Chapter Fourteen
OWEN
After breakfast, I go up to my room to grab my wallet. Hanging from the doorknob is a small paper Neiman Marcus bag. Inside? A dozen candy canes. My payment for entertaining Layla on our van ride this morning.
I’m still grinning fifteen minutes later as Brady and I grab our coats from the coat closet for our trip to the tree farm.
Sadie runs down the stairs and launches herself into my arms. I just manage to catch her. Her arms clamp around my neck, and she gives my ear a slobbery kiss.
I find myself missing Greta.
“Cousin O, Mommy says I get to pick my own Christmas tree for my room!”
“That’s exciting.” I glance over her shoulder and watch Tori descend the stairs. Her eyes are puffy and red rimmed. It’s probably something to do with her divorce. Most days, I want to throttle her ex .
“Will you help me pick my tree?” Sadie asks. “It has to be this big!” She stretches her arms as far above her head as they’ll go.
“I think we’ll find you the perfect one.” I tickle her belly, and she squirms as she laughs.
I reach out and tug Brady closer, then with one hand shut the book he holds. He scowls, but I ignore his annoyance.
“Sadie, do you remember meeting my brother Brady at breakfast?”
She nods like a bobblehead. “Our names rhyme!”
“Exactly,” I say. “He’s going to be your buddy today at the Christmas tree farm. Did you know his superpower is picking the perfect tree? That’s why he’s coming with us; otherwise, we’d leave him home.”
Brady isn’t happy when I foist Sadie into his arms, but he doesn’t drop her, so that’s encouraging. I’m sure this is the first four-year-old he’s ever met.
“Cousin BB, I want a superpower like you,” she tells him. “What can it be?”
Brady scrunches his face and looks over for help. I shrug and move toward Tori. He sticks his tongue out at me.
“Um, you’re cute?” he says to Sadie.
“That’s not a superpower, silly! I’m a girl! All girls are cute!”
When I reach Tori, I ask softly, “What happened?”
She flips her sunglasses over her eyes even though we’re still inside. “My ex started dating a good friend of mine. I can believe he’d do this, but why is she?”
“Tell me where to bury the bodies. ”
That gets a small twitch of her lips. “I’d like to stay in bed and pretend the world doesn’t exist.”
I pull her into a tight embrace. “I’m proud of you for coming today.”
“Sadie wouldn’t miss this trip, though it crossed my mind to stay and send Sadie to the farm with you.” An enormous sigh. “But I’m an excellent mother–no matter what Matthew implies in custody court.”
“You’re the best mother.”
She pulls back and wipes under her eyes. “You’re dang right.”
Years ago, she would not have said “dang.” She hasn’t sworn since Sadie was born. Her ex never made similar concessions.
Grandmother comes up beside us.
“Owen, there are eight of us going to Trolley Farms today,” she tells me. “Instead of taking two vehicles, would you drive your van?”
Even with sunglasses on, Tori’s eyes visibly widen. “ You brought the van parked out front? Are you married with eight kids and didn’t tell me?”
I elbow her gently. “You should be flattered. I named the van after you. The Chevrolet Tori.”
“You could have at least gotten a Mercedes-Benz if you were going to bestow my name on the thing. Ecclestons should refuse a Chevrolet on principle alone.”
Which is why I don’t consider myself an Eccleston. “I was more concerned at the time about not spending the night in the airport.”
She smirks. “They have hotels nearby. ”
Ten minutes later, I’m behind the wheel with Grandmother in the passenger seat. Mom and Miles sit in the middle seat having a conversation that puts huge smiles on both of their faces. Brady’s in the seat behind them with his book.
In the very back, Layla, Tori, and Sadie sit. Getting Sadie’s booster seat back there wasn’t easy, but it was worth it to hear her giggle as I go over bumps at a speed higher than the recommended limit. Even Tori is smiling as she bounces around.
Trolley farms is thirty minutes away. As we exit York, Grandmother asks, “Tell me about this landscaping you do. Are you enjoying it?”
Only now do I realize I’ve made a fatal error.
I’m trapped up front with Grandmother and no escape. No one is nearby to act as a buffer. She can ask me anything she wants, and I have to answer. Anything less than absolute truth feels dishonest, and I can’t lie to my grandmother.
