Page 9 of All I Want for Christmas

“Not to worry,” Jed said with a wink. “Ned’s got a backdrop with snowy mountains, and a hay bale covered in cotton to look like a snowbank. He’s even got a plastic snowman and reindeer.”

Neely Kate frowned. Jed walked over to her and pulled her into a sideways hug.

“I just want it to be perfect,” she said wistfully.

“It will be,” Jed assured her. “As long as it’s us three, it could smell like dog shit out here and it would still be perfect.”

She smiled up at him.

“Unlike Jed,” Joe said in a teasing tone, “I won’t call it perfect if it smells like dog shit, but you can make it up to me later.” He set the stroller on the ground and popped it open before he closed the tailgate. “You ready to go find the tallest tree on the farm?”

“Jed’s right,” Neely Kate said. “No matter what happens, it’s gonna be perfect.”

I wasn’t sure about perfect, but I suspected it would be entertaining.

I put Hope in the stroller, strapped her in, then handed her a teething toy.

We headed through the parking lot toward the farm. Several families were walking out into the rows of pine trees, and Neely Kate was antsy to get out to the perfect tree. She got irritated when Joe and Jed stood at the edge of the lot, discussing their plan of action.

“All the good trees are gonna be gone,” Neely Kate said, shifting Daisy to her other hip.

Jed handed Joe the ax and saw, then took his daughter. “Okay, fine. We’ve got a plan. Let’s head out.”

The guys took the lead, leaving me pushing the stroller and Neely Kate to follow.

“Joe,” I called out to them, “don’t you need to get an ax or a saw?”

“We’re only gonna cut one tree down at a time,” he said, glancing over his shoulder.

“You could have a tree cutting competition,” Neely Kate said. “See who chops their tree down the fastest.”

That sounded like an ER trip in the making. “Maybe let’s not.”

We trudged up a small hill meandering through the crooked rows, and I couldn’t help thinking how the trees should have been planted and how I would have done it differently.

After about five minutes, we reached the back part of the lot and reached a section of barely five-foot trees. This section had several families picking out trees, and there were several spots where trees had already been cut down.

“I knew we should have come last weekend,” Neely Kate groaned. “All the good trees are gone!” She shot me an accusatory look.

“I’m sorry,” I said, lifting a hand in surrender. “But we promised the kids we’d take them to Little Rock.”

She made a face. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry.”

I gave my friend a worried glance. I knew she was all keyed up about having the best Christmas ever, but she seemed anxious about it, like finding the perfect tree was a life and death matter.

“You okay?” I asked her in a worried tone.

Her eyes widened. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Well … you just seem …” I hesitated, looking for the right words. “On edge.”

Her head dropped and she studied the ground as we walked. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

She lifted her face and offered me a smile that looked as fake as a three-dollar bill. “I’m just hangry, is all. I didn’t eat much for lunch.”

I’d seen firsthand how surly she could get when she skipped a meal, but this seemed deeper than that. Like her soul was heavy. Was all this perfect Christmas stuff making her think about her mother? “You know,” I said carefully, “Christmas is about the people you’re with, and no matter how big or short your tree is, you’ll have Jed and Daisy.” I grimaced. “Sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound so preachy.”

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