Page 2 of OMG Christmas Tree
I wanted to hold on to our house the way it always had been. Wishful thinking.
“Your father would have wanted you to spend the holidays with your family.”
Back to my time off, or lack of. Guilt: double shot, no whip, topped off with more guilt.
She wasn’t wrong. Dad would have wanted us all together for the holidays, including my brother, Derek. He lived in Seattle, working in tech. As hard as Dad worked, he’d always made time for us during the holidays.
But it wouldn’t be our family. Stu’s adult children were coming in for a big dinner at his—his and Mom’s—house. His kids had careers in podiatry and particle physics. Grinding coffee beans couldn’t compete with smashing atoms.
My dream?Hopingto be a coffee shop manager.
“I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important to me.” Mom’s voice thickened with emotion.
She’d already stirred me up with the Dad stuff. When it came to him, I couldn’t say no. The work excuse wouldn’t hold up. I owed my mom to be with her this holiday.
I grabbed the staff schedule off the board. “I’ll give it the old Campbell Can-Do.”
It’s what Dad would have done.
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IOWED TWO COWORKERScoverage any day they needed for the next six months.Brain: add Learn negotiating skills to my To-Do list.
Three days until Christmas and I was due back the day after the holiday. Now that Mom was with Stu, she lived so far north their backyard edged the Wisconsin state line.
I headed out with my car’s backseat only partly filled by a suitcase and a small bag of gifts. Not five minutes later, my phone rang in the seat beside me. No Bluetooth in this old thing, so I poked the speaker icon without looking.
“Megan, it’s your mother.”
“Do you call Derek this often?”
“Did I tell you he’s coming? Derek just got a last minute flight.”
Of course, he’d be there. He probably kept his long-planned visit a surprise with a story about last minute tickets. He knew it would delight Mom. Derek was so predictable. And reliable. Things I strived for, but usually fell short.
“I’m glad I caught you,” she went on through the speaker. “If you could pick up a tree for us on the way in, that would be so helpful. Sawyer’s Tree Farm. You’ll see it a mile from our exit.”
Brake lights strobed ahead in a seemingly endless red ribbon. “I’m sorry, what? I thought you said something about a tree.”
“The tree farm is on your way to the house. If you could pick one up for us on your way in.”
A real live Christmas tree. From a tree farm. A tradition my family never participated in. Why now? “You want me to get you a Christmas tree?”
“After our weekend trip to Lake Geneva and getting settled after the kitchen upgrade, we haven’t had time to put up decorations. The tree will be easy. Up here, they do it all for you. They’ll carry the tree to your car and tie it to the roof.”
Right. A whole tree tied to my roof. Perfectly normal.
“The tree is going in the front room,” she continued. “Our home has a two-story foyer, so we can fit a nice-sized tree.”
I bristled atour home. Time to muster the family Campbell Can-Do attitude. “Okay.”
“You have enough money, don’t you? We’ll pay you back of course.”
“Yes, Mom. I have enough money for a single Christmas tree.”
Never mind I had no clue how much a real tree cost. Or an artificial one. My own fake tree came from a garage sale complete with someone else’s homemade ornaments, my fave being aMery Christmus 1987stuffed sachet with a cross-eyed cross-stitched puppy.
Also, never mind my bank balance held a decidedly unimpressive amount of money. I paid my rent on time and I never went hungry. I was doing just fine, and with that promotion to store manager, I’d be even better.
