Page 18 of OMG Christmas Tree
CHAPTER SEVEN
Megan
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“HOW WAS TOURING THEtown with the mayor’s son?” Mom asked the second my boots came off.
Ah. The familiar sensation of immediate questioning upon entering the house. How had I forgotten? I held out the store bag. “Tree stand acquired.”
Mom hugged me again. “I’m so glad you’re here, honey. Once your brother gets in, everything will feel so right.”
Okay, so I needed to let go of the crabby pants attitude. I smiled back. Feeling right sounded appealing. Derek had his work cut out for him.
Moving past the entryway, I stopped cold. “Whoa.” The tree, laying on its side across the formal front living room, took up all the walking space in the room. Branches crushed against the edge of the couch. Two chairs were moved to the side and a coffee table into the hall.
No wonder the thing knocked me off the road.
“It’s...big.” Mom kept her voice light. “Maybe a touch smaller would have been plenty.”
Stu strolled in. “Diane, it’s perfect.” He moved to Mom’s side and gave her a sweet kiss on the cheek. “Glad to have you for the holiday, Megan. I imagine you’re hungry.”
Weirdly enough, I was starving and hadn’t noticed. I typically lived on an eating-every-two-hours schedule. I was a girl who liked her snacks.
I handed him the tree stand and followed Mom to the kitchen, edging around the tree and keeping a bit of distance from the wild I’d brought into their home. Yikes.
Mom reheated a roasted vegetable casserole, which I ate with gusto. I missed this. My own cooking was a mix of take-out and recipes off Pinterest I used too many substitutions in to taste right.
After eating, Mom and I took on the task of decorating. Familiar boxes sat stacked on the living room floor now that the tree stood upright. Gentle piano music of a holiday classic drifted from speakers I couldn’t see.
Mom slid a box with a bright pink lid toward me. “Look. Your childhood ornaments.” A fadedMeganwritten in permanent marker ran across the side.
I unclipped the plastic lid. AWhere’s Waldofigurine faced up with a Santa hat. Waldo’s top lip showed an added black mustache.
Dad put that ’stache on Waldo. He’d said it would help his hiding tactics. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and gave Waldo a prime spot on the front of the tree.
We fished through the boxes, hanging every ornament. Our family legacy covered half the tree.
“Space them out, dear.” Mom climbed the small three-step ladder Stu brought out and attempted to fill the top branches.
I stood back, taking in the view of the tree. What a weird tradition, decorating a live tree indoors with trinkets. Did anyone ever stop and think about this rationally?
Stu sipped coffee out of a Green Bay Packers mug. “Needs more lights.”
“Maybe a few billion more.”
