Page 83 of A Cozy Christmas Blizzard
Granting him the privacy he needed to make his call, she donned her coat and walked to the end of the driveway to see if she could locate her father. Only a couple of minutes passed before she saw him proudly steering the tractor, his back and head held regally, like a benevolent king surveying all he owned.
Laughing, she waved.
He pulled to a stop alongside her. “What’s so funny?”
“I can’t believe you, sitting on top of a 1948 Harvester like you own the world.”
“Don’t be silly, serf,” he teased.
“We’ve got a bit of a problem, you know.” She realized she shouldn’t feel guilty about Slade, but she did.
“If you mean Slade, we talked about this unexpected delay. It might not be as bad as it looks. To his way of thinking, it’s best not to appear overeager with this business anyway. A delay may be just the thing to get the other company thinking.”
It would be just like Slade to say something like that, she thought. “Maybe.”
“At any rate, it won’t do him any good to stew about it now. He’s stuck with us until the snowplows clear the roads. No one’s going to make it to the freeway unless they have a four-wheel drive. It’s impossible out there.”
“But, Dad, I feel terrible.”
“Don’t. If Slade’s not concerned, then you shouldn’t be. Besides, I’ve got a job for you two.”
Shelly didn’t like the sound of that. “What?”
“We aren’t going to be able to go out and buy a Christmas tree.”
She hadn’t thought of that. “We’ll survive without one.” But Christmas wouldn’t be the same.
“There’s no need to. Not when we’ve got a good ten acres of fir and pine. I want the two of you to go out and chop one down like we used to do in the good old days.”
It didn’t take much to realize her father’s game. He was looking for excuses to get her together with Slade.
“What’s this, an extra Christmas present?” she teased.
“Nonsense. Being out in the cold would only irritate my rheumatism.”
“What rheumatism?”
“The one in my old bones.”
She hesitated. “What did Slade have to say about this?”
“He’s agreeable.”
“He is?”
“Think about it, Shortcake. He’s stuck here. He wants to make the best of the situation.”
It wasn’t until they were back at the house and Slade had changed into borrowed jeans and a flannel shirt, along with a pair of heavy boots, that she truly believed he’d fallen in with her father’s scheme.
“You don’t have to do this, you know,” she told him on the way to the barn.
“Did you think I was going to let you traipse into the woods alone?”
“I could.”
“No doubt, but there isn’t any reason why youshould. Not when I’m here.”
She brought out the old sled from a storage room in the rear of the barn, wiping away the thin layer of dust with her gloves.
