Chapter 10
CHAPTER TEN
Aaron
Mara and I both watch Jenna walk away. “Does she always do a pass like this before locking up?” I ask.
Nodding, Mara says, “Yeah. It’s part of her job, and while it’s definitely time, I also think she wanted to get away from us.
” Facing me, she wrinkles her nose and grimaces.
“Maybe I shouldn’t have pulled the Mom card.
She has a mom already, after all. She doesn’t necessarily want me stepping in like that. ”
I stare after where Jenna disappeared and blow out a breath. “Maybe so.” Glancing at Mara, I raise an eyebrow. “Do you think she’s lonely?”
Lips pursed, eyebrows also raised, Mara turns the question back on me. “Do you think she’s lonely?”
I nod slowly. “I do. I bumped into her the other night at The Red Arrow. I think she was expecting to meet some people, but they weren’t there. Something about a regular Thursday group that goes out?”
Nodding knowingly, Mara sighs. “Sarah and Nora go to that. I know exactly what you’re talking about.
There’s a group of women who go out for a drink on Thursdays after their stores all close for the evening.
It’s mostly business owners from downtown, though I know they’ve had various others who don’t quite fit that description join them off and on since they started a couple summers ago.
This time of year’s so busy, and they all work late during the season, so I think they agreed to wait until January to start up again. ”
“Makes sense.” But no one told Jenna about that change, it seems. No wonder her eyes got misty when Mara said she belongs here.
Saying that doesn’t make her feel a sense of belonging.
And based on what she didn’t say and the fact that I caught her fighting back tears yesterday, someone’s been giving her grief still.
“I’ll get to the bottom of it, Mara. I promise,” I assure her.
She smiles at me, reaching out to squeeze my arm.
“Thanks, Aaron. I meant what I said about her being able to come to me if she needs backup. No, I didn’t jump at all her new ideas—and not even because I didn’t like all of them, I just think we shouldn’t do too many new things at once, especially when she hasn’t even experienced the event as it is yet—but that doesn’t mean I don’t like the energy she brings.
I’d hate to have to go through the process of hiring someone new all over again.
Especially since Cynthia’s fully retired now.
At least with Jenna, Cynthia stayed on to train her and show her the lay of the land here.
She knows all our processes, even if she thinks she knows how to do them better. ”
“Sometimes fresh perspectives show us our blind spots,” I put in. “It might be good to update some of our processes. The world has changed a lot since you and Jake started ChristmasFest.”
She gives me a small smile. “I’m aware. And I agree that we could probably do with some updating. Like I said, though. I think it’s important she sees how things are now before she starts tinkering with things below the surface level like decorations and photo setups.”
“Yeah, I felt that way too. I do think she feels somewhat unwelcome.” I lay my hand on my chest. “And I acknowledge my part in that. I’m doing what I can to change it, though.”
Mara gets a sly look in her eyes. “Good. I’m happy to hear that.
I think if we can convince her to stick around for at least another year, we’ll all turn the corner and find our new normal.
It takes time for all of us to get used to each other, though.
” Jenna reappears around the corner, and Mara squeezes my arm again.
“Thanks, Aaron. Good luck with your trees!” She sweeps over to Jenna, gives her a little squeeze as well.
“Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!” she calls as she leaves, waving over her head.
I can’t help chuckling at her antics, and Jenna moves next to me, both of us watching her leave. “She’s a character, isn’t she?” Jenna observes.
Nodding, I turn to face her. “That sort of comes with the territory, I think. Honestly, I can’t think of a better Mrs. Claus, can you? Motherly, concerned with how all of her elves are doing, always offering people cookies or hot cocoa …”
Jenna laughs. “Now that you mention it, she did always bring cookies to the ChristmasFest committee meetings, didn’t she?”
“Yup. She always does. It’s not Christmas without cookies, and even if it’s a planning meeting in May, we need to embody the Christmas spirit. At least, that’s what she’s always said.”
“I know everyone’s been saying this year wouldn’t be the same without Cynthia”—turning, she points at me—“and I know it is different, at least a little, because I’m the event coordinator this year and not her, but you have to admit that Cynthia’s fingerprints are still all over everything.”
“Yes. Her influence is definitely still obvious, though yours is as well.”
She nods. “Still, I think when Mara Daniels hangs up her Mrs. Claus dress, that’s when the true test of whether or not ChristmasFest can continue like it is will really start. She’s the living embodiment of Christmas spirit.” She narrows her eyes. “Do you think she considers us her elves?”