“Grandmother, landscaping is not all that exciting.”
“Call me Granny. I’ve never liked how formal grandmother sounds.”
“ Granny ?” I can’t contain my shock. I have never thought of my grandmother as a granny. She’s far too imposing. Or at least, she was when I was a teenager. The last few days I’ve seen a softer side. Still, granny ? “I can’t call you that.”
“Why not?”
Because she does not look like a nice, comforting granny. She looks like the queen of England.
“Well, um, okay. Granny .” The shape of the word feels wrong in my mouth .
Granny laughs and that makes me smile. Yeah, the nickname will not work for either of us.
“Do you remember the first summer you stayed with us?” she asks. “You had a hard time falling asleep.”
I think back, but it doesn’t sound familiar. “No.”
“You and I watched old episodes of Murder She Wrote together until you couldn’t keep your eyes open.”
Now that she mentions Murder She Wrote , I do remember. Over the years, the memories had faded until it felt like a dream, but now it comes back in a flash. That first year, I was homesick. If I stayed in bed I cried, so I began exploring the house while everyone else was asleep.
One night she caught me in the kitchen eating pie at midnight. I was sure I would be punished. She was imposing and … old. Instead, she cut herself a slice and joined me. We talked about my family and school, then went up to her room where we watched Angela Lansbury solve mysteries. I was vocal about how stupid I found the show. Grandmother offered to watch something else, but I could tell she was enjoying herself, so I declined. I fell asleep in her room, but woke up in my own.
It became our tradition a few nights a week, while everyone else slept, to eat dessert while watching Murder She Wrote . How could I have forgotten? It was one of my favorite things about that summer.
“I remember,” I say.
“The second summer I went down to the kitchen every night for weeks, but you never met me there. You had better things to do with your time, which I completely understood. Charles was an exacting taskmaster, but you were up to the challenge. I know the boy Owen, but I would like to know the man you’ve become.”
I have never felt so awful. That second summer, I thought about meeting up with Grandmother, but I knew if Grandfather found out I was wasting time watching murder mysteries he’d be disappointed. I didn’t think she cared. At least, she said nothing. But even at such a young age, I understood Grandmother was different at night, just the two of us, than during the day. I should have sought her out.
As I look back on the time I spent in Maine as a teenager, I realize for the first time Grandmother was lonely. It makes me reevaluate my thoughts about her. I escaped Grandfather eight years ago, but she never did. I’ve been lumping her in with the rest of the family, but that hasn’t been fair to either of us.
“I’m sorry I didn’t find you that second summer.”
She waves the apology away. “I didn’t bring it up to make you feel bad. I wanted to remind you we were friends at one time. I’d like to be friends again.”
Why not tell her about my life? What am I trying to hide? I’ve told none of the Ecclestons about the first company I co-founded because it’s a lot easier to deal with their disappointment than their expectations. Remembering that first summer, I know Grandmother would accept whatever I tell her without judgment. Unfortunately, much like Grandfather overlooked her, so did I.
“I don’t actually work as a landscaper,” I admit. “I bought a landscaping business. Sometimes I help mow lawns or weed flower beds, but it’s hard work and it’s hot. During the winter, we shovel snow and put-up Christmas lights. That’s more my jam. ”
She claps her hands together once. “How delightful. When did you decide running a business was what you wanted to do?”
While I drive, I talk about how my favorite courses in college were my business classes. For a group project, my friend and I mocked up a fake manufacturing business. When I quit Grandfather’s firm, I called him and asked if he wanted to try it for real. I used the contacts I’d created through my brief stint as a lawyer and found investors. Our success was sudden, but well-earned. We worked hard to get our company where it is today.
I don’t go into detail with Grandmother, but I explain that when I realized how our success was stealing all my time, I wanted out. I missed my mom and brother. I missed my friends. I missed living. So, I sold my half and got into landscaping instead.
“I have a lot more time since I mostly manage the crew’s schedules. I’m able to visit Mom and Brady every other week in Elko.”
Her expression glows with pride.
If I hadn’t been wearing my anger at the family like a shield, could I have had this conversation with her years ago?
Grandmother surprises me by asking, “What do you know about Layla?”
I glance in the rearview mirror and see Layla and Tori talking. It’s good to see my cousin smiling when thirty minutes ago she had tears in her eyes. And it’s always good to see Layla.
