A Carol Christmas (12 page)

“I know,” I said. “But you always told us kids we had to share.”

“Yeah, well, do what I say, not what I do.”

“Very profound.”

“I thought so. In fact, that calls for a drink. I stocked up on sugar plum tea. Want a cup?”

I nodded. She started to get up, but I said, “You stay put. I’ll get it.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Mom said.

I pushed her back. “You’ve had a hard day photographing fat in the larvae stage. I’ll get it.”

As I went to the kitchen I pondered the significance of my conversation with Mom. Maybe I could mine some gold out of this visit home and act as a peacemaker for my parents.

I thought of the events and outings that lay ahead. Helping Mom and Dad reach a domestic peace accord would be my consolation for the myriad of trials and embarrassments that were a natural part of a Hartwell holiday.

We were still sitting on the couch when Keira popped in, laden with shopping bags. “This is it,” she announced. “All my Christmas shopping is now officially done.”

“And with three days to spare,” Mom teased. “What a woman.”

Just then my brother came in behind her. “I’m doing better than Ben,” she said, nodding in his direction. “I don’t think he’s even started.”

“Started and finished,” he retorted, shrugging out of his coat. “I shopped on the Internet.”

Keira looked scornful. “Boring.”

“Easy.”

“You miss all the smells and sounds of Christmas,” Keira said.

“Yeah, and the crowds.”

She shrugged. You couldn’t argue with that.

“So, what’s for dinner?” Ben asked.

“Chocolate,” said Mom.

Half his upper lip rose in disgust the same way it used to when we were kids and Mom announced spinach was on the menu. “Chocolate!”

“Mom and Aunt Chloe are working on their gift line for Valentine’s Day,” I explained.

“You’re buying chocolate for that now? Does it last that long?” he asked.

“We only needed it for the picture that’s going on our new mug,” Mom explained. “I’m too tired to cook. I’m just going to take a pizza out of the freezer.”

Ben whipped out his cell phone. “I’ll do better than that. I’ll order us one.”

“Bennett Hartwell, that’s a complete waste of money when I have a perfectly good pizza in the freezer,” Mom said. But she said it half-heartedly.

“The stuff you get from Amore Italiano is always better,” Ben said.

“No pepperoni,” Keira reminded him.

“I know, I know.”

An hour later, we lay around the living room, the nearly empty cardboard delivery box out on the dining room table.

“I should have made a salad,” Mom said.

“Pizza doesn’t need anything but Pepsi,” Ben told her, raising his can. He took a big swig, then let out a belch.

“If all your screaming fans could see you now,” I told him.

“Guys gotta be guys,” Ben said and upended the can over his mouth.

Mom just shook her head. “Before you get any more comfortable, you’d better go get our tree. I heard on the radio that it’s supposed to snow tonight, and the tires on your truck are practically bald.”

“They’ve been predicting snow all week,” Ben scoffed.

I noticed he didn’t argue about the tires, which didn’t exactly make me excited to go tree shopping in the snow with him.

“It hardly ever snows in Carol,” he said. “At least not enough to stick.”

“It’s supposed to this time,” Mom said.

“Okay, okay.” Ben stood up. “Come on, girls. Let’s go cut us a tree.”

“Maybe we should go to the Boy Scouts’ tree lot,” Keira suggested. “That way we’d be sure to beat the snow. Anyway, I heard some of my customers at the coffee shop talking this morning. People at that end of town have been seeing a cougar.”

“Don’t be dumb,” Ben told her.

“I’d rather be dumb than dead,” she retorted.

“Something from the Boy Scouts’ tree lot would be fine,” put in Mom.

Ben favored us all with one of those looks men give women when they think we’re acting like an inferior species. “No self-respecting cougar is going to hang around Grandma’s Tree Farm and risk having Ned Tuttle take after it with his rifle. Anyway, they avoid humans, and this time of year there’ll be all kinds of humans running around Grandma’s. Most of them will probably be a lot scarier than any cougar.”

Keira headed down the hall.

“Where are you going?” Ben called after her.

“To get my pepper spray.”

“Oh, brother,” he said in disgust. “I’ll meet you guys at the truck.”

Ben went to the garage to scrounge an ax while Keira got her weapon and I got my jacket.

“Here, take a scarf,” Mom said, draping a tatty old knitted number over my neck. “Have you got mittens?”

