Chapter 7 Taylor #2
“I’ll just grab us a large,” Roan says, unaware that I’m practically having a religious experience here. “Pepperoni okay?”
“Very okay,” I tell him.
“Hey, Roan,” the guy behind the counter says with a smile.
“Gabe,” Roan says, nodding.
“What can I get you?” Gabe asks.
“Large pepperoni to go,” Roan says. “And two Cokes.”
“Coming right up,” Gabe says, winking at me as he rips the order off his pad and heads to the ovens.
Roan frowns.
Is he… jealous? Does he not like Gabe winking at me?
No, I’m being ridiculous. Of course that’s not it.
Gabe is back a moment later with two paper cups. He fills them with ice and soda and then hands them to Roan.
“We can sit while we wait,” Roan says to me, pointing to a booth.
I take the side that looks out the windows onto the town. There’s a small TV in the corner that’s showing the local news and weather. Unsurprisingly, they’re calling for more snow.
“Do you ever get used to it?” I ask Roan as he sits down.
“To what?” he asks.
“You know,” I say, waving around. “This. The nice little town where people know your name, the pretty snow, the ambiance.”
His eyes pass over the paper Santa and reindeer hung on the wall and he shrugs.
“You’re not into it?” I guess, taking a sip of my Coke. It’s so cold and sweet, and the bubbles go to my head.
“This town loves Christmas,” he says.
“You don’t?” I ask, horrified. Who doesn’t like Christmas?
“It’s our busiest time at the farm,” he says, shrugging.
“So growing up, everyone else at school was watching Christmas movies at home and baking cookies and planning vacations pretty much as soon as Thanksgiving was over. But it wasn’t anything like that at our house.
My parents love it, but for me… I don’t know. ”
“A lot of work?” I guess. “A lot of pressure?”
“Both,” he says, nodding. “And it kept me good and distracted, especially the year that Erica left.”
It’s all I can do to keep my mouth closed. He has to be talking about his ex. I nod, and hope he’ll go on, but he just clams up and looks around like he thinks there might be spies here. Or like he’s embarrassed to be having a personal conversation with me.
“We spent time with my grandparents during the holidays,” I say, hoping to cheer him up by changing the subject.
“They’re in Florida in a retirement community, but that never slowed us down.
We would just go down for a week or two.
Until I started working, at least. It’s been a few years now since I’ve seen them in person. ”
“You call though, right?” he asks me, his brow furrowed. It’s clear that family is important to him.
“Yeah, of course,” I tell him. “I’m actually planning to give them a call tomorrow and let them know how it’s going here.”
“What are you going to tell them?” he asks, leaning forward like he actually cares about the answer.
“That I’m excited,” I hear myself reply. And I’m happy to find that it’s true. “The shop is going to be great. And I love the town. And… my landlord and his daughter have been super helpful.”
“You’re really going to tell them that?” he asks.
“Why not?” I say. “Unless you’re worried about getting a reputation as a softie. Were you thinking of buying some investment properties in a fifty-five plus Florida condo?”
He laughs, and I instantly love it. It’s a deep, husky sound coming straight from his belly that makes me feel good right down to my toes. I wish I could bottle it up and save some for later.
“Roan,” Gabe calls out from the counter. “You’re all set.”
We get up and Roan slips a couple of bills into Gabe’s hand.
“Keep the change,” he says lightly as he takes the pizza box.
We head back out into the night together. The flurries have stopped for now, and the sky is darkening into a deep velvet blue. Stars peak out here and there through gaps in the veil of clouds.
The town is so beautiful with its twinkling holidays lights that I feel a pang in my chest. I’m missing my family, but also wishing for the Christmas I pictured having as an adult, with a family of my own, and a dog and a cat, and a great big Christmas tree.
I know my career is important, and all those things can come later.
But time has been passing, and I’m still no closer to it.
Maybe I’m even farther away out here in the mountains.
But Roan had all that, and now he’s on his own again.
“Erica left because you were busy during the holidays?” I hear myself ask.
I wish I could suck the question back in. From the way he got so quiet before, I know it’s not something he wants to talk about.
“Not just because of that,” he says after a moment.
“She always wanted to live in the city, to have a life as she said. But Meg came along when we were pretty young, and there’s not much call for Christmas tree farmers in the city.
I could provide for us comfortably here, nothing fancy, but I could give us a home and what I thought was a good life.
I just overestimated what that meant to her. ”
“Do you regret not leaving Angel Mountain?” I ask him.
“I used to,” he admits softly. “I used to think that if I’d listened to her and we’d gone to the city, maybe she would have been happy, or happy enough to stay with us.”
“Why didn’t you?” I ask him.
“A lot of reasons,” he says. “My family needs me here. The farm is too big for Dad to run on his own and Buck doesn’t really want to be farming forever. Me leaving would mean realistically that the whole thing needs to be sold.”
“Wow,” I say, nodding. That’s not a small consequence.
“And I know I don’t make a big thing out of it,” he says, looking a little worried.
“But yeah, I do love it here. And no, I don’t get used to it.
Especially when it comes to my daughter.
You don’t really see it, since she’s so into the books, but Meg is a quiet kid.
It helps her to be in a familiar place with people who look out for her and don’t try to make her into something she’s not. ”
It’s kind of a narrow view of his daughter, but I appreciate that he wants to protect her. I guess that’s a parent’s job after all.
“I think Meg would be fine just about any place in the world,” I tell him. “But I also can’t really think of a nicer place than this one.”
He doesn’t look at me, but when I glance up, he looks more relaxed now. His shoulders are down a bit and the hard angles of his jaw aren’t rippling like they do from time to time.
“Thanks,” he says. “It’s hard to have perspective sometimes. I just want the very best for her. But it can be tough to see the forest for the trees.”
He gives this funny little smirk.
“Roan Connelly,” I say. “Did you just make a tree joke?”
“Maybe,” he says, smiling. “I guess you bring out my silly side.”
We head back toward the bookshop, and I’m feeling hopeful for reasons I can’t fully explain.