Page 24 of If You Give a Grump a Christmas Tree Farm
“Well, whatever you did, it’s amazing.” I point my fork at the remaining French toast on my plate. “Like seriously, you could sell this.”
We sit enjoying the meal when a large tractor-trailer rumbles across the gravel drive, kicking up a trail of dust.
“What in the world?” I set my coffee aside.
“Must be lost,” JJ says and goes to talk to the driver.
I rise and move closer to the steps; their voices carry across the distance.
“Hey, can I help you?”
“I’ve got your truckload of pumpkins. Where do you want ‘em?” A burly man sitting at the truck’s wheel replies.
“I don’t want them at all. You must have the wrong address. We didn’t order these.”
The man pulls a stapled sheet from the seat next to him. “This is Holly Jolly Farms, right?”
“Yes.”
“Then, it’s the right place.”
Oh, crap. My eyes widen, and JJ flicks a glance at me. It’s clear he’s feeling just as stunned.
“Look, buddy, we don’t need any pumpkins,” JJ responds, shaking his head to emphasize the fact.
“They’re already paid for, so if you want me to haul them back, then you’ll have to pay the unloading fee.”
JJ pinches the bridge of his nose like he’s getting a headache from the whole thing. “Fine. Unload them over there.” He gestures to an open grassy area.
“Son, I don’t do the unloading. You do.”
“What? Come on.”
“Talk to the Teamsters. It’s in our contract.No unloading of trucks. That’s on you. This is a drop and hook delivery. I drop the trailer, and you unload it. I haul it off in twenty-four hours.”
“Are you telling me we’ve got twenty-four hours to unload… How many?”
He picks up the manifest and scans it. “Well, it’s a standard load of medium to large pumpkins. Thirty pallets. Seven hundred pounds each, for a total of twenty-one thousand pounds.”
“Twenty thousand pounds of pumpkins?” JJ barks, and my heart starts to pound.
Oh, my God. What are we going to do with all these pumpkins, and how the heck are we going to get them unloaded?
“Twenty-onethousand,” the driver corrects JJ, climbing from his truck.
JJ rakes a hand through his hair. “You’re not making this any better.”
The man walks to the back, unlocks and swings the big doors open with a clank, then pulls out a ramp.
“I don’t have a forklift.”
“I suggest you get one.” He moves to the hitch and begins unhooking the trailer completely unbothered by JJ’s attitude.
“From where?”
“Tractor rental place, I guess,” he calls over his shoulder.
I move down the steps as the man finishes uncoupling the trailer and climbs into the cab of the truck. “I’ll be back tomorrow, same time.”