I held up my black leather gloves.

“You’ll ruin those if you get pitch on them,” Mom cautioned.

“I don’t plan on touching the tree,” I said. “That’s what we’ve got Ben for. ”

Keira was back now, bundled up in a baby blue ski jacket, a gray felted hat on her head.

“Be careful,” Mom said, like we were soldiers going off to war.

Keira held up her can of pepper spray. “Don’t worry. We’ll be fine.”

“You aren’t planning on getting close enough to anything to use that, are you?” I asked.

She shrugged. “No, but I like to be prepared. Anyway, if something jumps at us, get behind me.”

“Okay, Davy Crockett,” I teased.

Ben was already in the truck and gunning the engine. We piled in, Keira first.

She wrinkled her nose. “This truck stinks.”

She had that right. It smelled like a cross between a prison and a barnyard. “What have you been doing in here,” I asked, “butchering hogs?”

“Just farting,” Ben said amiably.

“I’m buying you an air freshener for Christmas,” Keira said. “Thought you were done with your shopping,” he teased. “For you I’ll make an exception and buy one more thing. Roll down your window, Andie.”

“I wouldn’t roll it down very far,” Ben cautioned. “The heater’s broke.”

“I think I prefer to freeze,” I decided, and let down the window.

Keira rolled her eyes. “We should have taken my car. We could have strapped the tree on the top.”

“This is easier. We can throw it in the pickup bed.”

“We always get noble fir,” I said, surprising myself that I had an opinion. What did I care what kind of tree we got?

“Noble fir it is, then,” Ben said, “in honor of Andie’s return.” He looked past Keira and shot a smile at me. “Kind of like killing the fatted calf.”

“Except I’m not a prodigal son,” I reminded him.

“Nope, you’re a chick. Same principle.”

I didn’t think it was the same at all, but I kept my mouth shut.

Grandma’s Tree Farm was a mile outside the city limits. We followed Main and were there in under fifteen minutes.

It was getting colder, and the air smelled like snow. We hadn’t had a decent snowfall in Carol in years, and, for some weird reason, I found myself wishing we would get one.

A smattering of cars dotted the parking lot. Ned Tuttle, the owner of Grandma’s, was posted next to a shed at the entrance, which was marked by a couple of giant crossed candy canes. Beyond that stretched the tree farm itself, a manicured forest of trees raised and carefully groomed for holiday star performances in living rooms all over Carol.

I caught sight of a couple of kids wearing bright parkas darting in and out among the rows, followed by a man who was probably their father, and remembered trips out here when we were kids. Going to Grandma’s had always been an adventure, filled with high excitement as we cut the tree and even more excitement when we got home and realized it was too big to fit through the front door.

“Evening,” said Ned as we approached. He nodded approvingly at Ben. “I see you remembered your ax.” “We’re ready,” Ben assured him.

Ned stuffed a wad of tobacco into his cheek. “Got some oversized trees toward the back. If you take one off my hands, I’ll give you a deal on it.”

“Sounds good,” Ben said.

“ ‘Don’t worry, Mom,’ ” Keira taunted as we trooped toward the back of the tree farm. “ ‘I’ll pay for the tree this year.’ ”

“Hey, I’m going to pay,” Ben said.

“You’re going to get something cheap and awful,” Keira predicted. Not such a far-off prediction, since Ben was a typical broke musician and on a budget.

“There’s nothing wrong with looking at the bigger trees,” Ben told her.

“I’ve got some money,” I offered.

“Ben’s paying,” Keira said. “We settled this before you came.”

“That’s right,” Ben said. “So give it a rest, Keir.”

She sighed dramatically and trooped after him, and I fell in step behind her. Something wet landed on my nose. And then another something, a delicate, white something.

“It’s starting to snow,” I announced. Cutting down a tree in a snow-speckled tree farm—it sounded romantic, and I couldn’t help feeling a little excited by the prospect (as long as we got back before the roads got too slick for Ben’s bald tires).

“Great,” Keira muttered. “If the cougar doesn’t get us, we’ll freeze to death. “Come on, Ben. Any one of these trees would be great.”

“Quit whining,” he told her. “We’re almost there.”

It wasn’t hard to tell when we’d reached the bargain tree section. They were all hugely oversized.

“These aren’t Christmas trees,” Keira said in scorn, “they’re mutants.”

