Page 6 of Unexpected Gifts

Luke Hayes woke Thanksgiving morning at the first light of dawn. He pulled up the shade in his bedroom, surprised to see snow had fallen overnight, blanketing his family’s farm and barn in white. Thanksgiving with snow? He couldn’t remember a time when it had snowed this early. Lily would be thrilled. His four-year-old daughter had been praying for snow for weeks. It touched his heart to hear her plea for a winter wonderland, but he hadn’t believed it possible.

He dressed in a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt, preparing for his morning routine. If he hustled, he could finish before lunch and take Lily sledding in the afternoon.

The last few weeks, he’d been struggling with a melancholy he couldn’t seem to shake. His life had not turned out as he’d hoped. It was the truth. As the years went by, he felt more like a failure with every passing day. He was a thirty-six-year-old man, divorced, with sole custody of Lily, and he lived with his parents. For God’s sake, he slept in his childhood room, with Lily across the hallway in what had once been his brother Logan’s room.

His ex-wife had left him and Lily when their infant was only a few weeks old. Sarah had told him from the beginningthat she didn’t want children, and he’d agreed, hoping deep down that she would change her mind. Yes, that was a mistake. One of many, as it turned out. Then, even with birth control, Sarah had gotten pregnant, only months into their marriage. She’d wanted to terminate the pregnancy, but Luke had begged her to go through with it. She’d reluctantly agreed. Regardless, throughout the pregnancy, she was disengaged from him and life in general. In fact, she’d seemed in denial that a baby was actually growing inside her.

He’d thought that once the baby arrived, Sarah would change her mind. He’d heard of men and women who fell instantly in love with their infant. That would be the case with Sarah. It had to be. What mother would ever leave her baby? He’d been very wrong. So wrong.

“I didn’t want to be a mother. I never did. I told you that from the beginning.”

Those were her parting words. Leaving him no choice but to raise Lily on his own. Truth be told, if it hadn’t been for his mother, he would have been utterly lost. Grace Hayes had insisted he and Lily move in with them. While he worked the farm and their family business, she took care of the baby. More than she should, really. His mother adored Lily. A girl, finally. After raising four rough-and-tumble boys, Grace delighted in every pink sweater and tulle skirt.

The farm had been in the family for generations, and Luke had taken over most of the operation now that his dad was slowing down. His father convinced him that it would be good for all of them if Luke were to take the leadership role and management of the day-to-day workings of the farm.

“Maple syrup farm’s a young man’s game,” Walter said.

His father had admitted he wanted more time for his hobbies, fishing and birdwatching. Luke figured as hard as his dad had worked all his adult life, it was about time he retired.Taking over the farm had been Luke’s intention all along, but he’d assumed his brothers might want a part in the business as well. However, that worry was unfounded. No one but him had shown any interest in maple syrup.

The house was quiet, with everyone but him was still sound asleep. He stopped in to see Lily first before going downstairs, careful not to step on the creaking floorboard next to her door. She was tucked into her twin bed, surrounded by her stuffed animals. They all had names, which she shared with him from time to time, lest he forget.

Good Lord, he loved her. If his schedule allowed, he could watch her sleep for the entire day. But chores awaited, so he quietly shut the door to her room and walked down the hall in his stocking feet.

The first light of dawn filtered through the frost-covered windows as he poured himself a cup of coffee. Bless his mother—she always made it the night before and set the timer so that it was brewed and hot for him by 6:00 a.m. He stood in the kitchen looking out the window, surprised to see the snow had started again. Fat and lazy, the snowflakes fell one after the other.

Luke reached into the refrigerator for cream, managing to avoid brushing against a giant raw turkey that would soon go in the oven. He cut himself a large piece of his mother’s banana bread and sat at the long, sturdy wooden table, its surface marked with the faint nicks and scratches of years of family meals, holiday gatherings, and baking sessions.

When Luke and his father had remodeled the kitchen, Grace had insisted on keeping the table. Too many family memories had been enjoyed at that table, she’d said. “Like me, she’s a little old and battered but can still get the job done.”

In general, Luke was enormously proud of the work they’d done. They’d managed to incorporate some of the original kitchen into the updated version. They’d kept the original brickhearth, which now framed the modern stove. Wide-plank wood floors remained but had been refinished and painted with a dark stain. New sleek appliances, a double-door stainless steel refrigerator, a matching oven, and a stovetop. Best of all? An apron-front style sink.

