Page 29 of Unexpected Gifts

Until today, Abby hadn’t seen Luke’s truck. But as she followed him out to Martin’s Christmas Tree Farm, she chuckled to herself. He drove a vintage red pickup, the kind that looked as if it had been plucked straight from an old postcard or holiday painting. Not that she knew much about cars, but it appeared to be a classic model, with a rounded body, wide fenders, and a gleaming chrome grille. Along the side, a hand-painted sign read Hayes Maple Syrup in white.

It suited him.

“Luke’s truck is pretty,” Abby said to Sophie, who sat in the back seat quietly gazing out the window. “Don’t you think?”

“He drives it everywhere. Making syrup deliveries from his farm and stuff. During the holidays, he uses it to take Christmas trees out to people who can’t get one by themselves. Usually, they’re elderly.”

“Really?” Abby’s eyes felt scratchy at the thought of him driving out to deliver trees to old folks.

“Yeah. Everyone loves Luke. His brothers tease him about that old truck. But my mom and I always thought it was cool.”

“I think so too.”

In fact, the truck was rather like the man himself. Sturdy and reliable, if a little old-fashioned. There was something about the way the truck fit into the landscape, with its boxy shape, old-school headlights, and the steady rumble of its engine, like Luke.

Soon, they were upon the sprawling farm, with a big red barn visible from the main road, its roof lined with twinkling lights. To her surprise, the parking lot was nearly full. She managed to find a spot near the back, gathered the kids, and headed toward Luke and Lily, who waited by an old farmhouse, its wide porch decorated with garlands of pine and red bows. A wreath hung on the front door, and lanterns flickered along the steps.

“Isn’t this place the best?” Luke pointed to a man in a flannel jacket and Santa hat helping a customer tie up a tree. “That’s Hank Martin, the owner. He’s been here for as long as I can remember. Before him, his father ran the farm. It’s a tradition for almost everyone in Sugarville Grove to get their tree here.”

“I couldn’t love it more,” Abby said truthfully.

Beside the barn, Hank had set up a rustic wooden cabin where families could wander in to browse handmade ornaments, garlands, and wreaths. Upon Luke’s suggestion, they stopped to have a look around before they went in search of their trees.

Inside, the cabin smelled like cinnamon and pine, with a crackling fireplace in the corner and shelves filled with delicate glass ornaments, hand-carved reindeer, and stockings in every color. There were rows of scented candles, small Nativity sets, and baked goods, including gingerbread cookies. Abby loved gingerbread. It reminded her of her mother. Every Christmas, they made a gingerbread house together, and the house had always smelled so good.

Maybe she should do that with the kids?

Jack ran straight to a table displaying wooden ornaments shaped like stars and snowflakes, while Lily wandered toward a stand with quilted ones.

“Don’t touch them,” Luke said, following his daughter.

“Can I have this one?” Jack asked, holding up an ornament with a snowman carved into it. “Mom always lets us choose one to take home.”

Darned if she didn’t need a handbook of traditions. “If that’s the one you want, sure.” Abby turned to Sophie. “Do you want to choose one too?”

“Yeah, okay.” Sophie wandered over to a display of delicate glass ornaments.

They were exquisite. Abby itched to buy more than just one, but since she didn’t have a job, she needed to control herself.

Sophie chose a delicate glass angel, turning it in her hands as the light from the fireplace danced through the translucent wings.

“Can I have this one?” Sophie asked, her voice wistful.

“Yes, of course.” It didn’t take a handbook to guess what Sophie was thinking.

“You should pick one too,” Sophie said. “For your first Christmas in Vermont.”

Abby nodded, warming to the idea. She immediately knew which one she wanted—a replica of a farmhouse covered in snow. “I like this one.”

“It’s perfect.” Sophie smiled, and she smiled back at her, then spontaneously drew the child into an embrace. To her surprise, Sophie hugged her back.

While she waited for the items to be rung up, she glanced outside, where rows of fir trees glittered under strings of lights. A large wooden sign next to the farmhouse read Hank’s Trees and Holiday Farm, its letters outlined with white lights. Familiesroamed the lot, sipping hot chocolate and chatting as they searched for the perfect tree.

Lily had chosen a quilted yellow dog for her ornament. Abby had to once again fight tears. She was turning into a real crier.

“He looks like Rufus,” Jack said, stating the obvious.

“I know,” Lily said. “That’s why I picked him.”

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