“Why do you ask?”
“I think she’s a marvelous influence on Spencer, but it’s obvious they don’t love each other.” She shakes her head, as if she’s confused. “Do you think she’s taking advantage of him for his money?”
A flash of irritation spikes through me. I speak calmly, but I am annoyed. “You’re bribing your grandkids to get married. Did you expect any other outcome?”
Grandmother’s mouth drops open. “I’m not bribing anyone. I’m giving a larger inheritance to those who have more familial obligations. You made it very clear that you’re not interested in any inheritance, but not everyone in this family is as … independent as you are.”
I can’t expect her to understand my point of view when she grew up with even more wealth than Grandfather. She’s always lived in luxury. I’m grateful I did not, though my teenage self would be shocked to know it.
“I did a background check on Layla,” Grandmother continues. “She has a large personal loan and outstanding credit card debt. She owes more than one hundred thousand dollars and only makes just over fifty thousand a year. That’s very irresponsible.”
Layla owes that much? I glance at her in the rearview mirror again. She’s smiling as she talks to Tori. My heart goes out to her. I’d guess she accrued most of the debt, if not all, for her grandma. I can’t even imagine how much stress she feels in this situation. If only I was the one she would rely on for help. I would give her the money and not make her marry me to get it.
“In answer to your original question,” I say, after taking a steadying breath, “Layla is not taking advantage of Spencer. Spencer is taking advantage of Layla’s situation in order to get the bigger inheritance. ”
“What do you mean? What situation?”
“Her grandma has dementia. Layla has no family to help pay for her grandma’s care. The debt isn’t from buying things for herself. It’s from making sure her grandma has a roof over her head.”
“She told me about her grandmother.” Grandmother looks out of the window thoughtfully. “Layla has very expensive clothing. And the Boudron. Are you sure?”
Even Grandmother knows about Boudron bags? They’re more well-known than I thought.
“I’m sure,” I say with conviction.
It’s why Operation-Persuade-Layla-Spencer-Will-Not-Make-Her-Happy is so important. She’s trading financial security now for misery later on.
“That is helpful information to have. Thank you for telling me.”
After parking at Trolley Farms, Grandmother leans across the gap between the seats and pats my arm. “It seems you’ve made yourself a beautiful life. I’m proud of you.”
Miles opens the passenger door and helps her down. He already has the wheelchair waiting. I stay where I am and allow her approval to wash over me. It’s something I didn’t know I needed. Subconsciously, I’ve been waiting for someone in my mom’s family to trust me to make wise decisions and accept me for who I am, not who they wish I could be. The knot of anger in my chest loosens further.
When I look up, the van is empty but for Brady. “Are you coming or are you staying here to sulk?”
“I’m not sulking.”
Brady shakes his head then jumps to the ground. I exit the vehicle and lock the doors .
Not far from the parking lot is a hay wagon that will take us to the barn further on. There are pre-cut trees available, but for a little higher cost, there’s an option of hiking through their tree farm to cut down your own. I know this because I did research on the place before breakfast. All part of Operation-Romance-Layla-Away-From-the-Idiot.
Sadie takes Brady’s hand and leads him toward the waiting hay wagon. Brady glances at me as if to ask for help, but Sadie will be a good influence on him. He needs experience with people outside of books and Dungeons and Dragons.
I turn to ask Layla how she enjoyed the ride in the back of the van and if I’ll get paid in candy canes again, but after our charged moment on the beach, she has been intent on not looking in my general direction.
She and Tori talk as they follow Brady and Sadie. I follow behind and listen in on their conversation.
“I’ve never been to a Christmas tree farm before,” Layla says. “My grandparents bought trees from the guys who sell on city corners.”
Tori sighs. “I have never been to any kind of farm. It’s not my aesthetic.”
Layla laughs. “No, definitely not. But that doesn’t mean it can’t be fun.”
Though I can’t see it, I know Tori rolls her eyes. “Fun? We’re heading toward a horse-drawn carriage filled with hay that I’m supposed to sit on to get to a barn. I can smell the horse poop from here. All I can say is I better not step in any of it. These boots are Jimmy Choo.”
“It’s called a wagon,” Layla whispers. “Not a carriage.”
