Page 23 of If You Give a Grump a Christmas Tree Farm
“What are they doing?” Rebecca asks.
“Shaping the trees. Cutting off any long or stray branches and giving them that nice triangular shape everyone likes. You need to do that if you want to get top dollar for your trees. It’s an important part.”
He points out several other bits of information about raising a crop of trees, including insecticides and fertilizers.
“You’ll need a couple of good guys working for you.”
“JJ thinks we can do it all on our own,” Rebecca replies.
“Oh, man. You’re going to need help.”
“We’ll get by,” I say.
“It’s going to be a lot of work. Good luck to you.”
After almost an hour, we return to the truck and thank him for all his help.
When I get behind the wheel and crank the engine, I look over at Rebecca. “You were really getting into all that.”
“Didn’t you find it all fascinating? There’s so much to learn. He’s really got a great setup. I see why people drive to come here.”
“Yeah. He’s formidable competition. I think even if we open up, there are still going to be a bunch of townspeople making the drive here for their trees.”
“Well, like we discussed earlier, we need to make it more than just about bringing a tree home. It needs to be an experience and a family tradition. We need to give the people an experience they’ll want to come back for again and again.”
I pull onto the highway. “I see your point. Did you check out that Instagram spot or whatever you call it?”
“I did. A real sleigh. That’s going to be hard to beat.”
“We don’t need to beat it, just offer something equally as cool.” I hope what I have planned does the job, and I really hope Rebecca likes it.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Rebecca—
I rise to the most delicious scent permeating through the cabin. It smells of cinnamon and bacon and everything fall.
After dressing in a pair of light-wash jeans and a soft pink off the shoulder knit sweater, I pull my hair into a messy bun and trail after that delectable aroma.
JJ stands at the stove scooping what appears to be caramelized apples onto a dish. He turns at my footsteps.
“Good morning.”
“Good morning. This smells like heaven.”
His mouth quirks in that sexy smirk he makes. “I made my special French toast and bacon. Why don’t you go sit on the porch, and I’ll bring you some?”
“Thank you.” I move to sit in one of the two rocking chairs on the front porch. The brisk breeze mixes the smell of our pine trees with the mouthwatering aromas wafting out of the cabin.
JJ carries out a plate and cup of coffee and sets them on the little wooden table in between the two chairs. The French toast is piled high with apples poured on top and what looks like caramel drizzle and whipped cream. Two thick slices of bacon are arranged along the edges.
“This looks delicious. Are you like, a secret chef on the side?”
“Ha ha, no. This is literally the only thing I make well, other than grilling.”
I slice into the French toast and take a bite, moaning around it. The rich taste of caramel, apples, and cinnamoncombined with the cool weather outside makes it feel like the holiday season. “Oh my God. This is the best French toast I’ve ever had. What did you do to this? The French toast tastes like it’s been caramelized, too.”
He locks his lips. “I’m not giving away my secrets.”
