Page 18 of RiffRaff's Reward

Me: Be sure you lock up and set the alarm, Jilly.

Jilly: Already on it because I know you usually do the walk-through when you’re here and figured you’d reach out. Be careful, handsome.

Me: I will.

I hit the ‘go’ button on the navigation system and soon, the robotic voice is leading me toward Texas and away from Virginia, thoughts of Jilly floating through my mind.

CHAPTER TEN

Jillian

“Doyou think he’ll like this one?” Kimber asks as we peer up at the huge fir tree at the Christmas tree farm we’re at. We’ve come to this one every year since she was a little girl, and the family who own and operate it treat us as though we’re an extension of their huge tribe. “It’s awfully big, sweetie,” I cautiously say as I crane my neck back so I can see it in its entirety. “Remember it’ll be me lugging it into the house and then lifting it up once the stand is on its base.”

He wasn’t able to get too far the day before because he got caught in a nasty wintry storm somewhere in Tennessee, which means he might be gone a little longer than initially anticipated. Hopefully he’ll be able to make up some time today, but he told me he’d call me, and I let him know he could call me as late as he needed to since we were getting the tree today. Normally, I get it sooner in the holiday season, but it’s been busy as hell at work, so we had to wait.

“Can we call RiffRaff’s son and see if he can help?” Kimber asks.

“Sweetie, he gave me his number in case there’s an emergency and I don’t think you wanting the biggest tree in the lot is one of those,” I gently chide.

“It would look so pretty, Mom,” she wistfully replies. She’s right, it’d be gorgeous in my foyer or even in my living room. But it’s enormous and I’m not sure if I own enough ornaments and lights to fill it. Secretly, I do want it, but that logical side of me is insistent that I need to get a smaller one.

I shake my head knowing my daughter has already mentally decorated this tree to the hilt. Ever since she was a little girl, she’s embraced the Christmas season with absolute abandon. I need to let RiffRaff know that by the time he gets home, my house will undergo a complete transformation as Santa’s North Pole home comes to roost on my property. I already have a local handyman coming out to put up the outside lights for me since I refuse to use any ladder that requires me to lean it against a structure. Nuh-uh, not me! The most I’ll use is a stepstool, which won’t help me much when it comes to reaching the roof. Because Kimber’s birthday is on Christmas Day, I’ve always gone all out with the decorating so that she knows that not only do we celebrate the season itself, but we also celebrate her as well.

“Maybe no one will get it this year and it’ll still be here next year, Mom. Then, RiffRaff can help us with it!” Kimber exclaims.

“So, you see us together next year, hmm?” I ask, my heart racing in my chest as I wait for her response.

“Mom,” she drawls out. “Really? I see him marrying you, which is a good thing because then it means I might get a little brother or sister someday.”

“I’m not as young as I used to be, sweetie,” I reply.

But the thought of having another baby, something I thought was lost to me, warms me to the core of my soul. Imagining how RiffRaff will be as I grow as big as a house has my face warming, because I remember how much pregnancy hormones impacted that area of my life.

“I heard somewhere that a woman had a baby, and she was over fifty or something like that!” Kimber rebuts.

I shudder at the thought of being that age and doing all the diapers, late-night feedings, then running after a toddler when I’ve put in a full workday. Just the idea of it has me exhausted. There’s a reason for youth to have babies and it has to do with aching body parts and the sincere desire to have uninterrupted sleep. Plus, RiffRaff’s older than me by at least a decade, and I can’t see him wanting to do that either. Hell, as it is, if we did go the distance and then had a baby or even two, they’d be younger than his grandkids. That’d make heads turn to hear Brick’s kids calling ours ‘aunt’ or ‘uncle’!

“How about we wait to see what happens?” I ask. “Now, about this year’s Christmas tree, I think we should get a smaller one this time around.”

“Then can we get two? You always say we should compromise. I think this is one of those times we should talk it out. We could put one in the front room so it can be seen as you pull up to the house, then the one back in the family room for the presents?” she asks.

Grinning, I reply, “Why not? I’m sure between the two of us we should be able to handle getting them hauled inside.”

“Doesn’t Mr. Cleary come today? Maybe he or one of his guys can help us get them inside, Mom. You know he’s always asking you if you need him to help.”

“I like the way you think, kiddo. Let’s do this so we can grab some lunch before we go home. I suspect while the trees are acclimating, we’re going to need to go shopping for more lights and ornaments. Think of a theme for the one in the front room. We’ll use the ones we’ve gotten over the years for the family tree.”

She claps her hands and exclaims, “That sounds perfect to me, Mom! Can I call Katie and see if she can come with us then maybe spend the night? We could make cookies and watch Christmas movies.”

“That’s fine with me.”

It’ll keep me busy since RiffRaff is out of town. It’s only the first full day and I know he’s still driving, but goodness, I miss him so much it’s ridiculous.

We had to go back for a third tree when Kimber saw the motorcycle ornaments at the Christmas warehouse we went to so we could stock up on tree decorations. She said that since RiffRaff is part of the family now, he should be represented. The front room tree is done in old timey ornaments; trucks, sparkly farm animals, berries and the like, with plaid ribbon falling down the sides from a huge bow on the top. RiffRaff’s tree, which is actually one we’ll plant in the spring, is perched on the front porch and is decked out with various motorcycles and bike-themed ornaments, along with handmade Harley Davidsonbows tied on the branches. The family room tree looks like Christmas vomited on it with all the sparkly balls, as well as the unique ornaments that I’ve gotten Kimber over the years, plus the handmade ones she made during arts and crafts then brought home from school when she was younger.

But the piece de resistance is the inflatable Santa riding a motorcycle that sits out front. At this point, my budget is completely out the window, but I couldn’t help myself, especially since my girl was so insistent about letting RiffRaff know that we want him in our lives.

Thankfully, after a whirlwind day, that wrapped up with freshly made cookies, popcorn, and movies, the girls are now up in Kimber’s room, giggling their heads off because of their sugar highs. I’ve set the alarm and locked all the doors plus windows, and I’m soaking in a much-needed hot bath, drinking a glass of wine. Okay, I might have the bottle in here with me but who’s keeping score?

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