling under the winter sun. And to me, owning a farm isn’t just about selling trees; it’s about creating holiday memories for families that last a lifetime.
Why did I drag Violet into this? I’ve only created another distraction, but the result will be the same after the time I bought runs out.
I shove the intrusive thought aside and focus on enduring the grueling dinner ahead. Violet is going to need my full support for this.