Laughing, I nod. “Oh, definitely. One hundred percent yes. We’re here to do the work to keep the festival running, after all. We might not build toys, but we definitely create the magic. And while you might be the event coordinator, she’s the one who runs the show.”
“Yeah. I can see that for sure.”
I clap my hands together. “Now. Let’s fix up those trees, then … dinner? Did you decide if you’d let me take you out or not?”
Her mouth opens, and there’s that whisper of hesitation again that makes my breath freeze in my chest. I’ll get over it if she says no, but I’ll be very disappointed.
Closing her mouth, she clears her throat and nods, then offers me a tentative smile. “I’d like that, yes. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” I quip. “By the end of dinner, you might come to regret your decision.”
“Why?” she presses, falling in step beside me as I head for the door. “Are you going to chew with your mouth open and ask rude questions?”
“Guess you’ll just have to find out. Hold the door for me while I grab my supplies, will you?”
“Of course.”
I have to make a couple of trips to get everything I need—the new pots, bags of soil, and a tarp to protect the area where I’ll be working.
Repotting is messy work, and I’d normally do it outside, but it’s about fifteen degrees out right now, and I have no desire to freeze my fingers off while repotting these trees.
“If you have a vacuum, you might want to get that,” I say as I lay out the tarp and move the trees onto it. “I’ll do my best to keep the mess contained here, but there’s a chance some of the dirt will get on the floor.”
She gives me a considering look, then looks at where I’ve set up the tarp. “Can we move it a little more this way?” she asks. “Then it’s just in the middle of an open space. It’ll be easier to clean up if we do make more of a mess than planned.”
“‘Course.” I grab the edge of the tarp and drag it to where she indicated. “This good?”
“Yes. Perfect. Thanks. I’ll go get the vacuum.”
“I’ll get to work.”
She gives me a sunny smile and disappears, and I turn my focus to my trees. “C’mere, lovelies,” I say to them. “Let’s get you a nice new home that’ll have you feeling better again in no time.”
I don’t talk to the trees in front of other people, usually.
Just my mom and Colin, really. It’s a habit I picked up from my dad.
He’d walk me through the trees growing on our property, point out the ones that needed extra attention, and when he’d prune or stake or water or fertilize, he’d whisper to them the same kinds of things he said to my siblings and I when we were sick.
Things like, “There you go. Here’s what you need.
I got you. I’ll take care of you.” I picked up the habit over the years.
When I was a teenager, I’d go out and tell the trees my problems—frustrations with school, difficulties with friends, heartbreak from my first breakup.
I did the same when I came back with Dad’s health in the toilet and then a surprise pregnancy.
The trees are good listeners. And since I’ve started selling potted trees, I talk to them even more, especially when I’m doing things like repotting or adding soil amendments.
Absorbed in my work, I don’t notice Jenna returning until I reach for the second tree and look up to find her standing across from me, watching, a smile on her face.
“What?” I ask, pausing, a grin tugging at my own lips.
She shakes her head. “Nothing. I just …” She rubs her nose like she’s trying to hide her smile which seems to have only grown wider.
“Seriously, what?”
Another shake of her head, her smile going lopsided as she tries to stifle it. “It’s just …” She shrugs. “It’s endearing that you talk to the trees. And … unexpected.”
“Ah.” Mildly embarrassed, I look down and busy myself with the next tree, pulling the pot liner out and rolling it on the floor to loosen up the soil.
Carefully, I extract it, holding it up over the old pot and getting as much of the old soil off the roots as I can before setting it into the new one.
When I reach for the bag of soil, Jenna steps forward. “Can I help? Let me get that for you.”
“Oh, uh, sure. Thanks.” I stand, holding the tree while she drags the bag of soil over. “Here. Why don’t you hold the tree just like this while I add the soil.”
She does as I ask, and we work together really well, making short work of repotting that tree and the one after it. I clean up the mess while she puts the trees in their pots back where they belong, arranging and rearranging the decor around them until she’s satisfied.
I have everything wrapped up in the tarp in a neat package so I can easily carry it out to my truck and hopefully not spill any dirt anywhere.
“Look at that!” she says, when I pick it up. “Not a crumb of dirt. You must be a pro at this or something.” She grins at me.
I return her grin. “Something like that. I’ll take these out to my truck, and then we can do dinner?”
“Sounds great. I’ll come get the door for you then grab my things and meet you outside?”
“It’s a plan.”