Page 62 of Noel I Won’t
There were murmurs of interest and appreciation.
“Next, we’ll be bringing out a French onion soup with caramelized onions, followed by sausage apple pies and then the main course of pomegranate-glazed short ribs in a bed of creamy polenta with honey-roasted parsnips and a warm winter salad of butternut squash and beets served over fresh greens.”
“Ooh, sounds fancy,” Mrs. Rhodes said with a chuckle.
“We’ve got the vegetarians covered, too,” I went on. “We’ll serve butternut squash stuffed with spinach, pecans, and cranberries.”
“Sounds delicious!” a young woman in her thirties said.
“We’ll finish off the meal with sticky toffee pudding. Enjoy.”
“Thank you, Noel,” Kevin said.
I turned away, then stopped and turned back. “Oh, and don’t worry, we’ve prepared something kid-friendly for the munchkins over there.”
I retreated from the space, exhaling shakily as I left. Hopper was waiting, eyes bright.
“Well?” I asked. “How did I do?”
“Pretty sure they’re impressed,” he said.
“Well, let’s see if they’re still happy once they actually start eating.”
He leaned past me, watching the group. “Well, they’re currently moaning over that bacon-and-brie thing like it’s a full-on orgy in there, so I think you’re safe.”
“Shh!” I grabbed his arm and dragged him farther from the door with a laugh. “Let’s not eavesdrop.”
I turned to head back to the house, but Hopper stopped me. “Do you have a minute before you get back to the kitchen? I know you’re busy, so if you don’t, it’s okay. I just wanted to show you something.”
I mentally reviewed the status of all my meal prep. The ribs had a few minutes more in the oven before I would need to shred them. The salad and soups were already prepped, and Mom would keep an eye on the roasting vegetables.
“Okay,” I said. “As long as we don’t take long.”
Hopper took my hand and led me around the side of the barn away from the house—toward the entrance of the tree farm. The six Christmas trees that had featured in our decorating contest glowed with lights to either side of it, making a nice entry for tonight. I would have been impressed with myself if that was intentional, but it was a happy accident.
But as we got closer, I saw more than the trees.
“Hopper…” I said, my heart climbing into my throat.
An arbor stood at the center of the trees, wrapped in red ribbon and white fairy lights—even better than the old one that had been there throughout my childhood.
He led me closer, until we stood beneath it, and I gazed up at the twinkling lights. “It’s beautiful. How…”
“I made it in the workshop over the past couple of days. Assembled it while you were busy in the kitchen.”
I shook my head. “You didn’t have to do that. You’ve been worried about your dad, and you’ve got a tree farm to run, and?—”
“I wanted to make you happy,” he cut in.
It was such a simple, heartfelt answer that I went onto my tiptoes and cupped his face, thumbs stroking his soft beard. “Thank you.”
He met me in a soft, lingering kiss. My eyes burned behind my closed lids. Why did I have to meet such a great man now, here, away from my life in Chicago?
But then, would I have ever found the time to meet him, much less appreciate a gesture like this, with my hectic work schedule? It only could have happened here.
The days were ticking away toward Christmas. Toward the end of our time together, only…how could I walk away from this?
Hopper, my parents, this farm—it had all begun to feel like home again. More than Chicago ever had.
