Page 69 of Holiday Hopefuls
Jewelry.
“Uh, do you know the last time I bought jewelry for a woman that wasn’t Mom?”
Her light blonde brow furrows. “When have you ever bought Mom jewelry?”
“Never, but that’s kinda the point,” I say, panic rising in my throat. “This is so far out of my wheelhouse, it’s not even funny. Besides, Callie doesn’t even wear much jewelry.”
My sister giggles, shaking her head. “Then it’s a good thing I’m with you, oh brother of mine.” Looping her arm through mine, she drags me from case to case. Watches. Earrings. Engagement rings. Each display only leads to more confusion.
What kind of jewelry do you buy your fake girlfriend that you don’t really want to admit you wish was your real girlfriend?
Wave after wave of confusion hits with each new stone that comes across my field of vision.
Then, I see it.
Blythe gives me an approving smile, so I call over the nearest available sales associate. Pointing at the case, I say with full confidence, “That one.”
Callie throws openthe passenger door before I can even send a text that I've arrived. The woman may be covered with fleece, fur, and any other fabric to help keep her warm, but she looks stunning. Minimal makeup and hair thrown up into a wild messy bun completes the look that says she’s comfortable in her own skin. Her bright eyes find mine, a full grin on display.
The tension in my body dissipates the moment her sweet smell fills my car. “Hello, beautiful,” I say.
She blinks rapidly, blushing as I lean across the console to press a kiss on her cheek. “Oh, um, hi.” Flicking her eyes back toward the building, she nods. “Good thinking. Mrs. Martinez was watching. Now, she can corroborate our story, if asked.”
My smile drops before I can stop myself, but I manage to replace it almost as quickly while pulling out of the parking spot. “Yep, that was my plan. How was the last day of school?”
The Christmas tree farm isn’t far from Callie’s apartment, which is nestled on the north side of town. The drive goes by quickly while she tells me all about how a little boy named Alex tried to stuff a red bead up his nose instead of doing the craft project, how Emily tried to make a run for it with a handful of candy canes, and how a boy named Jack incorporated several boogers into his art project, which his parents are bound to love and cherish forever. But when we make the final turn into the farm, the woman in my passenger seat goes silent.
Being careful not to run over anyone trying to find some holiday joy, I risk a glance her way.
Eyes wide and lips parted, Callie leans forward as far as the seatbelt will allow. “Oliver,” she breathes, “this is amazing.” Her gaze follows every family we pass, toting their chosen tree tothe main area where it will be shaken and baled, ready to have plenty of holiday memories made in its presence.
Spanning over ten acres, coming to Benedict Family Farms has been a tradition for our family ever since I’ve had a Serenvale Springs address. The various sections are home to different types of trees, whether it be Douglas firs, white pines, or blue spruces. At the center of the entire operation are pony rides, face painting, a little cobblestone restaurant and a barn gift shop to round out the holiday experience.
Finding a spot near my parents’ car is pure luck, but I’ll take what I can get.
“Need me to carry anything?” Callie looks over eagerly from the passenger seat. Her grin is infectious.
“Nope.” Reaching into the back seat, I grab an extra scarf and hold it out, my cheeks warming. “I, uh, stashed this for you. Just in case.”
Callie takes the offering, turning it over in her hands once, then twice.
Tilting my head, my lips tip down in confusion. “You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to,” I offer.
“It’s not that,” she says, securing it around her neck and inhaling deeply. After which she undoes the scarf she’s already wearing and holds it out to me. “It’s not fair for me to wear something of yours that smells so good. So here, this will make us even.” When I hesitate, she leans forward and ties it around my neck. “There,” she says, satisfied.
A hint of chocolate invades my senses, mixing with the cold air and smell of pine as we climb out from the car.
Traveling down the walkway and into the section housing the blue spruces, Callie looks this way and that, not wanting to miss a single thing.
In a moment of bravery, my hand swings through the air and catches hers on its pendulum motion.
Her hand immediately squeezes mine in return, sending electric currents straight to my chest.
The dazzling woman beside me beams as the Edison bulbs strung up flicker to life in the late afternoon hour. Falling snowflakes appear iridescent as they trickle to the ground around us. Couples, families, and determined singles pass us by, all too busy creating their own holiday memories to notice us.
“I can’t believe how many people are here,” she says, looking down another row.
Tilting my head toward her, my lower lip pushes out. “Hm. Have you never been here before?”