Her correction is met with another eye roll, this time accompanied by a laugh. “See? Proof that this is not where I belong.”
A friendship forming between them is not what I expected, but I think they both need a friend right now.
It’s not as cold today as it has been, and I unbutton my coat and remove my gloves. It’s perfect weather for what I have planned for Layla. I check my watch. We have forty minutes until it begins.
“I love this smell.” Layla holds her arms out as if hugging the world. “Tori, don’t you just love the scent of pine? I want a candle that smells exactly like this.”
“I prefer to keep the smells of nature outside, where they belong.”
Layla laughs. Tori glances over her shoulder at me and cracks a smile.
I love the scent of pine, too. It reminds me of tree hunting with Dad. He loved finding the perfect tree. After he died, Mom stopped buying real trees and stuck with a fake. I haven’t been on a tree lot since. Nostalgia is a powerful, heady feeling. This visit is bittersweet.
Brady slows until the three of us catch up to him. “When our dad was alive, we cut down our own trees. Do you remember, Owen?”
“Yeah, I do. I’m surprised you do. You were young.”
“Not that young.”
Sadie, who has been staring at the horses as we approached the wagon, tugs on her mom’s arm. “Mommy, I want a horse! Can I have a horse for Christmas?”
“Absolutely not.”
The quick response does not deflate Sadie’s enthusiasm in the least. “I’ll name him BB after my favorite cousin! ”
Cousin BB blushes. I don’t even mind my demotion.
Layla takes her buzzing phone out of her coat pocket. “I’ll catch up. I need to take this call.” She looks at me for the first time since this morning. “It’s Brock Pine Home.”
My thoughts instantly go to her grandma escaping yesterday. Did it happen again? Layla looks braced for bad news as she answers.
She walks to the left of the path as everyone else continues to the wagon. I wait for her, not trying to overhear her conversation, but I don’t try not to overhear either.
As she listens, her whole body droops.
“I sent the payment on Saturday night. … Oh. Denied. How much do I still owe? … That much. Okay. Can I get it to you on Monday? … Yeah, I’ll have money on Saturday, but with the banks being closed, the soonest I can get it to you is next Monday. … Thank you. I appreciate your understanding.”
Money for her grandmother. Can’t she talk to Spencer today? Why does she have to wait until Saturday?
I want to hand her my credit card. I want to take care of this for her. What stops me is knowing that she won’t accept and a fear that I’ll embarrass her by calling attention to her financial situation again. If I manage a successful mission to romance Layla away from Spencer, she might let me help her. That’s the hope.
Layla puts her phone back in her pocket and meets me on the path. We catch up to the others who are already in the wagon. Sadie’s complaining about the scratchy hay, and Brady pulls her onto his lap.
At the back of the wagon are removable steps up into the bed. I hold my hand out to Layla. She won’t look at me, but she takes my offered help. Even with her gloves on, her touch is like a branding iron, and I wouldn’t be surprised if her fingers leave a permanent mark.
Unfortunately, she sits between Tori and the end of the wagon bed where there’s not enough space for me to squeeze in beside her. I’m forced to sit next to Brady on the opposite side.
Grandmother doesn’t take the wagon. It’s probably too bumpy for her. She’s on a golf cart up ahead, with Miles on the back holding on to her folded wheelchair. Mom sits next to him, both of them in deep conversation.
Brady leans closer and asks, “Do you think Mom likes Miles?”
I shrug. “They’re probably just friends catching up. They knew each other when they were teenagers.”
We watch as the golf cart jerks forward and Mom grabs onto Miles’ arm with both hands for balance. Even after the cart moves smoothly, she doesn’t let go.
“Or,” I say slowly, not sure how I feel about their closeness. “Maybe it’s more than friends.”
Brady shrugs. “We’ll be home in a few days. It can’t go anywhere.”
My attention veers to Layla. I disagree. A few days can change a lot.
Brady’s thoughts follow my own, because he points his chin in Layla’s direction. “What about you and her?”
Layla thankfully doesn’t notice Brady’s attention or hear his question. She’s too busy talking to Tori.
“Nothing,” I whisper.
“You stare at her all the time. She has a boyfriend, you know. ”
Hopefully not for long. “We’re friends.”
