Chapter 3 #2
Her stomach fluttered with the kind of butterflies that she’d thought she was long past as she thought about seeing him that night.
She was supposed to be leaving any minute to drive over to the Christmas tree farm and meet up with him to go caroling with a group of friends.
The thought made her chuckle. Even six or so months ago, agreeing to something like that would have been entirely unlike him.
But George had loosened up little by little the longer they were together, and the caroling, while not his idea, had been something he’d agreed to remarkably quickly.
“You seem to be in a hurry,” Vanessa remarked as Mabel popped out of the back room. “Hot date tonight?”
“Actually—” Mabel grinned at her granddaughter. “We’re going caroling tonight with some friends of ours.”
“Caroling?” Vanessa raised an eyebrow, a teasing smirk instantly appearing on her face. “George Lowery is going caroling? The George who plays the same five Christmas oldies in his office and refuses to entertain anything else as a possibility?”
“The very same,” Mabel said with a grin. “Amazing, isn’t it?”
“You must be irresistible to him,” Vanessa teased. “I haven’t even known him as long as you and I thought I’d never see the day.”
Mabel started to go over the day’s bank deposit, but when she glanced at her watch again, she realized she was going to be late if she didn’t leave right then.
“Vanessa?” She looked up to see her granddaughter reading something on her phone.
“Do you think you could finish up the closing duties? I’m going to be late if I don’t head out now. ”
Vanessa glanced up from her phone, her brow slightly creased between her eyes. “What? Oh—of course. I can handle it no problem. Go have fun.”
Mabel frowned. It wasn’t like Vanessa at all to be on her phone at work, even though Mabel could have cared less if she sent a text now and then.
Especially when she knew Vanessa probably wanted to get home as much as Mabel wanted to head out, and whatever she was looking at was only slowing her down.
“Is everything okay?” she asked, a little worried.
Vanessa still had that frown between her eyes.
Vanessa shoved her phone back into her pocket. “Yeah, everything is fine,” she said quickly. “It’s nothing serious. I’m just talking to Jackson about the decorating situation with our house?”
“A situation?” Mabel raised an eyebrow. “Not enough outlets?”
Vanessa and Jackson had bought a gorgeous Victorian over on Birch Street, closing on it just after the wedding. It was in great shape, already mostly renovated, but Mable could see how an old home like that might pose some challenges when it came to Christmas decor.
“Well—” Vanessa tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“You know I love our house. And our street, and our neighbors—all of it. But the thing is, I didn’t realize when we bought it that everyone on Birch Street competes in a yearly house decorating contest for Christmas.
Apparently it’s a pretty big deal—the whole neighborhood goes all out with lights and displays and everything. ”
That was no surprise to Mabel. She’d lived in Fir Tree Grove for a long time, after all, and she knew how popular Birch Street was when it came to their decorations.
All of Fir Tree Grove had a tendency to go all-out for the holidays; the businesses all over town competed with each other every year to see who could have the grandest, most over-the-top display, and it turned the town into a winter wonderland every year.
But out of the residential streets, Birch always took it the most seriously.
Every year, it drew visitors from neighboring towns who came to drive through and admire the displays.
“I didn’t realize that you didn’t know,” Mabel said, a bit sheepishly.
“We used to go walk Birch Street with your parents when you were little at Christmastime. I thought you’d remember,” she added carefully, knowing talking about Vanessa’s late parents was a tender subject.
It was for her too, but she’d learned to deal with her grief much sooner than Vanessa had, and sometimes she knew it was still difficult for Vanessa to talk about them.
“I would have warned you if I’d realized you weren’t aware. ”
“It’s okay.” Vanessa ran a hand through her hair.
“Jackson just isn’t taking it seriously.
Which honestly surprised me, given all the work he puts into the Snowdrift Diner display every year, but he said that’s just part of running a successful business here.
He brought home some string lights for the house and thought that would be fine.
” She chewed her lower lip. “He wants a tree, of course, but I guess he didn’t go over-the-top on his old house.
Just focused on the diner. So it didn’t occur to him that we’d go all-out for our house. ”
“Well, just talk to him,” Mabel said firmly. “I’m sure he’ll understand. He loves Christmas.”
“I know he does. I guess he just thinks that home is supposed to be simpler for the holidays. But we just moved in a few months ago. I want to fit in with the neighborhood. Everyone thought I was this stuffy city girl when I first came to visit, like I didn’t belong here.
I want our house to look like it belongs.
Some of the other houses are already putting up crazy stuff.
Some of it is over the top, and some of it is really gorgeous, and ours is just…
there.” Vanessa sighed, looking at her grandmother.
“I guess this is our first marital conflict. Not bad, as they go,” she added with a small laugh, but Mabel could tell that Vanessa was having a difficult time.
“Sweetheart,” she said, moving to place a gentle hand on Vanessa’s shoulder, “you already belong here. You’ve proven that over and over again.
The whole town adores both you and Jackson.
He’s a fixture in the town, and you’re his wife and my granddaughter, but even if you weren’t, it wouldn’t matter. No one is going to judge you.”
“I know, I just—” Vanessa blew out a breath. “I want our first Christmas in our new house, as a married couple, to be magical too. I want to be a part of our neighborhood, not the one house on the block that looks like they didn’t participate.”
