Page 15 of The Christmas Keepsake
“Yeah. I’m good. Just tired.” He’d been working extra hard on the construction crew these last couple of weeks knowing that he would be running Pop’s Christmas Tree Farm after Thanksgiving. Matt always worked Hollis harder right before the holidays. Hollis suspected it was payback for him helping Pop at the farm. If not for Hollis, Pop would probably have had to sell a long time ago. As he’d gotten older, he couldn’t do the heavy lifting, and every year he’d relied more heavily on Hollis.
“You’re tired, and here I am bothering you with yet another thing to add to your to-do list.” Mallory flashed a guilty grin.
“You’re not bothering me. In fact, now I have something to look forward to.” Maybe that comment was a little too strong. Yeah, he’d always had a crush on Mallory that he tried to keep in check. He knew nothing was ever going to happen between them and didn’t want to make things weird. “I love the thrill of the hunt for the perfect tree.”
“Who would’ve thought the reformed bad boy of Bloom would turn into a regular Saint Nick? Certainly not me,” she said honestly. “If you remember, you weresupposedto play Mr. Claus when we were fifteen.”
“Oh, I remember,” Hollis said with a frown. “I’ve been regretting fumbling that opportunity most of my life.”
Mallory gave him an unreadable look. “I can find you a role in this year’s play if you want.”
“Nah. I’m good staying behind the scenes.”
“Okay. Well, thank you again, Hollis. I guess I’m one of those people who owe you now. If there’s any way to repay you.”
“Not necessary.” Pop’s voice played in his head. Hollis cleared his throat. “Actually, maybe there is a way you can repay me. Any chance you’ll be attending the dance at Memory Oaks next Friday?”
Her smile faltered. “I was considering it. Are-are you going too?”
Why was he so nervous right now? Sweaty palms and everything. “Pop asked me to go.”
She watched him, her eyes sliding back and forth across his face, as if reading him like a book. “You mentioned me repaying your favor?” she asked.
“Yeah. Uh, Pop seems to think I should, uh, discuss dog poop with someone.”
Mallory burst into quiet laughter. “You want to talk about dog poop at the dance?”
“It’s kind of a metaphor. And it would make Pop happy, which makes me happy.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and lookedaway because looking at Mallory was making his words jumble. “So, if you were to go to the dance next Friday, maybe we could show the older generation how to bust a move.”
Mallory laughed again, giving him the kind of confidence that only came from making a woman laugh. “Bust a move and discuss dog poop. Wow, I’m not sure I want your help with the tree anymore,” she teased, heading down the porch steps. “Just kidding. See you tomorrow, Hol. Have a good night.”
“Night.” He watched her get into her car. Then he walked back inside, where his Hot Pocket was waiting for him. And Buster was on the other side of the glass back door, watching Hollis with large brown eyes. His tail wagged at the sight of Hollis, which Hollis took as progress. A couple of laughs from Mallory and tail wags from Buster. He must be doing something right these days.
Chapter Five
I regard the theatre as the greatest of all art forms, the most immediate way in which a human being can share with another the sense of what it is to be a human being.
—Oscar Wilde
If Mallory could bottle up the smell of a Christmas tree farm, she would. And maybe she’d sell it and not have to worry about affording Nan’s healthcare or selling off the theater.
“Hey, you,” Hollis said as he approached the gate to Popadine’s Tree Farm.
Mallory felt her insides light up like the festive bulbs around the business’s welcome sign. “Do I look tree-farm-ready?” She laughed lightly, angling her body from side to side. Proper attire was jeans, boots, and flannel, preferably in a bright red or green check print.
Hollis dutifully ran his gaze from her face to her boots. “You’re the poster child for a tree farm customer.”
Mallory glanced around as she walked beside Hollis. She’d worked a nursing shift early this morning at six until early afternoon. Then she’d gone home, taken a quick shower, and changed. “I hope all the good trees haven’t been taken.”
“Good ones?” Hollis slid her a look. “Don’t let the trees hear you say that. You might hurt their feelings.”
“Oh.” She lowered her voice. “I’m sorry.”
He started chuckling. “I’m joking.”
“Oh.” She laughed nervously. “Well, I’ve heard some say that the trees respond to us.”
“They do,” Hollis confirmed. “I convinced Pop when I first started helping out here on the farm. We began playing cheerful holiday music, and I swear the trees were brighter and more vibrant.”
