Page 75 of Christmas in Chestnut Ridge
“I know. You’re so competitive. If you don’t win a trophy, you’ll be kicking yourself, though. But don’t worry. I’m rooting for you.” She giggled until she snorted. “Get it. Rooted. Plants?”
He grimaced. “I got it.” She was known for her silly puns and that laugh. The unapologetic snort could be incredibly annoying on someone else, but it was entertaining coming from her. “You’re right, but if we don’t win I guess it’ll just be because it’s someone else’s turn to take home the prize. I’m practicing being a good sport.” He thought about Natalie, Amanda, and Sheila’s tree. It would be nice for them to win. Sheila would really get a kick out of that.
“I know you dig hanging out with me and my buds,” she said, with a wink and a nod to a bucket of rosebuds, “but what did you really stop in for?”
He shook his head at the second gardening pun.
“Oh, I have to ask about you and that woman you were with last night. Let’s be mistletoe-tally honest here, Tucker. Y’all looked like you were more than just friends racing up the bleachers.”
“You saw that?”
“I did. Oh, quit your blushing. You deserve some fun. All you do is work. You’re going to waste the best years of your life alone. You should share them with someone.”
Tucker bristled, unprepared for the teasing. “How much do I owe you for the therapy session?”
“On thegreenhouse. So can I sell you some mistletoe? Seriously, that was a hint. I have some.”
“No. I don’t need mistletoe to get a kiss. Do you ever run out of those jokes?”
“Never. Ask Gary. He’s heard them all.” Her graying hair bounced across her shoulder as she shifted her weight. “At least twice.”
“I’m just looking for something kind of simple. Nice, but not overly romantic. You know, more like for friends.”
“All you want is friendship with that pretty woman?” She folded her arms. “Seriously, Tucker. Get with the program here.”
“She goes back to the city after the holidays. It’s just dinner between friends, and I want it to be special, but not assuming. No pressure. You know what I mean.”
“Whatever you say.” She raised her hand in a wave as she turned and led him to the back of the store. “I’m not here to judge.”
That’s not stopping you from preaching on about it.But he really didn’t mind.
“I’ve got all kinds of great holiday live plants. It makes it nice because they last. Amaryllis, poinsettia—”
“Everyone does that. I wanted something kind of different.”
“The paperwhites are gorgeous. They can be a little fragile, but if you mix a one-to-seven vodka-water drink to give it a little nip each day, those things will stand up nice and straight. Probably do the same to that gal too.” She ran her hand across her nose, laughing. “Or, I’ve got these bundles of Fa La La La Lavender. Grew them myself. And check out this Christmas ribbon. Is it not absolutely gorgeous?”
He thought about Sheila’s reference to lavender in her sheets.
“I think I’ll steer clear of the vodka tip and take the Fa La La La Lavender.” Then he pointed to the ribbon. “Not the fancy ribbon, though. I like the one with the hand-drawn snowmen and snowflakes on it.”
“Excellent choice. Fun and not too fancy.” She shuffled through the bound lavender until she was satisfied with one and then took it to the counter.
Greta pulled a shiny pair of scissors from her apron pocket and snipped the edges of each stem of lavender. The aroma lifted into the air as she pulled a green rubber band around the bunch, and then in one fluid movement, as graceful as a bird, she tugged a length of ribbon across a yardstick screwed to the table and cut it to length. In just a moment, she’d tied a flowing bow with long sweeping tails, each one with a V as sharp and slender as the tail of a barn swallow.
“What do you think?” She eyed it carefully, then turned and smiled. “I like it.”
“I do too. Thank you.”
She walked him over to the register and rang it up for him. “Need a bag to skulk back to your house covertly? Wouldn’t want people thinking you might be interested in someone. Like we aren’t already.”
“That would be nice.”
She pulled out a plastic bag, then tucked it back in the drawer in favor of a paper bag with handles. “This will do better. You don’t want to crush my pretty bow.”
“Thatisthe best part,” he said.
“Thank you, Tucker.” She tucked the flowers into the bag. “You might share with her that she can grow some of her own lavender by gently shaking the seeds from the dried flowers and planting them.”
