Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Jenna
Nervous energy bubbles inside me as I put the vacuum away then hurry back to my office to grab my coat and purse. Aaron’s surprisingly nice and easy to be around when he’s not trying to make my life difficult.
Sighing, I put my coat on and wrap my scarf around my neck, tucking it into my coat before buttoning it up.
Then I pull out my gloves. It’s cold out tonight.
I’ll need the extra layers. It’s colder here than where I grew up on the coast. Even Salem didn’t regularly get this cold.
I can see how the cold and regular snow here makes it perfect for this kind of Christmas festival.
It’s postcard-perfect with the lights in the trees and decorations on the picturesque downtown.
Add a layer of snow? You feel like you should be in a Hallmark Holidays movie or a magical snow globe.
We had the first snow earlier this week.
Just a couple of inches—some of the locals say that’s just a skiff, but I disagree—so not too much, but enough to make everything beautiful and covered in a layer of white.
It hasn’t snowed again since, but it’s stayed cold enough that the snow hasn’t melted.
“Okay, you can do this,” I mutter to myself.
Sure, Aaron talks to his trees, which is adorable, but I talk to myself.
“Don’t mention the issues with his son’s mother.
Follow his lead about talking about his kid.
” It’s been ages since I’ve gone on a date at all, and I’ve never dated a dad before, so this might be interesting.
“You had a nice time talking at the bar. Just be normal, and you’ll be fine. ”
Pushing my way through the doors into the event space, I do one quick check of the exterior doors, making sure everything is locked up, but cognizant of the fact that Aaron’s waiting for me. I don’t want him to freeze before we even make it to dinner.
When I reach the main door, I let it close behind me, giving it a tug to make sure it’s locked, then turn to find Aaron standing next to his truck right by the curb, a small smile playing on his lips.
“What?” I ask, aware that I’m repeating our earlier conversation in reverse when I was watching him with the trees.
He shakes his head. “Nothing.”
I narrow my eyes. “Oh, it’s like that, huh?”
His grin grows wider, and he nods once, his signature economy of movement. “It’s exactly like that. Ready for dinner?”
“More than ready. I’m starved.”
He opens the door for me, and I climb into his truck, noting that the seats are heated and he has them turned on along with the heat going full blast. It’s warm enough already that I take off my gloves, making it easier to buckle my seatbelt, but I leave my scarf and hat firmly in place.
I’m sure I’ll want them as soon as we get where we’re going.
When he climbs in, he turns the heat down a little so it’s not so loud and buckles his seatbelt before pulling smoothly away from the curb. This time of night, there’s not very much traffic, so it doesn’t take us long to get to a restaurant on the edge of town. “Have you been here before?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No. I’ve mostly stuck to the downtown area restaurants since I moved here.
Cynthia took me out once somewhere in Inglewood shortly after I started.
She said she wanted us to celebrate but didn’t want us to be constantly interrupted by people wanting to get a look at her replacement. ”
Aaron chuckles. “That sounds like her. She’s as much of a fixture here as the Daniels, and when she announced her retirement, it caused quite a stir. Half the town was convinced that the event would go off the rails without her.”
“Well, I’m not sure I’ve managed to convince them otherwise.
According to some people, the ribbons being a slightly different color is on par with blasphemy.
Watch out,” I tell him, mock serious. “We’re all doomed to hell now because the velvet ribbons are a couple shades darker red than the old ones that were falling apart. ”
He screws up his face. “I’m not sure we’re all going to hell. Just you, I think.”
That surprises a laugh out of me. “Well, you’re consorting with the enemy now, so you might be joining me.”
He sighs. “True enough. I’ll be sure to give my regards to Lucifer when we get there.”
I giggle, and he grins at me, turning off the car. “Wait right there,” he says, and I give him a quizzical look, but he hops out of his truck before I can ask what he means.
I undo my seatbelt, but before I can reach for the door handle, he’s opening my door and holding out a hand to help me down.
His hand is surprisingly warm given how cold it is tonight, his grip firm as he clasps my hand.
I almost don’t want to let go of him, and he seems a little reluctant too, holding my hand a few seconds longer than necessary once I’m out of the truck.
Then he gives me a soft smile, releases my hand, closes the car door, and holds out his arm to me. “M’lady,” he says.
I can’t help laughing. Who would’ve thought gruff Aaron Farrell, one of my several nemeses on the ChristmasFest committee, would be cute and silly?
I settle my hand in the crook of his elbow and let him lead me to the door to the restaurant.
It has log cabin styling on the exterior, complete with hewn-log benches flanking the front door.
Twinkle lights and greenery decorate the rails and columns leading to the door with large velvet bows dotting the places where the garland is attached.
A large wreath hangs from the door, and it smells fresh and piney.
“The Haven’s been a longtime customer of Farrell Farms,” Aaron says as we reach the door.
