Page 34 of Grinchland
“It’s weird, Daddy,” she said as she swept her gaze around. “These trees were cut down. How’s Ms. Snow going to plant them in her house?” She paused and pointed to the cleanly cut bottom of a Christmas tree.
“She can put it in a bucket of water to keep it for a bit longer, but it will eventually die.” The last few words came out a whisper. I rarely talked about death. It felt like, in a way, I was talking about Nicole. I hated that death was a concept that was already an integral part of my daughter’s life. Not addressing it felt immature, but I didn’t know how to explain to my five-year-old daughter that her mother was never coming home in a way that she would understand, so I just avoided the topic altogether.
When I talked about Nicole, it broke me, so I just avoided it.
Isabelle’s eyes were wide as she studied me. Then her little lip quivered. “So that tree is dying?” she asked as she pointed to the tree at the far end of the line. Its needles were already turning brown and its branches were sparse. It looked like it was placed there to be discarded later.
I wrapped my arms around Isabelle and hoisted her up. I pressed my lips to her cheek before I blew a raspberry in it. “You have such a kind heart,” I said.
She giggled, but there was still a hint of sadness that told me she wasn’t going to be so easily distracted. Thankfully, Clara appeared between the trees with a relieved smile on her lips.
“There you two are,” she said as she started to walk toward us. “I’ve been looking for you.”
For a moment, this whole situation felt right. Clara, looking for us, finding us, and then walking up to us like…we were together. I wondered if this was what it would feel like to be a little family, just the three of us.
I blinked, that thought taking me completely by surprise.
I wasn’t spending time with Clara because I wanted to find a wife for me and a mother for Isabelle. I was with her because she was leaving in a few short months, and I wanted my life to go back to normal once she was gone—preferably before that if I won the wager.
I was spending time with Clara now so I didn’t have to spend time with her in the future. Thinking about us as a family…that was never going to happen.
I forced myself from my thoughts and back to the present. Clara was glancing around, her cheeks flushed, and there was a sparkle to her eyes. “I just can’t decide which one to get,” she said as she blew out her breath.
Her gaze met mine for a moment. My thoughts of us as a family returned, and for some reason, they rendered me speechless. Clara knit her eyebrows together a moment before she turned her attention to Isabelle.
“What do you think?” She leaned in. “Which tree should I get?”
Isabelle was quiet for a moment before she pointed toward the dying one at the end of the row. “The one that doesn’t have friends.”
Clara looked confused as she followed Isabelle’s gesture. “The one that doesn’t have friends?” She glanced back at Isabelle first and then to me.
I bumped Isabelle a few times. She had such a tender heart and I loved her for it. “She’s talking about the one that’s dying.” I nodded toward the brown tree.
Clara followed my motion and her expression softened as she stared at it. A soft smile spread across her lips as she glanced back at Isabelle.
“Is that the perfect one?” she asked.
Isabelle nodded. “I think so.”
Clara paused. “I think so, too.”
Once again, I was rendered speechless. I’d seen Clara’s house. A half-dead Christmas tree was not part of her aesthetic. She lived and breathed the quintessential Christmas experience. Why was she agreeing to this tree?
“You don’t have to get that one,” I assured her.
She shook her head. “Nope. It’s the perfect tree.”
She didn’t stop or look back as she marched off and reappeared with one of the employees who looked like he’d just turned eighteen. He had floppy brown hair and wore sunglasses and a name tag that read Taz.
“That one,” she said as she pointed toward the tree that Isabelle had picked out.
Taz glanced at her like she was crazy. “That one’s dead.”
Clara shrugged. “We want it.”
“It was going to be collected later today to head to the wood chipper.”
Clara stared at him. “Are you saying I can’t purchase this one?”
