Page 42 of Noel I Won’t
CHAPTER 16
HOPPER
Noel chosea Scotch pine for the house, and after we got Gray and Emory loaded with their Douglas fir, we hauled it into the living room.
The Scotch was prickly, but it didn’t shed many needles and had long been a favorite of Maggie’s. Noel was a smart cookie.
Ed watched us wrestle it into the stand, Noel cursing when the needles stabbed the palm of his right hand.
“Got a gap between two of those branches,” Ed said, leaning forward to examine it closely.
We exchanged a look because Noel had helped his dad with the tree farm for years and still knew how to pick a tree. He’d recited all the fun facts his dad had taught him over the years while we carried it back. For example, the Balsam fir was the most fragrant but dried out quickest, the Douglas fir was fuller but required lighter ornaments not to weigh down the boughs, and the spruce varieties dropped more needles.
But even if he hadn’t remembered, I was right there to second his choice.
Maggie shook her head. “Ignore your father. It looks beautiful. Thank you, sweetie.”
“I was just giving him a hard time.” Ed straightened with a grunt and slapped Noel on the shoulder. “Good choice, son. If Mama’s happy, we’re all happy.”
“That was the goal,” Noel said teasingly.
Now that the tree was in the house, there was no danger that Ed would venture out and overexert himself, so we went back to work.
The plan was to decorate the tree that night, but Ed nodded off in his recliner after dinner. The next evening, we had a last-minute customer who held us up past dinner. And on Tuesday, we really had to get that storage room cleared out for the wreath-making workshop.
Once the boxes and clutter were gone, Noel grabbed some wood polisher and wiped down the handcrafted pine table until it was gleaming.
“It’s going to look great for the workshop,” he said. “Thanks for your help.”
I nodded, gazing at the space. The room was part of a barn, so the ceilings were high. Rustic wooden rafters crisscrossed twelve feet over our heads.
The table in the center of the room was impressive, built in the trestle style with bench seating instead of chairs. It was designed as a long farm table to feed a crew, so it sat eight people per side.
The space was a bit rustic, but people liked that these days…
“What are you thinking about so hard over there?” Noel asked.
I shook my head. “Nothing, really. My friend Kevin was looking for a place to host an anniversary dinner party for his parents.”
“A dinner party?” Noel glanced around the room. “Here?”
“Well, everything is booked up because it’s close to Christmas. I think he also liked the idea of you cateringit. I…might have mentioned how amazing your food was at Thanksgiving dinner.”
Noel looked pleased. “Oh, did you brag on me? Before we even hooked up.” He tsked. “You mustreallylike me.”
“I do,” I said seriously, not willing to lie, even to play his flirty game.
Noel bit his lip, making me want to kiss him again. He assessed the room. “It could work for a party, as long as it wasn’t too big. The table could seat sixteen. There’s room to bring in a kids table, maybe, or a bar. But you couldn’t accommodate a lot more.” He turned to me thoughtfully. “If they were up for renting a pavilion, though, it could be done outside. We’ve got those heaters we use in the shop.”
“Yeah, but their anniversary isn’t until December nineteenth. You’ll be long gone.”
“Oh.” His face fell. “I guess they could get it catered.”
I shook my head. “Pretty sure everyone will be booked up. We can’t do it without you, Noel.”
His eyes met mine, a shine of regret to them. “Maybe…I could stay a while longer.”
“But that’s nearly Christmas?”
