Page 24 of The Christmas Mittens
Ah, there it was. Gilda, Lady of Drama and Tender Heart, who would bring in anything that looked lonely. Like the time she was four and came proudly into the house with a shoebox filled with black and white kittens. Only they were skunks. Tiny, thankfully, and unable to spray yet, but skunks just the same. Their mother was upset, obviously, but thrilled to have her kits back. Gilda was crushed, and for a year after that, she carried around a stuffed skunk to replace the “stinky kittens” I’d given back to their mother. Then there were birds, worms, a garter snake, and a small toad. The list was endless. Most went back to nature. Sadly, some of the worms dried out and many tears were shed. A few went to live under the shed like the snake and the toad but not at the same time. Although the toad was five times larger than the skinny garter snake, I wasn’t too worried about Mr. Toad becoming dinner.
“Are we sure?” I asked, crossing my arms over my coat and tipping my head to the side. It would take forever to make thecockeyed tree look straight, if it ever would. “I saw a really nice Douglas fir a few rows over that would look great in the corner.”
“No, I don’t think so. I think this one will appreciate our taking him home and then planting it in the front yard.” She nodded, which, much like Katie, meant the decision was final. So, knowing when I was beat, I shrugged and went to find the man in charge of the live root Christmas tree lot. He was so happy to get rid of the runty blue spruce, he gave us ten bucks off and a free tree spike to use when we planted it after the holidays. Lying on its side, the root ball wrapped in burlap, we pulled away from the lot.
“I like them a lot. Most pine trees have male and female cones, so we should use they and them pronouns for this tree. Do you think they would like the name Titan?”
“Titan?” I glanced into the back of my car at the lilliputian blue spruce. “It’s going to take a lot of fertilizer for that little tree to become a titan of any sort.”
“I’m sure they’ll grow to great heights.” She was so positive that I could not disagree. Perhaps it would tower over our house someday just to prove me wrong. “Can we stop at the coffee shop to get some cocoa?”
“Sure, that sounds great. Then we have to get home to get Titan into a cool corner of the basement for a few days to let him—”
“Them.”
“Sorry…to let them acclimate a little before we cart them into the living room.”
“Okay, we can do that. We’ll get things ready for them to join us for the holidays and my birthday, and then we can plant them outside. Can we dig a hole, do you think?”
“We’ll find out.” I suspected the ground might be frozen slightly, but if I only had to dig an inch or so to get through some frost, I could get a hole dug. “It’s just turned off really cold, so wemight be good. If not, the arborist said we’ll have to keep Titan in the basement and water them throughout the winter until we can plant them in the spring.”
Not exactly what I wanted in my crawlspace-sized basement, but if Titan needed a place to chill until March, then so be it.
“I’ll water them until we plant Titan,” she vowed, so I would hold her to that promise if it came to that. “Are you going to make your double chocolate cake for my birthday?”
“Of course,” I replied with a smile. She nodded happily, already on her phone to relay whatever news needed to be relayed to her friends. Affording the party would stretch our funds, but I wanted to be sure she had the best thirteenth party any girl in Grouse Falls ever had. I’d even splurged on a DJ for the gala event.
“Can we have a small white cake for Belinda? She’s allergic to chocolate,” she asked as I hit the turn signal to pull into The Café Oh-Lay Coffee Shop just outside of town. They were doing a nice business being so close to the various tree farms. I found a slot and pulled in.
“Sure, a white and a double chocolate cake.” She grinned and bolted out of the car, barely taking time to unbuckle fully, and ran into the coffee shop. “Why is she in such a hurry?” I asked no one in particular.
I ambled into the busy shop and inhaled the scent of cocoa and coffee beans. Round tables in green and blue were packed with people enjoying some coffee or tea while out shopping. Many were coming back from the mall on the other side of the New York/Pennsylvania border, I wagered. Gilda was standing by the counter deep in conversation with some young man, twirling her loose hair around a finger, and giggling madly. I’d not met the boy before, but I’d heard lots of tittle-tattle about Mr. Tim Brittans, he of the blue eyes, blond hair, and killer smile. So I assumed this was the man of the year. Tim was making eyes atGilda instead of working, so I swaggered up to the counter and cleared my throat. Both young people startled. Gilda turned red, and Tim, if that was this heartbreaker’s name, flushed a nice shade of purple.
“Dad, seriously, can younotbe so obtuse?” Gilda huffed. Obtuse? How was walking up to a counter considered unable to grasp a simple concept? Did people not order at the register nowadays? Oh, probably not. Probably there was some app. Oh well, tough tangerines.
“Sorry, I just wanted to order some hot cocoa for myself and my daughter,” I replied and gave the young man a stern look that sent him skedaddling to make some hot chocolate as my daughter fumed. “What?”
She rolled her eyes. “Dad, no one just stalks up to the counter. You order from the app, and then they bring you your stuff. It’s like so old to just expect someone to make your stuff before other people’s orders are done.”
“I didn’t know. Where is the menu?” She gave me that DOH look. “Sure, on the app. But what if I don’t have the app on my phone and wish to see what they have here?”
She pointed at a QR-code pasted on the front of the register. “Seriously? They don’t have paper menus?” I glanced around to find at the very least a sign with their menu items, but nope, nothing but QR-codes glued to every table as well as the register. “Can I just say how very much I dislike this whole ‘scan the code to find what you can order’ craze? Digital menus are annoying when you’re trying to compare. They don’t work properly half the time, and I rather like telling a human being my order.”
“Dad, you’re such a dinosaur,” Gilda whispered, shamed to the teeth, before she stomped off to find a table. I stood there like a dunce until Tim brought me my two hot chocolates. He rang me up and pointed at the card reader without saying a word.
“Would you like anything else, sir? Why I don’t know, Timmy, if you are Timmy, since I can’t seem to see a menu unless I have my phone out, which I don’t at the moment, so perhaps you could toss a couple of those cinnamon muffins on our tray as well?” I deadpanned.
The kid seemed confused by my sarcasm, but he did load me up with two fat muffins before adding them to the bill and pointing at the card reader again. I scanned my debit card and got a look of confusion when I didn’t leave.
“You’re supposed to say thank you for coming to our store. Hope to see you again.”
Timmy blinked, mumbled something, and gazed vacantly at me.
I bit back something unkind about the fate of the world and customer service and made my way to the little table in the corner, sat down, and handed Gilda her cocoa and muffin.
“Did you say anything old to Tim?” she asked before I even sat down properly.
“Old? What exactly is saying something old?” I asked because I wasn’t sure if I had or not but assumed I probably did.
