Douglas fir was voted the number-two overall Christmas tree in America, second only to the South’s Fraser fir, which, I assume, is a real fir tree.
• Max only sells Douglas firs.
Max tied the tree to the top of Nicole’s Malibu and we drove home. After we had carried in all the food and put it away in the fridge, I grabbed a steak knife to cut the twine and went out to get the tree.
Our tree was gone.
I couldn’t believe it. I shouted for Nicole from the porch and she came running outside.
“What?”
“Someone stole our tree.”
“Right now?”
“Right off the car.” I looked at her. “Who steals a Christmas tree?”
“Well, it
was
a Douglas fir,” Nicole said, “the second-most-popular Christmas tree in the world.”
I looked at her and grinned. “Do you think there’s a black market for Douglas firs?”
“Huge market for stolen and kidnapped trees. We’ll probably get a ransom note any minute.”
“Won’t our thief be surprised when he learns that it’s not even a real fir.”
“Fake fir,” Nicole said. “It would be like stealing a diamond ring and finding out it was only a zirconia.”
“It would be just like that,” I said.
We both burst out laughing. Then we went back to the store for another tree. Max gave us his “friends and family” discount of ten percent off our second one.
That evening we decorated the tree. After we finished, Nicole came out with the silver picture frame with a smiling photograph of her son. She set it on top of the television.
“He’s a handsome kid,” I said.
She smiled sadly. “Welcome back, son.”
CHAPTER
Twenty-one
There can be no joy without gratitude.
Alan Christoffersen’s diary
The next morning Nicole rapped on my door, then walked in. “Morning.”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I said.
“Happy Thanksgiving to you. I called in sick to work again.”
“How did that go?”
“My boss wasn’t happy. I don’t think she was buying it.”
“Did you try to sound sick?”
“I did. But I’m not very good at it. I wonder if I’ll get fired.”
“I think you should just quit.”
“Why? It’s an important job.”
“It is. But it depresses you.”
“You’re right, but I can’t quit. I need the money. Besides, what do you do with a major in film studies? No, an
uncompleted
major in film studies.”
“You could get a job at a theater. You could, like, sell popcorn.”
She playfully hit me. “That will certainly pay the bills.”
“We just need to find you a job with a little more positive energy.” I looked over at the clock. “And we’ve got a lot of cooking to do. When should we put the turkey in?”
“Eight pounds, right?”
“Yes.”
“It will probably take three hours. I’d allow three and a half to four, just in case.”
“That would be right now,” I said. “On it.” I climbed out of bed.
Nicole began making rolls. She asked, “Were you planning on watching movies tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“Will you tell me now what you got?”
“It’s a Wonderful Life
…”
“Good. A classic for Christmas. So why the mystery?”
“… and
Citizen Kane.”
Her smile fell and she stopped kneading the dough. “Why did you choose that?”
“You spent months creating a timeline I want to derail.”
She looked at me for a moment, then went back to her rolls. “You’re very wise,” she said.
“I think so,” I said.
She threw a handful of flour at me.
Bill the landlord arrived early (his Old Spice arrived a few seconds earlier), a little before noon. He was dressed up as if he were going to church, wearing a hat, suspenders, and a red polka-dot bow tie. He brought a box of caramels with walnuts and a bottle of Cold Duck.
“Thank you for the invitation,” he said to Nicole, taking off his hat as he entered. “I wish you’d reconsider moving.” He turned to me. “Angel’s been my best tenant.”
“I’ve decided to stay,” she said. “Just bring me a new lease.”
“A new lease on
• Max only sells Douglas firs.
Max tied the tree to the top of Nicole’s Malibu and we drove home. After we had carried in all the food and put it away in the fridge, I grabbed a steak knife to cut the twine and went out to get the tree.
Our tree was gone.
I couldn’t believe it. I shouted for Nicole from the porch and she came running outside.
“What?”
“Someone stole our tree.”
“Right now?”
“Right off the car.” I looked at her. “Who steals a Christmas tree?”
“Well, it
was
a Douglas fir,” Nicole said, “the second-most-popular Christmas tree in the world.”
I looked at her and grinned. “Do you think there’s a black market for Douglas firs?”
“Huge market for stolen and kidnapped trees. We’ll probably get a ransom note any minute.”
“Won’t our thief be surprised when he learns that it’s not even a real fir.”
“Fake fir,” Nicole said. “It would be like stealing a diamond ring and finding out it was only a zirconia.”
“It would be just like that,” I said.
We both burst out laughing. Then we went back to the store for another tree. Max gave us his “friends and family” discount of ten percent off our second one.
That evening we decorated the tree. After we finished, Nicole came out with the silver picture frame with a smiling photograph of her son. She set it on top of the television.
“He’s a handsome kid,” I said.
She smiled sadly. “Welcome back, son.”
CHAPTER
Twenty-one
There can be no joy without gratitude.
Alan Christoffersen’s diary
The next morning Nicole rapped on my door, then walked in. “Morning.”
“Happy Thanksgiving,” I said.
“Happy Thanksgiving to you. I called in sick to work again.”
“How did that go?”
“My boss wasn’t happy. I don’t think she was buying it.”
“Did you try to sound sick?”
“I did. But I’m not very good at it. I wonder if I’ll get fired.”
“I think you should just quit.”
“Why? It’s an important job.”
“It is. But it depresses you.”
“You’re right, but I can’t quit. I need the money. Besides, what do you do with a major in film studies? No, an
uncompleted
major in film studies.”
“You could get a job at a theater. You could, like, sell popcorn.”
She playfully hit me. “That will certainly pay the bills.”
“We just need to find you a job with a little more positive energy.” I looked over at the clock. “And we’ve got a lot of cooking to do. When should we put the turkey in?”
“Eight pounds, right?”
“Yes.”
“It will probably take three hours. I’d allow three and a half to four, just in case.”
“That would be right now,” I said. “On it.” I climbed out of bed.
Nicole began making rolls. She asked, “Were you planning on watching movies tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“Will you tell me now what you got?”
“It’s a Wonderful Life
…”
“Good. A classic for Christmas. So why the mystery?”
“… and
Citizen Kane.”
Her smile fell and she stopped kneading the dough. “Why did you choose that?”
“You spent months creating a timeline I want to derail.”
She looked at me for a moment, then went back to her rolls. “You’re very wise,” she said.
“I think so,” I said.
She threw a handful of flour at me.
Bill the landlord arrived early (his Old Spice arrived a few seconds earlier), a little before noon. He was dressed up as if he were going to church, wearing a hat, suspenders, and a red polka-dot bow tie. He brought a box of caramels with walnuts and a bottle of Cold Duck.
“Thank you for the invitation,” he said to Nicole, taking off his hat as he entered. “I wish you’d reconsider moving.” He turned to me. “Angel’s been my best tenant.”
“I’ve decided to stay,” she said. “Just bring me a new lease.”
“A new lease on
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