Page 20 of Merry Little Sugar Rush
“Do you put up a tree? Back home?”
I swallow hard and meet her gaze. “I’m usually too busy to worry about it.”
She gasps so loud, I swear you could hear it in the next county. “What?” She starts marching away toward a section of Fraser fir trees.
“I’m sorry, Easy-Bake, but December is one of my busiest times. I usually work fourteen to sixteen hour days, and sometimes more right before the holiday.”
She’s already shaking her head, looking so fucking cute in her stocking cap and annoyed, shocked face. “No excuse, Burkey Turkey. I can’t believe you don’t put up a tree.”
I sigh as she turns into one of the rows and starts scanning the trees. “If I’m being honest, it’s never felt very Christmassy there. I mean, it’s South Carolina. It rarely snows, and if it does it’s gone before you can truly enjoy it. The landscape is just different there.” I don’t tell her how much I hated the first few Christmases there. I missed Snowflake Falls, at least during the holidays.
“But on the other side, we have beach season.”
Joy sticks out her tongue. “Beach season. Gross.”
I bark out a laugh. “It’s not that bad,” I assure her.
“It sounds terrible,” she retorts, stopping in front of a tree. “This is the one.”
I look at what she’s pointing at and nod in agreement. “It’s pretty ugly.”
She giggles the sweetest sound. “It is. That’s why it’s perfect.”
“All right,” I reply, dropping the rope and reaching for the handsaw in the bucket attached to the sled.
She doesn’t say anything as I lie down on the snow-covered ground and get into position. With saw in hand, I start to cut.
“When Eve and I were little, we’d spend what felt like hours finding the perfect tree. We wanted the perfect fullness, the perfect height, the perfect coloring. We wanted everything…well, perfect. Then we both got older and decided that these less than perfect trees deserve love too. I’ve definitely had my fair share of Charlie Brown trees over the years.”
“Coming down,” I holler as I cut through the trunk and give the tree a shove away from where I’m lying. Hopping up off the ground, I make sure the saw is put away and smile when I realize Joy has already spread out the netting to wrap the tree.
Once the saw is secured in the bucket, I pick the tree up off the ground and place it in the middle of the net. I quickly get her selection wrapped up and on the sled, ready to transport back to the pay hut.
“So, I was thinking,” Joy starts, as we make our way back.
“About?” I ask when she doesn’t continue.
“What are you doing after you get off work?”
“Nothing,” I tell her, thinking about later tonight. I know Gram will be back at some point, but I was hoping to relax and have a beer. Even though I knew I was in for some manual labor, I never expected to work so damn hard this weekend. The level of respect I have for my grandparents—especially my grandpa, who is still working the front line of the farm—tripled now that I’m here and doing the job.
“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to come over. For dinner.” And then she seems to quickly add, “As a thank you for helping me with the tree.”
Suddenly, all thoughts of relaxing with a beer tonight fly right out the window.
We continue walking, and I nod to an excited family of four on their way to find a tree. “We don’t close tonight until six,” I tell her when the others have passed.
“I know it’s late, so if you don’t want to, I understand.”
I open my mouth to reply, but we’re suddenly surrounded by people. A little boy comes running up to Joy, throwing his arms around her legs and squeezing. “Hi, Miss Joy!”
“Hello, Alton, how are you?”
“Dood! I come get a tree!”
“Me too,” she tells him, pointing to the wrapped tree on our sled.
“Bye!” he hollers, taking off running to an older woman and man who look really familiar.