Brady snorts. “Sure. Friends.”
“I like Lady,” Sadie pipes up, reminding me she’s listening to every word we say.
“Who’s Lady?” I ask. “The horse?”
Sadie points to Layla. “Lady. She’s nice.”
Oh no. I wonder what tales Sadie will be spreading. I glare at Brady for bringing up the topic.
He smirks. “You’re just friends. What are you worried about?”
When the wagon is full, the driver cracks the reins, and we lurch forward. The ruts in the road jostle us around like apples in a bag. It’s a relief when we finally arrive and my feet are on solid ground again.
Children run around on the playground equipment to the side of the building, bundled up like Jet Puff marshmallow men in their snowsuits. Sadie pulls Brady toward the other kids, and he goes willingly, his book under his arm.
Layla turns in a circle, taking it all in. “I know this place.”
“You’ve been here before?” Tori asks, one eyebrow raised as she looks around. She is not impressed. “Voluntarily?”
“No, not in person, but I definitely recognize that barn. They’ve filmed a few Christmas movies here.” She laughs and points to the corner of the barn. “Right there is where Yolanda and Nathan kissed in A Holly Jolly Christmas Tree Jamboree .”
Besides the movie title being ridiculous, I love how she recognizes the movies being filmed here. I planned the perfect adventure to take her on today.
“Oh, wow.” Layla points at the cut trees to the right. “I’m positive out that direction is where Harrison proposed to Caroline in Christmas Carol Hoedown .” She claps and jumps a few times. “Meg is going to flip! It was one of her favorite movies a few years ago.”
“I am not familiar with any of those movies,” Tori tells her. “They sound fake.”
My thoughts exactly.
“They’re not fake,” Layla says, pretending like she’s insulted. “They’re made-for-TV Christmas movies.”
Tori rolls her eyes. “That explains everything. Who is Meg? Has she been admitted for observation to a psych ward?”
Layla laughs as she backhands Tori’s arm playfully. “She’s my best friend and a Hallmark Christmas movie junkie who will be green with envy when I tell her where I am.”
Just as she did yesterday with the Christmas trees, Layla pulls out her phone and takes dozens of pictures, including a few selfies with her eyes wide and mouth open in shock as she points to different spots. She pulls Tori into a few, and Tori gives her signature fishy lips look, with a slight profile since she insists her left side is more photogenic.
“Will you send those to me?” she asks Layla. “My Insta followers will never believe I’m at a barn with actual horses.”
After sending Tori the photos and taking a few more of the scenery, Layla types into her phone, but then abruptly stops. Her smile fades as she puts her phone back into her coat pocket.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. “Did Meg not like the pictures?”
She shakes her head. “I didn’t send them. She’s with her family this week. I’ll wait until I get home and tell her in person.”
Is Meg’s family what stole her joy?
When she moves into the barn, Tori and I follow. Tori doesn’t notice Layla’s somber mood. She nudges me with her elbow.
“I already have fifty likes. Someone thinks the photos are fake. Ha ha!”
Inside the barn is a country store and a small cafe that sells cocoa, coffee, and donuts. One full wall is filled with homemade wreaths and garlands. Grandmother directs Miles to push her in that direction, and waves for Layla and Tori to follow.
“I need your advice,” she says to them. “We have the whole of the main floor to decorate. We need enough garlands to go up the stair banisters. A wreath on every door. What else should we purchase?”
Layla’s expression lifts as she talks with Grandmother about what to buy and how much. Tori raves about the wreaths and picks out her favorites. Mom and Miles grab coffee. Sadie runs in with Brady following, both of them breathless.
I watch them all, surprised at what I come to realize: We’re a happy family. There have been hints of it earlier this week, but now it’s a fact. I’ve always felt torn between my mom’s family and my family. There was conflict between the two, with me in the middle. When I quit the law firm, I thought they were out of my life forever, except for Tori. Now I see I can have both. Grandmother showed me it was possible in the van earlier; this is more proof.
There must be something in the barn I’m allergic to because my eyes water. Time to find my tour guide and grab Layla for our adventure. I’m even more committed to Operation-Show-Layla-How-Much-I-Care because the only thing I’m missing right now is my own family. As I watch her fawn over pink tree ornaments, I have no doubt she’s the one I want to start one with.