The cabinets were a soft cream color, with antique brass handles. Grace loved them, which made Luke chuckle. Open shelves held a mix of ceramic dishes, mason jars filled with dried goods, and a few well-worn cookbooks, alongside modern touches such as glass containers and stainless steel gadgets. White granite countertops were cluttered with spice jars, flour and sugar containers, a well-used stand mixer, several open cookbooks, and bowls of fresh fruit.

Somewhat chaotic? Yes. He preferred neat and tidy. But his mother’s kitchen was for “practical use, not a television show.” Grace’s words. Today, the kitchen would be particularly full as his mother prepared her Thanksgiving feast. He could hardly wait.

The remodel had made his mother happy, which meant it made the rest of them happy too. After all, she’d taken such good care of them when they were growing up, she deserved the best. Even now, she looked after her giant sons. Whenever any of the boys were in need, she brought them into this kitchen and nourished hearts, stomachs, and souls.

He drank the rest of his coffee and had another piece of banana bread. In the mudroom, he tugged on his work boots and gloves and donned his worn work jacket. Frigid air blasted his face and ears.

While his brothers had all wanted to have professions outside of maple syrup, he’d never had such ambition. He’d known from the time he was a little boy that this was where he belonged. Had it cost him to choose an unusual path? Sure. If he’d been a professional like his brother Logan, who owned afamily law practice in town, or his brother Nolan, the smartest of all of them, who now taught English literature at the college a few towns over, he might be more financially successful but the idea of sitting in an office all day sounded horrible. They gave Nolan a lot of grief for his PhD, calling him “Dr. Hayes” in mock snooty voices. Nolan didn’t care. He was too easygoing and affable to have his feathers ruffled. As the youngest of four, with three headstrong brothers, he’d had to adapt. Or perhaps he’d been born that way.

He and his brother Max, only two years younger than Luke, had been and still were the ones tied to the land and the little town. After he’d graduated from college with a business degree, Max had traveled around the world for a few years. But he’d come home finally. And he’d surprised the entire family when he bought the local country store. Max sold anything a person could want: local cheeses, fishing supplies, wine, and fresh produce. It was a local gathering spot, too, with old men playing checkers and gossiping and young people huddled on the grass or at outside tables giggling their heads off.

Luke reached the barn and swung open the door, greeted by the familiar smell of hay and earth. Inside, the horses stirred, their breath misting in the cold air. He grabbed a pitchfork and began mucking out the stalls. Once the stalls were clean, he headed to the sugar bush, where the maple trees stood tall. Sap wouldn’t start flowing for another few months, so he used these slow months to check and repair equipment, clear access roads, and prepare the sugarhouse for the upcoming sugaring season.

Next, Luke headed over to the bottling and packaging building, just to peek in and make sure everything was set up for Black Friday. Today, he’d given all the staff the day off. Tomorrow, their usual personel would arrive in addition to a dozen seasonal workers he’d hired for the holidays. Christmas season was busy and always kicked off on the day afterThanksgiving. From then until the new year, their employees would be swamped putting together gift baskets.

For fear of being immodest, he had to admit, it had been the gift baskets that saved the family business. Although they had a good local reach of supermarkets and specialty shops, plus restaurants, he’d needed something to diversify or they’d never have grown the way he wanted them to.

After some thought, he’d decided to go all in with retail and tourism. He’d modeled the retail business after Harry & David and a few others. The key was creating visually appealing gift boxes and baskets that were filled with delicious treats. Over the last few years, he’d brokered partnerships with four other local businesses to add variety to their offerings. They included, in addition to their syrup, a local barbecue and hot sauce company that used their syrup in the recipes, a jam and jelly maker who incorporated syrup as sweeteners, and a maple mustard maker who combined the sharpness of mustard with the sweetness of syrup. Together, they made one fine basket.

Although they’d never done anything like it before, and Luke had been nervous to implement something new, it has been a smashing success. They’d doubled their revenue in the first year and added another 25 percent in each subsequent year.

Yep. The gift fulfillment part of the business had saved the farm.

By the time he returned to the house, the snow had begun to fall in earnest. His mother was in the kitchen, frying bacon, and the smell drifted out to meet him as he approached the door.

He shrugged out of his jacket and took off his boots, leaving them in the mudroom so he didn’t track anything in and irritate the queen. Lily was sitting at the table, her hair already neatly combed and braided, thanks to his mother. She sleepily sipped at a glass of milk. Upon seeing him, she scooted from her chair to run and greet him, throwing her arms around his legs. Lukepicked her up and gave her a squeeze and kiss. “Good morning, beautiful.”

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