“I think they’re kind of cool,” Ben said. “One of these babies would really fill up the living room. What do you think, Andie?”

I thought it would not only fill up the living room, but after that it would go on to take over the world. “I don’t know,” I said.

Keira shook her head. “It’s too big.”

“Hey, we can always cut it down to fit,” Ben said.

I studied the tree. “You could be cutting till midnight.”

He grinned and elbowed me. “Come on. Side with me. Don’t let the baby push us around.”

“Oh, ha, ha. Like anyone ever listens to me,” Keira complained, and Ben and I grinned. She was grinning now too, until she got a sudden look of fear on her face. “What was that?” She pointed into the darkness.

Ben looked over his shoulder. “What was what?”

Keira jiggled her finger. “Over there. I saw something.” “I suppose you saw a cougar.”

“It could have been. It had four legs and a long tail, and it was big.”

“A dog,” Ben said in disgust and went to work with his ax. Keira didn’t say anything, but she moved closer to me and took out her can of pepper spray.

“Put that away,” I said. “You’re liable to spray us by accident.”

“We need some protection.”

“No, we don’t. We’ve got Ben and his ax.”

“I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” Ben said, chopping away at the tree trunk.

“You wouldn’t see anything happen to us,” Keira argued. “And by the time you got the ax out of the tree it would be too late. We’d be torn to shreds.”

“No you wouldn’t. You’d be rolling around on the ground with the cougar chewing your arm, just like in the movies.” “But she’d be spraying it with pepper spray,” I teased.

“Spraying herself, more likely,” Ben muttered.

“I really saw something, you guys,” Keira insisted.

“It’s okay,” Ben said calmingly. “Anyway, we’re done.” He gave the tree a push and it toppled. “You guys grab the top and the middle. I’ll take the base.”

I realized I should have taken those mittens Mom offered. I might have known Ben would pick a tree no man (except maybe Paul Bunyan) could carry single-handed. I stripped off my gloves, stepped behind my brother, and shouldered a chunk of tree.

Keira pocketed her weapon and gingerly picked up the tippy-top, and we set off with our find.

We took up all available space as we made our way through the tree farm, forcing other customers to dive for safety. If we were crowded out here in the open air, I hated to think what would it be like back at the house.

“That’s some tree,” called a man stationed a few feet away by a cute little blue spruce.

“Trade you,” Keira called back.

“No, thanks.”

“That’s the tree I wanted,” she grumbled.

“This one’s bigger,” Ben said, stating the obvious.

“Bigger isn’t always better,” Keira informed him.

“That’s a nice tree you found,” approved Ned Tuttle when we got back to his shed. He turned and shot a stream of tobacco juice into the bushes.

“Eew,” Keira said under her breath.

“Yeah, we got a good one,” Ben said. “How much do I owe you?”

Ned eyed the tree and named a bargain price.

“Great,” Ben said gleefully.

While he was digging in his wallet, Ned asked, “Didn’t see any cougar out there, did ya?”

“I think I did,” Keira said.

Ned shook his head. “Population’s growing. We’re gonna have to do something pretty soon.”

We knew what that meant. Right now cougars were a protected species in our part of the world. But if they became a danger to the citizens, that could change. Ned sent a loving look to where his rifle leaned against the shed. He would probably be the first to sign up to hunt cougar.

“I think so far we’re safe,” Ben said. “Come on, girls.”

We left Ned Tuttle to watch for predators and headed for the parking lot.

It took all three of us to get the tree in the truck. Ben stood inside the bed and dragged, and Keira and I pushed from the outside. With one final heave, we got it in. Green branches overflowed everywhere. It was like a scene from that old sci-fi movie,
The Blob. The Christmas Blob
. The tree had just gotten the truck. Next it would reach out and eat us. Even in the dimly lit parking lot it was plain to see we had gotten more tree than Ben had bargained for.

“Oh, boy,” I said.

Keira wiped her brow and leaned against the side of the truck.

Suddenly her eyes got big as an owl’s, and she screamed. “Look out!”

Before I knew what was happening, she had me by the arm and was turning me toward the truck cab. “What?” I demanded.

“Cougar!” she cried and yanked open the door.

Chapter Nine

Oh, for Pete’s sake,” I began, but that was all I got out before she shoved me into the truck. I lost my balance and landed on my nose on the seat.