reached her hand to her face. She tucked her wild strands behind her ear.
“No, no. I’m Tate.”
“Amanda’s boyfriend,” Jack interjected.
“Amanda! How is she? Is she still living down south?”
“Yes. Wilmington. Still a news anchor,” Jack replied.
“Well, we always knew she was going places. Didn’t we? Much too talented to stay around these parts.”
“You might see her later today. She’s helping her mother with the ornaments. Where would you like your tree?”
“In the living room in front of the window. I’ve cleared an area over there.” Kristen pointed to an empty space in front of the brown curtains.
Unlike the cluttered front porch, the living room was sparse, consisting of one worn tan couch and a matching tan chair. Two little girls were sitting on the carpet in front of a coffee table that was covered with construction paper, glitter, and markers. Their eyes were glued to the tree.
“You guys are just so wonderful. Real angels sent from up above.” She held an unlit cigarette in the air. “It’s been just me and the girls since their d-a-d skipped out last year. Honestly, with the way the economy is and gas prices are going, I didn’t think I’d be able to afford Christmas this year. I can’t thank you enough, Jack.”
“It’s our pleasure,” Jack said and winked. “Besides, it’s really the least I can do for the woman who ensures I get extra pulled pork each visit to the deli.” He patted Kristen’s shoulder.
“Ha, ha. I’m not sure if that puts me on your wife’s nice list or her naughty one.”
Jack laughed as he untied the Douglas Fir. Tate helped him lift it into the tree stand, but the tree’s trunk didn’t easily slide in.
“I have some tools in my truck. I’ll be right back.” Jack left the trailer.
Tate leaned the tree against the living room wall. He felt a short tug on his sweater.
“Would you like to help me and my sister decorate ornaments for our tree?” A young girl around five or six with mousy brown hair in a ponytail peered up at him with big round eyes.
“Chloe, I don’t think Tate has time to make ornaments. He has to help Mr. Turner deliver Christmas trees to other families.” Kristen gently ushered her daughter back to the coffee table. “Sorry,” she mouthed to him.
“I think I have time for one snowflake,” Tate offered. He sat down on the carpet next to Chloe.
She handed him a pair of children’s scissors and a white piece of construction paper. “Here, you can make a snowflake. Danielle is coloring the reindeer.”
“Thank you.” Tate smiled and made various zigzag cuts into the white paper. He remembered doing this himself when he was her age. He and his mother used to make homemade decorations for their tree. How quickly forgotten memories come back, he mused.
He glanced over at Danielle, who quietly filled in lines with a brown crayon. She looked to be one or two years younger than Chloe. “Hi. Do you like to color?” he asked.
Danielle ignored Tate’s question and continued to move her crayon back and forth.
“She doesn’t talk to strangers,” Chloe said. “She’s four, and I’m five.”
“That’s quite all right. So, Chloe, what are you asking Santa Claus for this year?”
“Oh, Santa doesn’t stop here.” She picked up a silver glitter stick and glided it across her snowflake.
“He doesn’t? Why not?” Judging by the trailer’s contents, he suspected he knew the answer.
She shrugged her tiny shoulders. “Momma says he runs out of time because we are the last trailer in the park. She said she talked to him at the mall, and this year, he wants to see our tree. We’ve been working hard on these decorations, so he’ll see our pretty tree from the window and want to come in.”
Tate’s heart melted. “Well, I’m sure he’s going to love these decorations. And you know what he’s going to want when he gets here?”
“What?” Chloe’s eyes widened.
“Christmas cookies! And
“No, no. I’m Tate.”
“Amanda’s boyfriend,” Jack interjected.
“Amanda! How is she? Is she still living down south?”
“Yes. Wilmington. Still a news anchor,” Jack replied.
“Well, we always knew she was going places. Didn’t we? Much too talented to stay around these parts.”
“You might see her later today. She’s helping her mother with the ornaments. Where would you like your tree?”
“In the living room in front of the window. I’ve cleared an area over there.” Kristen pointed to an empty space in front of the brown curtains.
Unlike the cluttered front porch, the living room was sparse, consisting of one worn tan couch and a matching tan chair. Two little girls were sitting on the carpet in front of a coffee table that was covered with construction paper, glitter, and markers. Their eyes were glued to the tree.
“You guys are just so wonderful. Real angels sent from up above.” She held an unlit cigarette in the air. “It’s been just me and the girls since their d-a-d skipped out last year. Honestly, with the way the economy is and gas prices are going, I didn’t think I’d be able to afford Christmas this year. I can’t thank you enough, Jack.”
“It’s our pleasure,” Jack said and winked. “Besides, it’s really the least I can do for the woman who ensures I get extra pulled pork each visit to the deli.” He patted Kristen’s shoulder.
“Ha, ha. I’m not sure if that puts me on your wife’s nice list or her naughty one.”
Jack laughed as he untied the Douglas Fir. Tate helped him lift it into the tree stand, but the tree’s trunk didn’t easily slide in.
“I have some tools in my truck. I’ll be right back.” Jack left the trailer.
Tate leaned the tree against the living room wall. He felt a short tug on his sweater.
“Would you like to help me and my sister decorate ornaments for our tree?” A young girl around five or six with mousy brown hair in a ponytail peered up at him with big round eyes.
“Chloe, I don’t think Tate has time to make ornaments. He has to help Mr. Turner deliver Christmas trees to other families.” Kristen gently ushered her daughter back to the coffee table. “Sorry,” she mouthed to him.
“I think I have time for one snowflake,” Tate offered. He sat down on the carpet next to Chloe.
She handed him a pair of children’s scissors and a white piece of construction paper. “Here, you can make a snowflake. Danielle is coloring the reindeer.”
“Thank you.” Tate smiled and made various zigzag cuts into the white paper. He remembered doing this himself when he was her age. He and his mother used to make homemade decorations for their tree. How quickly forgotten memories come back, he mused.
He glanced over at Danielle, who quietly filled in lines with a brown crayon. She looked to be one or two years younger than Chloe. “Hi. Do you like to color?” he asked.
Danielle ignored Tate’s question and continued to move her crayon back and forth.
“She doesn’t talk to strangers,” Chloe said. “She’s four, and I’m five.”
“That’s quite all right. So, Chloe, what are you asking Santa Claus for this year?”
“Oh, Santa doesn’t stop here.” She picked up a silver glitter stick and glided it across her snowflake.
“He doesn’t? Why not?” Judging by the trailer’s contents, he suspected he knew the answer.
She shrugged her tiny shoulders. “Momma says he runs out of time because we are the last trailer in the park. She said she talked to him at the mall, and this year, he wants to see our tree. We’ve been working hard on these decorations, so he’ll see our pretty tree from the window and want to come in.”
Tate’s heart melted. “Well, I’m sure he’s going to love these decorations. And you know what he’s going to want when he gets here?”
“What?” Chloe’s eyes widened.
“Christmas cookies! And
Similar Books
