6. Carter #2
His head fell against the headrest. Lord, give him strength, or he was going to leave her here with the damn Christmas trees. He jumped from the driver’s seat and headed toward Ashley, who was already appraising trees like it was an auction at Sotheby's.
Glen spotted him immediately and called out a hello with a wave.
Carter left Ashley to her wandering and turned to the man he had known the majority of his life.
More gray had crept into Glen’s beard over the years, but the easy smile was a constant.
Glen was fifteen years older than him, married, two kids, two dogs, a cat and a guinea pig, and he never looked happier.
“I didn’t expect to see you here,” Glen said as he approached, holding his hand out in greeting. “You already got your tree.”
Carter shook his hand. “The Wetherbys are back at Winterridge this year.”
Glen’s eyebrows shot wide. “I never thought that would happen again.”
“Me neither, but here we are.”
“Do you want two ten-footers like old times?”
Carter’s eyes drifted to Ashley, who was circling the lot like a lost Christmas caroler, unsure of the lyrics, unsure of the key, but determined to succeed.
Even when she was unsure, Ashley never did anything half-assed.
He faced Glen. “Yeah, two ten-footers. One for the main hall, the other for the east wing. She’s just… making sure the spirit of Lily Wetherby approves.”
Glen chuckled. “She always did have an eye. Lily, I mean.”
“Yeah,” Carter said, eyes still following Ashley. “She wasn’t the only one.”
Glen gave him a knowing look, then clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll get ‘em prepped and ready for delivery. You just try not to lose your sanity.”
Carter offered a dry smile. “No promises.” He nodded toward the little red shop. “Send me an invoice. You still have my email on file.”
“I should.”
He slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a business card, handing it to Glen. “I’ll pay it as soon as it hits my inbox.”
Glen let out a low whistle. “Look at you all fancy now.”
“Not fancy, just convenient.”
“So the gold edges are for ‘convenience’?”
“No, that’s to meet Mr. Wetherby’s standards.”
“Enough said. I’ll email you the receipt.”
“Great. Thanks a lot, Glen.”
“Any time, Carter.”
He started toward Ashley, who was now squatting to inspect the bottom branches of a Frasier fir like it was being judged for a magazine spread. She looked over her shoulder at him, a sharpness in her eyes.
“This one’s got a bare patch. We’re not taking a tree with a bald spot.”
“We’re not taking anything,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I was paying and leaving. You’re the one who turned this into a Hallmark movie.”
Ashley stood, brushing snow off her tights. “I just want to get the best trees. Grandma Lily had the best trees.”
Her lip trembled, and a glassy sheen appeared in her eyes before she blinked it away.
Without thinking, he took her hand and squeezed. His gloves were too big for her small, delicate hands. “I know,” he said. “And we’re going to get the best two trees on the lot. Your grandma trusted Glen. Now it’s your turn to trust him.”
“I’d feel better if I could meet the man.”
“Then why didn’t you say that?”
“I…”
“If you had waited for me, instead of wandering off to inspect trees like the head gardener of Rockefeller Center, I would have introduced you.”
“Whatever, now is just as perfectly good a time as any.”
She started toward the red barn where Glen had disappeared to, and he hurried after her, falling into step beside her.
Glen stood behind the counter, thumbing through a Rolodex before stapling the gold-edged business card in place.
“Glen,” Carter said, and Glen’s head popped up.
“Forget something?” he asked.
“I wanted to introduce you to Lily Wetherby’s granddaughter, Ashley.”
Glen stepped out from behind the counter, slipped off his glove, and held his hand out to Ash. She didn’t hesitate to shake it. “Ms. Ashley, it is a pleasure to meet you. You resemble your grandmother. She had the same glint in her eyes.”
“Thank you for saying that. I miss her.”
Carter’s hand found her shoulder before his brain could stop it. He gave it a gentle squeeze, then let it fall away.
“I just wanted to meet the man who was in charge of picking out the Christmas trees for Winterridge,” Ashley said, her voice softer now, but steady. “It was one of her favorite traditions. She made it feel like magic.”
Glen’s expression sobered with what appeared to be respect. “Your grandma made everything feel like magic. Picking out her trees was an honor. Still is.”
Ashley’s throat bobbed as she swallowed, her hand resting lightly in his. “Then I trust you’ll pick the perfect ones again.”
“I always do,” Glen said with a warm smile. “And now that you’re back, you can carry that tradition on.”
Her lip curved slightly. “We’ll see.”
Carter noted the way her shoulders relaxed, how the tension in her jaw eased. He knew that look and knew what it cost her to let her guard down, even for a moment.
Glen gave a quick nod and stepped behind the counter. “I’ll make sure they’re wrapped and delivered by noon.”
“Thanks, Glen,” Carter said, gently steering Ashley toward the exit.
They stepped outside into the biting morning air, their boots crunching over the snow. For a few long seconds, neither of them spoke.
“You were right. About Glen,” Ashley finally said.
Carter shot her a look. “You say that like it doesn’t happen often.”
“It doesn’t.”
He smirked. “Still good to hear.”
Ashley tucked her chin into her scarf and stared out at the rows of evergreens. “I didn’t think it would be this hard coming back.”
He nodded. “Me either.”
And just like that, the silence between them shifted. It was no longer heavy with tension but filled with something else. Something not quite forgiveness… but maybe the first step toward it.