Page 25 of If You Give a Grump a Christmas Tree Farm
“Wonderful.” JJ watches the man’s big Peterbilt cab rumble down the road.
I approach. “Guess those workers would have come in mighty handy about now.” It’s probably the wrong thing to say,and JJ glares at me, then runs a hand over his face. “Sorry. We’ll figure it out. Don’t get frustrated.”
“Don’t get frustrated?” He swings his arms wide. “Twenty-one thousand pounds of pumpkins just showed up out of the blue.”
“Your grandfather must have ordered them in the spring before…” I don’t finish the sentence. I don’t have to.
JJ looks at the sky. “Well, thanks for that, Gramps.”
“It’ll be okay,” I say, trying to calm him.
“How is this going to be okay? What the hell are we going to do with them all?”
“Sell them, I guess.”
“Well, you better put on that thinking cap of yours and figure out a way to get a thousand people up here to buy them all.” He stalks off.
“Where are you going?” I call after him.
“I’m gonna see if my club can help. A few of them have been in the Nashville area this week.”
I hope he pulls through. We’ll be out here until that trucker drives returns if we’re left to do it on our own.
JJ paces back and forth, talking on his phone, then strides over to me. “Thankfully, they were already headed this way with my idea for the Instagram spot. So, we should have some help in the next hour or two. In the meantime, we should see if we can rent a forklift.”
He seems calmer now that help is on the way. “That’s wonderful. I’m sure everything will be fine, then.”
“Fine? Yeah, sure.”
Ten minutes later, we’re pulling out of the drive.
I notice the black lab eating the food JJ put out for him next to the side of the house and shake my head. JJ may not admit he wants the dog, but his actions are clear; that dog already belongs to him. He just has to admit it to himself.
We have to drive to the outskirts of the town to get to a big-box store.
“How can I help you, sir?” a man behind the counter asks as we approach.
“We need to rent a forklift.”
“All right, we’ve got several types. Which kind do you need?”
JJ looks at me as if I can help, but all I do is shrug.
Thankfully, the man takes pity on us. “We’ve got ones for warehouses, a side loader, a rough terrain one—”
“That one.” JJ interrupts. “It’s for outdoors, right? That’s what we need.”
“Yeah, usually used on farms. And you are forklift certified, right?” The man eyes him suspiciously.
“No, do I need to be certified?”
“Yeah.”
“Dammit. I’ve got some friends coming to help. If one of them is certified, can I rent it?”
“Yeah, he’ll just need to come sign the paperwork.”
“Okay.” He slides his phone out again and makes a call, putting it on speaker.
