Page 68 of Perfectly Complicated
“We can get the smallest tree they have,” Janie says for the third time since we pulled up. That red coat she’s wearing shouldn’t work with the pink in her blonde hair—but somehow, on her, it does.
After we park, I unbuckle Aria from her car seat. “Janie, Aria deserves more than a Charlie Brown tree.” Then I turn to the baby girl who looks just like her mommy. “Don’t you agree, Aria? Tell Mommy you deserve the best.”
Janie props a hand on her hip as I come around the car, holding Aria. “She’s ten months old, Rourke. She’s not going to remember this.”
“For the rest of her life, she’s going to look at family pictures ofher first Christmas. And you know what she’ll see? That tree.” I tug the bear hat down over Aria’s head, the same hat Janie bought her in Santaville. “These will show up at her graduation party, family reunions, even someday when she’s showing her grandchildren.”
Janie looks at me and lets out a sigh that tells me I’m impossible…andright.
We move through the first row of trees, Aria in my arms, while Janie stops at each one to inspect it.
“What do you think of this one?” she asks, circling a short evergreen that’s not much to look at.
“Underwhelming at best.”
She walks on to the next one—a squat tree that’s lopsided. “How about this one?”
“Definitely not.”
She turns to me. “They can’t all be terrible, Rourke.”
“Honestly, I can’t explain it. But if we’re going to get a tree, I only have one rule.”
“What’s that?”
“Go big or go home.”
Janie laughs, shaking her head as I lead her toward a row of taller evergreens. As we wander past tree after tree, Janie defends every scraggly underdog while I point out the ones that are too sparse or just plain ugly. That’s when I notice she’s not just smiling, but really laughing. And the crazy part is that I’m enjoying it too. Which is something I never thought I’d say about anything involving Christmas.
As I breathe in the smell of pine, I realize this is the kind of tradition that makes you understand why people love the holidays. Or maybe it has nothing to do with Christmas, and everything to do with the woman beside me.
“What about this one?” Janie stops in front of a misshapen tree that’s marked twenty percent off with a yellow ribbon.
“Janie.” I lift an eyebrow. “Are you stopping here because thistree’s on sale?”
She shakes her head. “No.” But the guilt on her face tells me I’m right.
We head down a few more rows near the photo booth where families are taking pictures in an old sleigh.
“How about this one?” I say, stopping in front of an impressive white pine that’s almost seven feet tall with a trunk like a telephone pole. It would certainly make a statement.
Janie stares at it. “It’s huge.”
“It’s perfect. And this time, I’m not just saying that. Look at this base—” I hold up the bottom branches. “Solid as a rock. This tree isn’t going anywhere.”
“Are you sure? It’s not too much, is it?” She looks unsure about the enormous tree.
I take her hand and squeeze it gently. “This Christmas is all about giving you new memories. And no one loves Christmas more than you.”
She thinks for a moment before nodding.
A few minutes later, after handing off Aria to Janie, I’m on my knees, working the saw through the trunk. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Janie stealing glances at me before she holds up her phone.
“Enjoying the show, Bennett?” I finally ask, looking at her with a grin.
She furrows her brow. “What show?”
I go back to sawing. “Tell me, what exactly are you thinking about while I’m out here being rugged and manly?”
