“Can we make cocoa when we get home?”
“Yeah, I think tonight definitely calls for some hot chocolate.”
“With marshmallows?” She looks at me excitedly.
I press the gas pedal to continue our drive home. “What would hot cocoa be at Christmastime without marshmallows? I think tonight calls for the whole bag.” Holly starts clapping, and from my peripheral, I can see her squiggling in her seat. Normally, I limit the amount she can have.
Our house is dark when we pull into the driveway. After I turn off the truck, I find myself staring at it, praying for some Christmas miracle to come along and miraculously fix everything that’s wrong with it. The list of repairs and upgrades is long. The only thing I can do is tackle the smaller projects one at a time.
The opening of Holly’s door shakes me from my dream-like state. I follow quickly, running ahead to turn the lights on for her. As usual, the house is cold, and I don’t hesitate to crank the heat. She turns on the radio and twists the dial, increasing the volume of the Christmas song playing. I cringe, but let it go. She needs this, and honestly, I do too.
Holly and I work as a team to bring our decorations up from the basement. With all our boxes piled up in the living room, I head back out to bring our tree in. Thankfully, it hasn’t snowed in the past few days, so the tree is relatively dry.
“Have you seen the tree stand?” I ask, propping the tree against the kitchen wall.
“Right here, but it has a hole in it.”
Holly brings the stand over, and sure enough, the bottom has rusted out. This is one of those learning moments. Heather told me to buy a plastic one a few years back, but I never got around to doing it.
“What are we going to do?” Holly asks.
The thing is, I don’t know. The hardware store is already closed, and the nearest store is a bit of a drive. Leaving now means we won’t get to decorate until tomorrow evening. Not necessarily a bad thing except I already promised Holly a night of fun.
“What if Mr. Steve has one?” Holly suggests but does so in a way that makes me laugh because she’s shrugged her shoulders and put her hands up, almost as if she’s not sure her idea is worthy or somehow telling me I should’ve thought of this first.
“I’ll call him and see.” I pull my phone out, scroll through my contacts and press his number. “Steve’s Tree Farm.”
“Dom?”
“What’s up?”
“Hey, man, this is Aiden. Does Mr. Steve sell tree stands?”
“Let me check.” Dominic covers the phone and hollers out. There’s mumbling in the background, but I can’t make heads or tails of what’s being said. “Nah, but he’s sending my dad over with one. Says you can return it after the holidays.”
I give Holly the thumbs up, which results in her jumping up and down. “Great. Please tell him, and your dad thank you.”
“Will do.” Dom hangs up but not before I hear Delaney laugh. Part of me wonders what made her laugh, while the other part of me wishes I were there to witness it.
While I heat up the milk for our festive drinks, Holly starts opening the boxes. I’ve decided I’m not going to dictate where she puts things. I want her imagination to run wild and be free when it comes to decorating. I think it’ll mean more to her. I know it will to me.
With the music on and our mugs full, I take on the dubious task of straightening out the strings of lights. I don’t care how nicely wrapped I made them last year, somehow they’ve all become a tangled mess. This right here, makes me want to get a fake tree, but I can’t do that to Mr. Steve.
Lights shine through our front window, alerting us to Gio’s arrival. “The mayor is here,” I tell Holly. “I’m going to go out and meet him.” I may have known the Du Lucas for most of my life, but inviting Gio into my home is something I’m not comfortable with.
She runs to the window to look. “That’s not the mayor.”
“Oh?” I to look out the window, only to find Delaney walking past my truck with a tree stand in her hand, disappearing into my dooryard. Holly’s screeching has me rushing to the door. Holly opens it before I can stop her and meet Delaney outside. I’m a step or two behind when Holly invites Delaney in. To Holly, having a movie star in your house is probably a huge moment in your life. To me, it’s anxiety overload.
Our eyes meet, and the smile she gives me has me forgetting for a moment that we’re standing in my kitchen. “Mr. Steve wanted me to bring this over.” Delaney hands me the plastic tree base.
“I thought your dad—”
“I wanted to,” she says, interrupting me.
“Do you want to stay and help us decorate?”
“Oh, no—” I start to say, only to hear Delaney blurt out, “I’d love to.”