Page 110 of The One for Me
“Yes, my love?” I ask with a nice layer of sarcasm.
“This one.”
She points to a tree that is leaning a bit to the left. “That’s the perfect tree?”
There’s no way that’s the one she actually wants. “Yup.”
Okay, it seems there is a way. “Dev, that tree is leaning.”
“I know!” She smiles and bounces over to it. “It’s a little lopsided and no one would ever want it, which is why we have to get it.”
I’m . . . not really sure what to say. “How pray tell do you think we will get it in a stand?”
“I don’t know, but it needs a home.”
“And we are going to give it one?”
She nods. “What do you think, Austin?”
“It’s crooked.”
“Yes,” I agree with him. “It is. And do you know what trees that need ornaments and lights should not be? Crooked.”
He laughs. “Aunt Devney, I think we should get one that won’t fall over.”
Smart kid. “See, even he gets it.”
She waves her hand and drags her fingertips over the branches. “It’s a strong tree. It has good roots.”
“It has a bad trunk.”
I love her, but I am so lost. We have been searching for the perfect tree, and she wants to take one home that I’m going to have to get Connor to secure because I don’t have a clue how I would do it.
“I want it,” she says without apology.
You know, I’m too cold to care enough to argue. I’m freezing, my balls have shrunk up into my stomach, and we have an injured kid riding around as his insane aunt searches for a tree.
She wants this one, she’s got it.
After blowing on my fingers for a good two minutes, I start up the chainsaw and chop down the delipidated tree. We wrap a tarp around the branches and then hook the trunk up to the back so that we can haul it to the house.
When we get back, I help Austin inside before sparking a fire in the fireplace as Devney makes hot chocolate.
Now, I must tackle the tree.
I try. I really do. I get the tree into the stand, where it stands for a whole three seconds before tipping to the left. This happens three more times while Austin laughs nonstop. At least I can provide him with entertainment.
“Maybe if we cut a little more off the bottom it’ll work?” Devney offers her very non-helpful advice.
“Sweetheart, we have to cut half of it off if you want that.”
She sighs and stands there with her arms crossed over her chest, eyeing it. “Maybe we can build a special stand that counter-tilts.”
“That’s it,” I say with exasperation. I’m not handy. I can’t build it a special stand. She is about to have the next best option . . . my version of a special stand.
I head out to the barn and grab the water can and bring it in. Devney has settled on the couch next to Austin, and they watch me with a mix of humor and fear.
I put the bucket in the corner and shove the tree in there. It leans against the wall, bowed side out.
