Dan was still talking and she came up out of her own thoughts to pay attention. “Got a good healthy crop up there and the latest batch of Fraser fir seedlings are coming along. The balsam firs are in even better shape. Should be fine over the winter.”
“That’s good news,” she said, letting her gaze slide across the pines and firs they passed along the way. Most of the bigger trees she saw wore brightly colored tags, with the name of their adopted family painted on in script.
Her Adopt-A-Tree program was really starting to catch on.
Scotch pines bristled against her bare arms as she walked past and Ivy noticed the pristine shaping her crews had managed. The scent of evergreen filled her head and wrapped her in a familiar sense of comfort.
She loved all of her trees, of course, but her favorite by far was the Fraser fir. It was the tree her own family always had in the house and she thought personally that no other Christmas tree reached the same stage of perfection. The color, the scent, the height and width. It was as if God Himself had designed the perfect tree. All the Angel family had to do was grow them.
Her sneakers kicked up dirt in the rows between the trees and she idly noticed that it was time to get the crews out to thin the weeds. From a distance, she heard the sound of kids laughing. That was the main reason she loved what she did so much. They weren’t just growing and selling trees here. They were making memories for families. Making Christmas as special to everyone else as it was to her.
“Maude says to tell you she sold the Wedding Ring quilt to that young couple from Fresno.”
“Oh, that’s great,” Ivy said, remembering the couple who had wandered the farm area for hours before coming in and booking their wedding. Satisfaction rolled through her but not just for her own operation’s success, but the town’s, as well. Every piece of handcrafted beauty the shop sold, helped a craftsman in town. And with every job saved, they made Cabot Valley a little more secure.
As they approached the shearing crew, Dan walked on ahead, but Ivy stopped in her tracks. She turned her head and glanced over at Tanner’s house. She could just see the roof and chimney from this perspective, and she wondered what he was doing. If he was lonely in his self made prison.
But mostly, she wondered what he would say if he could see her here.
Where she really belonged.
Five
Ivy’s nervous bride was taking a lot of her energy.
Patsy Harrington had lots of ideas, but most of the major decisions had already been made and changing them now was only going to create chaos. In dealing with the brides, Ivy had learned that being firm but supportive was the only real way to survive.
“We talked about this last time, remember?” Ivy pointed to the creek where a new bridge was being constructed. “You wanted to be able to pose for photos at the bridge, with the trees in the background.”
“Yes,” Patsy said, hitching her designer handbag higher on her shoulder, “but I was thinking that maybe it would be better to be in the middle of the trees instead. That way, we’re surrounded by the greenery and our wedding clothes will really pop in the photos.”
Ivy gave a small, inward sigh. She had her crew building the very bridge that Patsy had insisted on. And, she didn’t really want an entire wedding party trooping through the tree lines. “But, your dress could get ruined that way, too, with the dirt and fertilizer…” She purposely stopped, letting her words trail off so that Patsy would come to the right decision as she considered things.
“True…” The woman chewed at her bottom lip and looked back at the creek and the graceful arch of the soon to be finished bridge. “And it is very pretty down by the stream.”
“It is,” Ivy agreed. “Plus, as we discussed, we’ll have pine boughs attached to the railings with white ribbon and the flowers you selected. “It’s a gorgeous spot for pictures, Patsy. Couldn’t ask for better.”
“I suppose,” she said, nodding. Her expertly cut hair swung out from her chin in a graceful arc as she turned back to Ivy. “Okay then, never mind. Honestly, I don’t know how you put up with me, Ivy. I’m driving my own mother insane and my fiancé keeps threatening to kidnap me and elope!”
“Oh, can’t have that!” Ivy had one brief, hideous vision of the wedding being canceled and her loan coming due. No, no. “The wedding’s going to be beautiful, Patsy. You’ll see. You’ve made all the tough decisions, now all you have to do is trust us to pull it together.”
“You’re right,” the woman said, checking her slender wristwatch. “And I should get going. I’ve got an appointment in town to talk to the florist.”
Carol Sands owned the only flower shop in town and hardly ever got he opportunity to show off her artistic abilities. The Harrington wedding was giving the whole town a chance to shine and they were all eager to prove themselves.
“Carol’s very excited about doing the flowers for your wedding,” Ivy said. “And we all appreciate the fact that you’re using the local suppliers this way.”
“Only makes sense,” Patsy told her as they started walking across the farm toward the front gate. Laughing, she added, “I know I don’t seem like it lately, but I’m actually pretty level-headed.”
“All brides get a little weirded out at times,” Ivy reassured her.
Patsy let her gaze slide across the rows of trees and what looked like endless miles of bright blue sky. “I just loved this place the moment I came across your Web site. And when Tom and I came to look around, I knew this was where I wanted to hold my wedding.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I think it’s beautiful here, too.”
“Oh, it really is,” Patsy agreed. “And, since I live in Sacramento, it would be crazy to try and use city florists and musicians when I can get everything I need right here in Cabot Valley.”
“Exactly what we love to hear,” Ivy told her. This is what she’d been hoping for by expanding her farm. Her friends and neighbors would be part of the enterprise and the entire town would eventually benefit.
The two women continued to talk over plans as they wandered across the farm.
Maybe, Tanner told himself, Mitchell and Ivy were right. Maybe he had been too closed off since he moved to Cabot Valley. Maybe the mistake he’d made when angry about the Christmas tree farm was in going to the sheriff instead of dealing with the owners directly.
He stared out his office window at the swarms of people wandering the farm’s long neat rows of trees. From his vantage point, he could see one corner of the parking lot where dozens of cars were clustered behind a partial screen of bushes. It was definitely a booming business that he’d already learned was important to the locals.