Page 35 of If You Give a Grump a Christmas Tree Farm
“Welcome to Dasher’s. What can I get you to drink?” The middle-aged waitress has a big smile and elf ears on her head. I find it hard to keep a straight face while I give her my order. When she retreats, I look at Rebecca, and we both grin.
“What kind of hairstyle was that?” I ask.
“A beehive. I think they were popular a hundred years ago.”
She’s exaggerating, but not by much. Not only is her hair stacked and teased high on her head, but she’s got a bad red dye job, but the kicker is the ton of makeup she’s wearing and the cat-eyed glasses with the beaded cord that leads from them and around her neck.
“Don’t be mean,” Rebecca hisses.
“Oh, you missed the best part.” I lift my chin and stare at the woman’s feet where she stands at another table.
When Rebecca spots the felt elf shoes curled at the toes, she claps a hand over her mouth and averts her face to the window.
“Maybe you should get some of those,” I suggest. “You’d look cute as hell dressed as an elf.”
“Bite your tongue.”
Our waitress soon returns with our drinks. “You new in town?”
“No,” Rebecca replies. “We own Holly Jolly Tree Farm.”
“No kidding. Jim Anderson’s old place? He used to come in here all the time.” She nods toward the counter, where a couple of old men sit. “Sat right over there with those two. Every Wednesday and Sunday.” She cocks her head, studying me, then snaps her fingers. “You’re the grandson, aren’t you? I remember you used to come up back in the day. I’m Shirley.”
“JJ,” I say, then nod to Rebecca. “This is my sister-in-law, Rebecca.”
“So, the place is going to be open this year, huh?” she asks.
“That’s the plan,” I reply. “Is the manager or owner in?”
“You’re lookin’ at her, doll. What can I do for you?”
At that moment, Rebecca takes over. “We were hoping maybe we could work a deal with you?”
“A deal? What kind?”
“We’d supply you with a gorgeous fresh Christmas tree and set it up, and in exchange, we only ask you to put one of our sandwich-board signs next to it advertising our hours and such, letting people know that’s where the tree came from.”
“Oh, I see. A little advertising swap.”
“Exactly.”
In the background, the music changes to Elvis singing Blue Christmas.
“We have a white artificial tree in that corner by the jukebox.”
“Oh, but just think how wonderful a fresh pine tree will smell.”
“I suppose. Maybe we could squeeze one in by the cash register.”
“That would be perfect. Can we bring one out next Monday?”
“Sure, but make it before the lunch rush. We get busy after that.”
“Wonderful, and thank you so much,” Rebecca gushes. “Shirley, do you happen to know when they set up the Christmas market over across from the courthouse?”
“Oh, they’ve already started. It won’t open until next weekend, but the vendors are already busy unloading.”
“Thank you.”
