Page 38 of Bright Lights, Big Christmas
“Okay,” Vic said, warming his hands over the fire. “Ready for my next assignment.”
“There’s a stepladder in the truck,” she said, handing him the keys. “You can help me hang these wreaths, and then we’ll be stringing lights. Lots and lots of lights.”
While Vic was hammering nails to the uprights supporting the Tolliver Family Tree Farm sign, Kerry opened the boxes of twinkle lights, loaded them with batteries, and tested the tiny plastic remote controls.
“All done,” Vic reported.
She pointed at the pile of lights on the worktable. “Okay. We’re gonna string these lights on the big trees at the corners of the stand.”
He took the first string and awkwardly looped it around the middle of the tree, like tightening a belt around a chubby toddler.
“Not like that,” she said, sighing. Kerry picked up a string of lights and knelt at the base of the first tree. “Start at the bottom. Shove the strand toward the trunk, and then wind it around the branch two or three times. Like so. Then, move around the tree, and start another row, maybe six inches up.”
After lunch Kerry wrapped the remaining strands of lights around the Tolliver sign. She was standing back admiring her handiwork when two women paused at the entry to the stand.
The older woman was expensively dressed and carrying a designer shopping tote, and the younger one was pushing a stroller with a drowsy toddler.
“Look at this big tree, Holly. I love how many lights are on it. And the shape is beautiful.”
“You should get this one, Mom.”
“Remember how your dad used to do the lights on our tree every year? He was so particular about it, fussed over it for hours. And I was strictly forbidden from going anywhere near it until he was done.” She looked wistful at the memory.
“My mom has always been the same way,” Kerry confided. “She’s the one who taught me to string the lights this way.”
The younger woman tugged at her mother’s sleeve. “Mom, you should see if she”—nodding at Kerry—“would hang the lights on your tree.”
“Do you do that sort of thing?” the mother asked.
“As a matter of fact, I do.” As of now, Kerry thought.
“Can I ask what you charge?”
Kerry thought quickly. “Seventy-five dollars an hour, with a two-hour minimum.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” the mother murmured. “It seems like such an extravagance.”
“Mom, you didn’t even have a tree last year, because you said thinking about it stressed you out too much. And I know it made you sad,” Holly said.
“Well… I really didn’t think I’d miss having a tree, but it’s true. It just didn’t seem like the holidays last year. It didn’t seem right.”
“Okay,” Holly said. “We’ll hire… What’s your name?”
“Kerry Tolliver.”
“Right. We’ll hire Kerry to deliver your tree, set it up, and decorate it.”
Kerry gestured toward the wreaths she’d been making. “Wouldyou want a wreath too? They’re seventy-five for the small ones, a hundred dollars for the large.”
“Yes, she would. A large one for her, and one for me. Come to think of it, could you do the same for me? Deliver, set up, and decorate?”
“If you’re in the neighborhood, I could come tomorrow, after five.”
“That’s perfect,” the mother said. She reached into her pocketbook and brought out a slim leather card case. She extracted a card and handed it to Kerry.
“I’m Adele, and this is my address.”
“I live one floor above Mom,” Holly said. “Oh, and why don’t you just plan to bring us all new sets of lights, like the ones you have here. No telling what kind of shape ours are in. I get anxiety just thinking about untangling that mess.”
