Page 25 of Blame It On The Reindeer

Sixteen

Brody

“You guys like it out here, don’t you?” I patted the tops of the reindeer’s heads and smiled at how well they were doing. My grandfather wasn’t lying when he said they enjoyed the cold weather.

I had checked the barn to make sure everything was still secure and that the wind hadn’t damaged anything before refilling their food and water bins. They all seemed plenty happy, and being around them reminded me so much of spending time here with my grandfather.

“So, Bert is on his way,” crazy boot lady said, startling me as I spun around to find her in the barn with us. Her smile stretched across her face as the reindeer immediately went to her, loving the attention she gave them as she patted their heads and scratched behind their ears.

“Wow. I’ve never seen them do that before. It’s like they know you...”

“I told you we were friends,” she replied sarcastically, looking up at me from under her thick lashes.

“Yeah, but what you haven’t told me is what are you doing out here?” I asked, hating that she thought it was a good idea to come out in this weather with those stupid boots.

“I came to tell you the good news. And since he is bringing his snowplow, he can free my car while he’s here, and I can get out of your hair.”

“Let me make myself clearer—why are you coming out in at least two feet of snow with those crazy boots on? Are you trying to break your ankle?”

“No, silly. I borrowed yours. I found an extra pair in the closet, so I slipped them on and came out. I knew you’d be mad if I wore my other boots, so I made an executive decision to steal yours.”

“I hate to break it to you, but those aren’t mine.” I bent down and added the last of the bag of feed to the trough to replenish what they’d already eaten and tossed the empty bag into the vacant stall behind me.

“Oh,” she said, frowning as she looked down and lifted her foot. “Whose are they?”

“My grandfather’s. And he had pretty bad athlete’s foot, so I would be sure to wash your feet really well after you take them off.”

Her face fell and I could see her debating on whether to rip them off now or wear them back into the house.

“So, since you’re already out here and your friend is on the way, did you want to help pick out the tree?” I offered, wiping my hands on the front of the jeans I changed into before coming outside.

“Sure. That would be nice, thank you.”

“Follow me and try not to break anything in the process,” I said, looking over my shoulder to see her already struggling to stay upright in the thick snow.

We walked for a few minutes until we got to the edge of the ranch where it was covered with thick forest and plenty of trees to choose from.

“Take your pick,” I offered. “Some are well over twelve feet; however, you’ll need to make sure Bert is able to get it back. I wouldn’t go crazy and do any over fifteen feet.”

“No, I think around twelve feet is perfect. We don’t want it too big because then it’ll be hard to decorate the top. Just something bigger than the other trees we’ll have up as decoration throughout the mall.”

“Have you guys already gotten those trees?”

“Yeah. Thankfully, one of the tree farms always donates a few to us for Frosty Fest each year. We put little signs up, promoting the farm for them, so it’s a win-win.”

“Alright. Just let me know which one, and I can get started.”

She looked around and then up at me with a confused look.

“Are you just going to demand that it come down?” she asked, folding her arms over her chest as I watched her shiver in the cold.

“No, smart ass. I have tools. They’re over in that shed but I didn’t want to lug them around until I knew which one I was cutting down.”

“You’re so grumpy,” she said, shaking her head.

“Because you’re so difficult.”

“I didn’t ask you to come out here and cut down a tree for me—you offered.”

---