Page 11 of This Christmas

People are below, walking along the sidewalk, some getting in line for Alma’s. Some walk into the café, the hardware store, and other businesses on Main Street. One man, with his wife and children trailing behind him, carries a tree across the street. It warms my heart knowing he bought it at Whitaker’s.

It hits me then that this man could be Zane, and I find myself leaning closer to the window as if I’m going to see better. He’s far enough away that I can’t see him clearly, but it doesn’t escape me that Zane could be married and have children. It’s not like he’s kept in contact with his father on a regular basis and even if he told Bernie, he wouldn’t tell me. Mr. Whitaker would do everything he could to protect my heart.

Staring out the window and looking in the faces of strangers to spot Zane isn’t how I should spend my day. I can either go through the day and the following days, knowing I’ll eventually run into him and care. Or I can go about my day not thinking about him. He stopped caring a long time ago so I shouldn’t care that Zane’s in town.

I only care about how Mr. Whitaker is going to feel when Zane leaves. I’ll be there to pick up the pieces when that happens.

Giving up, I go back downstairs to find Noelle on the phone. She holds her finger up, needing me to wait.

“Yes, I’ll tell her. No problem.”Noelle hangs up. “Well, I don’t know if this is your lucky day or worse nightmare.”

I stare at her blankly while she smiles. Not quite like the Cheshire Cat, but close.

“What?”

“That was Mr. Whitaker.”

Before she can even finish, my heart leaves my chest and crashes to the floor.

“He’s out of trees and wants to know if the. . .” Noelle picks her notepad up and clears her throat. “Beautiful Evangeline could bring me some trees today. They’ve been selling very well, and I’d like to buy a handful more.’”

Noelle puts her pad down and clasps her hands together. “Do you think it’s a ploy?”

“For what?”

“For you to run into his son?”

I shake my head. “Mr. Whitaker doesn’t have a devious bone in his body. Besides, Zane hasn’t been the best son since he went to New York. I don’t see Bernie playing matchmaker.”

“Then why did he call you and not your dad?”

Good question.

“Probably because I’m the one who brought him the trees to begin with? I don’t know, but I do know he wouldn’t try and set Zane and I up. Bernie knows how badly his son hurt me.”

If I didn’t love the old man dearly, I’d tell Jake or my dad to do it, but then Mr. Whitaker would wonder why I didn’t show up.

After going back upstairs to change my clothes, Itell Noelle to expect me back before she leaves for the day. She’s laughing as I leave the office. I take the back roads to my parents’ farm because I know they’ll be safe. There’s no way I’d see Zane walking along the road here, especially since his dad lives on the other side of town.

By the time I pull into my parents’ driveway, I’m on edge. A chainsaw sounds in the distance and after a quick perusal through the house, it’s clear my mom isn’t home. Not a big deal, other than I want to talk to her about Deer Ridge’s newest visitor.

I head right now to the shack and pull the first tree off the fence and carry it to the truck. I repeat the process, one after another, until a car pulls into the parking lot. Frowning, I look toward the rows of trees where my dad is cutting, wishing he’d come back in so I can get this delivery done and go back to work. Not that I have much to do. Noelle is efficient at her job and probably deserves a raise.

The car door slams and footsteps follow. I’m adjusting the trees when I yell out, “Have a look around and let me know when you find the tree you want.”

“Hi, Eve.”

His voice still gives me shivers, even though it should make me feel nothing but rage. I lean away from the tree I’m holding to find Zane standing there with his hands in the pockets of his jeans. He looks nothing like the Zane I fell in love with many moons ago.

Much to my chagrin, he looks better. Hotter. More handsome. He’s grown, physicallymatured, and filled out. Zane wears his dark hair short on the sides and a little longer on top. It’s not that much different from when we were together, but something I notice easily.

He’s paired his favorite cable-knit sweater with his jeans, and I’m glad that part of him hasn’t changed.

I open my mouth to say something, but words fail me. For years, I used to run through a monologue of things I would say to Zane if I ever saw him again. It would be nice if those words would come to me now, so I could say them.

Yet, there is nothing.

“It’s good to see you,” Zane says with a tilt of his head.

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