I look back at the garlands and wreath again. “These are all yours?” At his nod, I smile. “You’ve really got the corner on the market here, haven’t you?”
He chuckles, pulling the door open and letting me precede him. “I do. We have for years. And I’m not about to give that up to let someone from Inglewood take over my market share.”
Biting down on the smile that rises to my lips, I glance at him over my shoulder. “Has someone been trying to carve a chunk out of your tree and greenery market share?” I ask, making my voice as innocent as I can.
He glares at me. “What was with that, anyway? Do you have a problem with my trees and garlands?”
Sighing, I face front so I can roll my eyes without him seeing.
“That wasn’t personal. I’ve told you more than once that I thought it would be good for both the festival and the community to spread the love.
You can’t possibly provide trees to the entire county, much less the people that come from out of town to experience the magic of Arcadian Falls at Christmas.
You and I both know that people come from all over to visit and enjoy what we have to offer—including your tree farm.
But I’ve been to visit your farm. I know you only have so many trees per year you can offer to customers.
While you’ve done a great job of diversifying your offerings and making it a whole experience, people still want trees.
If they can’t get them from you, what’s wrong with letting them know where else they can go? ”
“Farrell Farms has been supplying ChristmasFest for nearly two decades. We’ve been the only supplier.
If we can’t keep up with demand, we raise prices.
And if we really can’t manage it, I’ll be sure to let you know you can contact the farms from Inglewood.
But ChristmasFest is an Arcadian Falls tradition.
And while people come from all over the area—and beyond—they come to Arcadian Falls.
Not just the Arcadian River and Arcadian Lake valley.
This is put on by the town to benefit the town.
That’s why we prioritize local businesses in our planning.
If someone has a business here and wants to participate, they get to.
Only after everyone here has a spot do we open up to the surrounding area.
That’s one of the founding principles of the event. Of everything we do, really.”
I’m still biting my lip, but not to hold back a smile.
This level of passion is attractive. I can see now why he’d view my suggestion as not only a threat to his business, but also to the integrity of the event.
I clear my throat. “I realize now that I made an error in making that suggestion. I honestly wasn’t trying to undermine either the founding ethos of the event or the benefit to you or any other Arcadian Falls business.
” I hold up a finger. “I will say, though, that I still think we need everyone to meet the minimum standards to have a booth at the event. I know the majority of vendors will agree as well. We don’t want cheap, crappy junk you could buy for less online polluting the event.
That will devalue the whole thing. Why would people bother coming if they could just stay home and buy the same thing for less? ”
He stares at me for a long moment, his dark eyes intense.
Then he dips his chin in a nod. “I’ll concede that much.
But once the minimum standards are met, Arcadian Falls businesses, large or small, should get top priority.
” One corner of his lips curve in a small smile.
“I will say, though, that your ability to secure a sponsorship from Banks Family Dentistry was impressive. Dr. Banks is a notorious snob, despite the fact that he’s lived here for his entire adult life and raised his daughter here.
They think of themselves as the wealthy benefactors of the whole valley.
Cynthia never could stand the man, so she didn’t adequately cater to his ego to get him to participate.
I see your pride hasn’t gotten in the way of your ability to schmooze. ”
I give him a quizzical look at that, but before I can say anything, the hostess clears her throat, and I realize she’s been waiting for an opening to interject for a while. Turning to her, I give her an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. We’re listening now.”
She returns my smile, looking relieved. “Just the two of you?”
“Yes,” Aaron says. “I have a reservation under Farrell.”
“Of course, Mr. Farrell,” she says, grabbing two menus in padded folders. “Right this way.”
She leads us to a table near a large window.
I’m sure during the day, the view would be lovely, tucked up against the woods like we are here.
“You can normally see the edge of the lake over there,” Aaron says, pointing at the window.
“If it were light out, I’d insist you sit on this side so you could see it better, but at this time of night …
” He shrugs. “There’s not much to see right now. ”
“This still seems like a lovely restaurant,” I say, smiling at the hostess.
“Mia will be your server tonight. She’ll bring you water in just a moment. Enjoy your meal.”
“Thank you,” Aaron murmurs, and I nod, opening the menu but not looking at it.
“I have to say, I didn’t find Dr. Banks to be difficult to work with at all. He didn’t seem that insufferable.”
Aaron laughs. “Oh, well as long as he wasn’t that insufferable. Such high praise.”
Burying my smile in my menu, I shake my head. “Okay, fine. Now that you mention it, I did pick up on his snobbishness and the way he thought he was doing everyone such an enormous favor by paying a few hundred dollars to get his business name included in a couple of places.”
“See? That’s standard. If you’re not the target of it all the time, I can see how it might not be that noticeable. But it can grate after a while.”
“I can see that.” Laying my menu down—I’m getting the beef stew with a small loaf of fresh bread on the side—I prop my chin on my fist. “What else do I need to know about this town?”