Page 37 of Mistletoe & Magic
Ivy opens the back porch door for Lola, hair loose around her shoulders, eyes sparkling. Lola runs to Junie, ready to see who is here. Ivy takes one look at Finn and snorts. “That sweatshirt is brighter than the Christmas lights. Honestly, you and your brotherarethe walking definition of golden retriever energy. The only difference is that Remy growls if you pet him.”
I scoff, but I like it. I wouldn’t mind Ivy’s hands on me. And I bet I wouldn’t growl. I’d dosomething.
“Traitors. All of you.” Finn kicks the snow off his boots. Lola runs to him, tail wagging. He crouches to scratch behind her ears, muttering, “And just who are you, huh?”
Junie hops up and down. “My best friend, Lola. Like I said.We’re getting the tree today. Daddy promised. Are you helping?”
“That is why I am here,” Finn says. “Somebody has to make sure your dad doesn’t pick out the ugliest one in the lot.”
I roll my eyes. “Ivy gets to pick. We’re just here to haul it.”
Ivy leans her hip against the counter. “Hey, I had an idea and wanted to run by you, Remy.”
“Here we go,” Finn mutters, but he looks interested.
Ivy lifts her chin, undeterred. “What if we set up mini photo shoot sessions at the farm? A local photographer can do holiday portraits by the trees. Families, couples, even Christmas card shots. People would book time slots, and it would bring more business out here. I have a few people I could reach out to. A portion of the money can go to the tree farm.”
Junie gasps like Ivy just invented Christmas. “Can we do that? Please, Daddy?”
I glance at Finn. His brows are raised, but he is nodding slowly. “Actually, that is not a bad idea. The more people on the property, the more trees sold. Plus, it makes the place look good online.”
Ivy grins. “Exactly. Can I set it up?”
“Yeah,” I say, a little stunned at how easily she thought of it. “That’s a great idea.”
“Perfect,” she says, clapping her hands once. “I will have her start next Saturday.”
“Wait,” Finn says, straightening. “You already lined this up, didn’t you?”
She just smiles, all smug and sweet, and glances away guiltily.
I shake my head, but I am smiling, too. She is good for us. Good for this farm, I correct myself.
But I still can’t help thinking about how damn good shelooked naked. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get that out of my mind.
By midmorning, we are bundled in coats and scarves as we trudge across the fields to where the trees stand tall in neat rows. The air smells of pine and frost. Junie runs ahead, Lola bounding beside her, both of them weaving between the trees as if they are on some grand adventure.
“This one!” Junie calls, pointing to a stout spruce. Two minutes later, she changes her mind. “No, this one!”
Finn throws me a look. “We are going to be here until next week.”
Ivy crouches next to Junie, brushing snow off a branch. “Take your time. The right tree will pick us.”
My daughter beams at her like she just solved the mystery of the universe. My chest tightens at the sight.
Finally, Junie finds it. A small pine, oddly shaped, with sturdy branches. It has to be one of the ugliest trees I’ve ever seen. She plants her mittened hands on her hips and says with all of her five-year-old authority. “This one. It is ours.”
Finn says, “I mean…technically, theyareall yours.”
I crouch and test the trunk. “Good choice, kiddo.”
I smile because I always chose the Charlie Brown Christmas trees, too. The ones nobody wanted. I always felt like they deserved the best Christmas. My mom would always say, “Don’t you want the full, pretty one over there?” But, no. I always wanted the scraggly ones, much to her and my Uncle Carl’s dismay. Finn could have cared less. He was ready to go sled down the big hill behind the barn and get his energy out. I always loved the tradition of picking out the very best Christmas tree.
Ivy nods and grins, knowing damn well this is one of the worst trees, and that it probably wouldn’t have been sold.
With Finn’s help, I saw it down and haul it back across the field. Ivy and Junie cheer like we just won a championship. We get it ready in the barn and, just as I suspected, it is in fact the ugliest tree on the tree farm.
Back at the farmhouse, we drag the tree inside. The living room fills with the sharp, fresh scent of pine. Finn sets up the stand while I steady the trunk. When it’s upright, Junie claps her hands, bouncing on her toes.