“You’ll figure it out, I promise,” Mabel said encouragingly. “You have time. Figure out what feels right for your house, what fits you and Jackson and how you love to celebrate, and it will all come together. Maybe you just need to come up with some ideas, and he’ll jump on one of them.”
Vanessa managed a small smile, and Mabel could see some of the tension leaving her face. “You’re right. I’m probably overthinking this.”
“Probably,” Mabel agreed with a smile of her own. “But that’s what makes you good at everything you do. You care about getting it right.”
“Thanks, Grandma.” Vanessa returned to straightening the bookshelf. “Go have fun caroling. And tell George I said hello.”
Mabel retrieved her coat and scarf from the back room, wrapping herself up against the wintry chill.
The evening was going to require bundling up if they were going to go from house to house singing Christmas carols.
It was crisp and clear out as she walked to her reliable silver sedan, but there was a bite to the air that promised snow.
As she drove out to the farm, she took in the displays of lights and decorations all along Main Street, Christmas music spilling from her radio and filling the warm interior of her car.
She sighed happily, relaxed and fully ready to embrace everything that the holiday had to offer.
She felt fulfilled and hopeful, and excited for her favorite time of year.
She parked at the front of the Christmas tree farm’s office, seeing that the office light was still on. As she walked in, she saw George stacking invoices, The First Noel playing softly in the background as he finished up the last of the closing duties for the farm.
“Any more pick-ups tonight?” she asked, and he looked up, a crooked smile appearing on his craggy face at the sight of her.
“No, last one was—” He coughed, thumping his chest. “Last one was a half-hour ago.” He coughed again, sniffing, and that was when Mabel noticed that the wastebasket next to the counter was full of tissues.
She narrowed her eyes at George. He looked a little pale all over but flushed in the cheeks, and she noticed when he looked up at her that his eyes were a bit glassy.
In fact, he didn’t have his usual energy, she thought.
George could be grumpy, but he ran a tree farm and was a handyman at heart; he always had plenty of energy for tasks and was in excellent health most of the time.
“Are you all right?” she asked concernedly. “You don’t look like you feel too well.”
“I’m fine—” George was interrupted by another coughing fit, and Mabel put her hands on her hips. When the coughing subsided, he looked at her sheepishly. “Okay, maybe I’m not entirely fine. I think I might be coming down with something. I’ve been feeling off all day, but—”
“Well, then you need to go home,” Mabel said firmly. “You should have gone home earlier. What are you even doing here, if you’re this sick? Look, head home, and I’ll bring you some chicken soup, and—”
“I had orders to fill,” George said gruffly. “Couldn’t just abandon the place for the day.”
“You need to be in bed with some hot tea and soup, not out here in the cold selling Christmas trees,” Mabel said firmly.
“And what about tonight?” George coughed again, reaching for a tissue to blow his nose.
“I know how much you were looking forward to caroling.” He frowned, and Mabel could see that he was genuinely sad at the thought of their plans being canceled.
“I don’t want to ruin your evening,” he said, more gently this time, and Mabel shook her head.
She was touched that he was so worried about ruining their plans. It was thoughtful and sweet of him, but right that moment, she was far more worried about him.
“George,” she said gently, “there is absolutely no way you’re going to be singing tonight, and I’m certainly not leaving you alone when you’re feeling this poorly. I’m going to take you home and make sure you have everything you need.”
George blew his nose. “But the caroling—”
“Can happen another time,” she finished firmly. “Everyone will understand. Come on. Let’s get you home and get some soup on the stove.”
As they made their way slowly toward George’s truck, Mabel couldn’t help but feel a small pang of disappointment about the change in plans.
She had been looking forward to the caroling, getting to walk through the neighborhoods arm-in-arm with George and share a joyful night with their friends.
It would have been another of those perfect moments that she’d been collecting since they’d started their relationship.
But, as she helped George into the passenger seat and took the keys to drive him home, she knew that her disappointment was fleeting.
Any time with George was a blessing, even sick time.
After all the years she’d spent alone, after all the years that she’d thought there was no place for romance in her life and that they’d only ever be friends, all the moments they had together were precious, not just the ones that they made an event out of.
This was special too—the fact that he was letting her take care of him.
The old George would have sent her away, insisting he could take care of himself and didn’t need anyone fussing over him.
But this George—her George—leaned back against the headrest and gave her a grateful smile that made her heart flutter despite his obvious illness.
“Thank you,” he said quietly as she started the truck. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, Mabel Stewart.”
She reached over to squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth of his fever through his skin. “We both finally saw what was right in front of our faces all along,” she said with a smile. “And stopped pranking each other long enough to see that there was more to our relationship than just silliness.”
George chuckled, then immediately started coughing. Mabel made a mental note to stop by the pharmacy on the way to his house to pick up some cough drops and whatever else might help him feel better.
As they drove through the twinkling lights of Fir Tree Grove toward George’s cozy house on the edge of town, Mabel was happy that they were together for the evening, regardless of the reason.
There would be more holiday festivities, but taking care of someone who meant so much to her was an opportunity to make a different sort of memory.
And every memory with George was one that she wanted to make, regardless of what it was.