Page 35 of The Christmas Cottage
George gave him an odd look. “Another tree? You starting a farm of your own? That’ll be the fourth one this year. I know you love Christmas, but?—”
Jackson chuckled. “There’s a good reason for it, I promise.”
George shrugged, that confused expression still on his face. “Well, sure,” he said. “You can come out and pick any tree you like. Come back the day after and pay, if you want. Fine with me, I know you’re good for it.”
“Thank you,” Jackson said enthusiastically, grinning. “I really appreciate it.”
“No problem.” George shook his head. “Go on and get your tree for the house, before it gets to be closing time.”
Jackson nodded, heading back out into the brisk chill to go and get his tree for the house. He planned on decorating it thatnight, but he knew his mind was going to be buzzing with ideas for the date he had planned now.
He couldn’t wait to see Vanessa’s face, once she realized what he’d put together for them. He knew she was going to love it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Late Sunday afternoon, Mabel finished her tea in the little nook in the kitchen, marking her place in the book she’d been reading before heading upstairs to help Vanessa finish getting ready for her date. Vanessa had asked for help with her hair, and Mabel had been more than happy to say yes. A little emotional, even, because it had been years since she’d gotten to do something as familiar as help her granddaughter do her hair. It felt like she was getting something back that she’d been missing, a bit of attachment that she’d lost. And she knew that it was a step forward for Vanessa too, to ask her at all.
That, and the fact that she was getting ready over at Mabel’s. Mabel had already heard about the date, of course, in between customers while she and Vanessa worked together at the shop. Vanessa had admitted that she’d opened up to Jackson a little about her past, about her parents’ death and how she’d walled herself off afterward, and it had been clear that she was nervous about having said so much. She’d been worried that it had been overwhelming, that she’d dumped too much on someone she barely knew, but Mabel had firmly told her that she was proud of her. And she was. She knew how hard it was for Vanessa to openup like that, and she was immensely proud of her granddaughter for it.
The fact that Vanessa had said she’d bring her things over and get ready at Mabel’s cottage after lunch told Mabel that Vanessa was more than a little nervous about the date. Which made sense, of course. As did the conversation they’d carried on as Mabel had made maple-mustard chicken sandwiches and a green salad with dried oranges and poppy-seed dressing for them, insisting that her wrist was fine and the chicken was already cooked anyway, so all she really had to do was assemble things.
Vanessa had talked at length about what she’d need to do and catch up on when she returned to San Francisco, the most she’d talked about it in days, and Mabel had a feeling it was her way of reminding herself that she was, in fact, going back. That even if this date with Jackson went wonderfully, there was no point in getting too invested, because she was leaving.
Personally, Mabel wished that Vanessa would let herself be a little more open to the possibility of change, to the potential of her future going differently than she’d imagined it. But she knew it was a lot, to wish that her granddaughter would uproot her life and start over somewhere not completely new, but far enough removed from her life now that it would just about feel that way.
She pushed the wish away, as she reached the top of the stairs, and knocked at the door of the bathroom.
“I’m just about ready,” Vanessa said, opening the door to let her grandmother in. She was wearing dark jeans and a soft angora sweater in a dusty rose color, her makeup soft and light. “Jackson texted me earlier and told me to dress warmly, and to wear pants.” She shrugged. “I have no idea what he has planned, but I’m glad I brought two outfits over, because I was going to wear a sweater dress.” She gestured at the camel-colored, cable knit dress that was now hanging from the back of the door.
“I think you look lovely,” Mabel said firmly. “Do you have a warm enough coat?”
Vanessa nodded. “And gloves. I bought some the other day. And boots that are better for the snow, so I think I’ll be fine.”
“Good.” Mabel nodded approvingly. “What do you want to do with your hair?”
Vanessa ran her fingers through the long auburn strands. “I’m not sure. I was thinking a French braid. That’s why I asked for help—I’ve never been able to do that myself. But then I realized, with your wrist, maybe it wouldn’t be a good idea?—”
“Nonsense. I can manage a braid.” Mabel pulled out a chair from the vanity on the other side of the large bathroom and moved it so that Vanessa could sit down in front of her. “I’ll have it done in no time, and tight enough that it won’t get messed up under a hat either. You need to keep your ears warm out there,” she admonished, and Vanessa laughed nervously.
She thought that her granddaughter looked beautiful, if a little too done up, probably, for whatever Jackson had planned. Vanessa was wearing rose gold eyeshadow, thin black liner done in a soft cat eye, and mascara, with a rosy lip. She looked ready to go out for drinks in the big city, not go tromping around in the snow, which was what Mabel suspected Jackson had planned in some form or another.
But maybe that was part of the attraction, Mabel thought. Vanessa was different from anyone Jackson would meet in Fir Tree Grove. She was from the small town, but also had been shaped by somewhere else, familiar and not, all at the same time.
“I’m really nervous,” Vanessa blurted out, as if she’d heard Mabel’s train of thought all this time. “I kind of wonder why I agreed to the date.”
“And why is that?” Mabel asked, expertly crisscrossing pieces of Vanessa’s hair. “You like spending time with him, right? I’ve seen the two of you together. You seem to get along great.”
“That’s part of the problem.” Vanessa bit her lip, and Mabel could see the reflection of it in the mirror. “I do like him. He’s different from anyone I’d meet in San Francisco, but I haven’t really metanyonethere. He’s calm and relaxing to be around and feels safe. But the fact that I like him is a problem in and of itself. I have my life back there, in San Fran.” She started to shake her head, then froze so she didn’t mess up the braid. “I shouldn’t get attached to anyone. That’s only going to feel bad for us both when I leave.”
“You’re thinking too far ahead,” Mabel said firmly. “You should just enjoy tonight, Vanessa. Enjoy the date. A nice, handsome man wants to spend some time with you, and you want to spend some time with him. That’s all this needs to be. If you’re leaving, that’s fine too. You can just enjoy yourself. Not everything needs to be planned out and accounted for. You can just let go a little.”
She put one hand on Vanessa’s shoulder as she said it, holding the braid with the other, and Vanessa reached up and covered Mabel’s hand with hers. Mabel felt her chest warm, a sense of comfort washing over her at the moment of closeness with the granddaughter who had been gone from her life for so long.
“You’re right,” Vanessa said after a moment. “I should try to relax. It’s just… I haven’t relaxed since before college.” She laughed self-consciously. “I feel like I need to relearn how… and then I feel like a crazy person, for not just being able to let go and let things happen like everyone else.”
“We all struggle with it,” Mabel assured her. “It’s just that some people are better at pretending that they don’t than others. But we all have things we cling onto and that we have a hard timeletting go of.” She finished off the braid, wrapping a small elastic around it. “There you go. All done.”
Vanessa smiled, standing up, and she turned abruptly to hug her grandmother. “Thank you,” she said. “For the help with my hairandthe advice.”
