Page 99 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
“We went over this, Betty. He was probably excited to see you. He even said it.”
“I know, but I just... I don’t know. Was that stupid to drive all the way over there to give him an ornament? That was stupid. Like clingy. Did it look clingy?”
She smirks. “Not at all. You said he appreciated it, right?”
“He did. He was excited to see that our ornaments made it through the night.”
“See, there you have it. He was excited. That’s all you need to worry about, okay? Atlas is a genuine guy, so he won’t lie to you. When he says something, he means it.”
“Yeah, I’m starting to see that.” I pick up a dish that’s in the shape of a Christmas tree with a green truck piled with unadorned Christmas trees painted on it. It reminds me of Atlas, and for a brief second, I think about getting it for him but then remember that would be weird. We’re not really close enough for me to buy him a Christmas plate and tell him that it reminded me of him. Especially when I’m also in the process of devising a business plan that’s supposed to put him and his family out of business.
Speaking of said business plan, I have yet to put one together. Uncle Dwight texted me this morning to see how it was going, and I told him that I was still immersing myself and needed some more time. It’s the second time I’ve canceled on him, and if I do it again, I know he’ll think something’s up. I don’t have it in me to meet with him at the moment, not when I’m feeling so confused inside.
I’m picking up signs that while Atlas is generous to Kringletown, community focused, kind, and thoughtful, and therefore perceived so well here, my uncle doesn’t have that same... esteem. People don’t light up at the mention of his name. They respect him, there’s no doubt about that, but they don’t seem to hold the same level of admiration for him.And yet I’m expected to destroy the Maxheimer family business.And that’s getting harder and harder to want, the more I feel for Atlas.
“This might be me overstepping, and please tell me if I’m wrong,” Storee says. “But it seems to me that maybe you might like Atlas.”
I run my fingers over the edge of the plate, taking in the embossed pattern. “Yeah, I, uh, I think I might, and I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t even know him that well still, but...” I sigh and put the plate down. “Can I tell you this in confidence?”
Storee nods. “Of course.”
“Thank you.” I turn toward her and say, “He doesn’t seem like the guy that my uncle has portrayed him to be, and that’s really confusing. I thought that he was this bad guy who hurt my uncle, and taking over his farm would be so easy—remorseless—but the more time I spend with Atlas, the more I realize that he’s really not that guy. And I don’t know, maybe my uncle has experienced something different with him, but the whole plan just seems... off.”
“Well, I don’t know what Dwight has gone through when it comes to Atlas, and I haven’t lived in this town long enough to even pretend to know, but what I can tell you is that what you see with Atlas is all real. Every single bit of it. He’s a good guy, inside and out. It doesn’t get more genuine than him. And I’m not just saying that because I want you to change your mind. I’m saying that because I mean it.”
I nod and then move down the aisle. “I kind of wish that wasn’t the case.”
“Why?”
“Because.” I spot a pickup truck with a tree in the back of it, and my mind goes right back to Atlas and his ornament. “It would be so much easier if he was a jerk, but now that I know a little bit about him, it’s making it harder to consider my uncle’s offer.”
“I can understand that.” Storee thinks about it for a second. “Why don’t you give it some thought, sleep on it, and maybe start drawing up ideas of something else you can do with the land? Something that you think would be a great contribution to the town, something the whole community can get behind,rather than trying to take out an already existing business?” She shrugs. “Then you can present it to Dwight. When he’s happy, you can move forward with seeing where things can go with Atlas. Just my two cents.”
“That all seems pretty bold, and I’m not that bold of a person,” I say, hating that I even said the words myself. I wish I was bold. I wish I was more take-charge, but at the end of the day, I’m a people pleaser, and I make decisions based on how people will see me, not what’s best for me. It’s something I’ve been working on. Clearly not doing a good job so far.
“I understand that. Sometimes it’s hard to find your voice, but if you keep working at it, you will find it at some point when you need it the most.”
I turn toward Storee, so happy that I ran into her at Evergreen Farm. “Thank you. I feel really lucky that I can call you a friend.”
“So do I.”
Chapter Seventeen
Max
Narrator: Okay, I know what you’re thinking. How can Storee still put on this show for Betty, playing the trickster behind the scenes, and act like they’re friends?
Well, here’s the thing you need to know: The moment Storee noticed Max had heart eyes for Betty, she threw his stupid plan—drawn-out diagram included—right out the window. She has a plan of her own, and it’s called being the Cupid Christmas matchmaker.
Max might be busy trying to save his family farm.
Betty might be busy trying to figure out her feelings for Max and what to do with the land.
But Storee... she has a bigger plan, and it seems like it’s going like clockwork.
Storee:Don’t come to the clubhouse tonight. I think Cole is onto me. I can’t keep visiting Aunt Cindy at night. Want to meet up at Warm Your Spirits tomorrow morning?
Max:Of course he’s sniffing us out. Tell him to mind his own business.
