Bright Lights, Big Christmas(37)

“That’s what I suggested, but Murphy isn’t keen to sell just any old trees. He’s pretty picky about quality. I guess I agree. It’s the family brand, and we don’t want to harm that.”

“He’s got a valid point.”

“What about our date?” Austin clamored. “When do we eat? I’m hungry. Aren’t you hungry, Kerry?”

“You know what? I’m starved,” she said. “I didn’t even get lunch.”

“Then let’s go,” Austin said.

“Can you?” Patrick asked.

Kerry glanced at the trailer. She could hear her brother’s muffled snores.

“I’d have to wake up Murphy. He worked all day too.” She looked down at herself. Her jeans were smudged with dirt and her hands were sticky from pine sap.

She longed for a hot shower and the chance to show off her new sweater.

“Can you just close up the stand?” Patrick asked. “There aren’t a whole lot of trees left to sell tonight.”

“Look at me,” she protested. “I’m a hot mess.”

“We won’t go far,” Patrick promised.

She looked down at Austin, whose face was scrunched up with hope.

She untied her green Tolliver Tree Farm apron and tossed it on the back of the chair. “I’m officially off the clock. If Murphy wakes up, he can take the next shift.”





chapter 28





“Bernie’s Burgerz,” Austin said, as they entered the restaurant. “My favorite.”

Patrick offered Kerry an apologetic smile. “We usually go out to dinner whenever he’s with me, and it was his turn to choose, so here we are.”

A middle-aged Black woman with close-cropped silver hair came out from behind the hostess stand and greeted Austin like a beloved celebrity.

“Austin, where you been lately? I been missing you,” the woman exclaimed, kneeling on the floor and enveloping the boy in a hug.

“Hi, Bernie. I go to school now, you know.”

She ruffled his hair. “I knew there was something different about you since the last time you were in here. You’re all grown up.” She tapped his bow tie. “And all dressed up too. Like your daddy. Is it somebody’s birthday tonight?”

“No. Me and Dad are having a date with her.” He jerked his thumb in Kerry’s direction. “Her name is Kerry. She sells Christmas trees and draws pictures. And she’s my friend.”

Bernie took Kerry’s hand in both of hers and pressed them together. “Well, isn’t she a lucky lady? Y’all go on back over. I’ve got your favorite booth, right over there by the window.”



* * *



After they were settled with wine for the adults and lemonade for Austin, Patrick ordered an appetizer of chili-cheese-smothered tater tots.

“Oh my gosh,” Kerry moaned, at the first bite. “This is heaven.”

“The hamburgers are the best. In the whole world,” Austin advised.

“Of course, there are lots of other choices on the menu,” Patrick said. “Chicken, fish, steaks. They have great salads…”

“Who orders salad in a place called Bernie’s Burgerz? That would be an outrage. I’ll have a burger, medium rare, with all the fixings.”

“Don’t forget the French fries,” Austin said.

Once their orders arrived, it was all she could do not to fall on her burger and devour it like a half-starved hyena.

The flow of conversation over dinner was so relaxed and easy, she forgot about her usual first-date jitters. No sweaty palms, butterflies, or angsting over what she was wearing or how she looked. She was sure her father would have described her as looking “like you been rode hard and put up wet,” but Patrick didn’t seem to mind.

He was an easy conversationalist. “What was it like, growing up on a Christmas tree farm?” he asked.

“You’d have to ask Murphy,” Kerry said. “I haven’t lived on the farm full time since my parents split up when I was about Austin’s age.”

The boy looked up. “Kerry, did your mom and dad get a divorce too?”

She glanced at Patrick, who shrugged.

“They did.”

“Were you sad?”

“It was a very long time ago, but yes, I was sad at first.”

“Me too,” he said, in a matter-of-fact way.

Kerry chose her next words carefully. “My mom promised that she and my dad still loved me, but they just didn’t need to be married anymore. After a while, I realized my mom was happier, so that made me happier too.”

Austin gave that some thought. “Huh. I wonder when my mom will be happier again. She still yells at my dad and acts mad at him.”

Patrick winced. “She’s not mad at you, buddy. Neither of us is.”

“I know.” He picked up another French fry and dipped it in ketchup.

She tried to steer the conversation back into neutral territory. “I did spend weekends and parts of the summer on the farm. And it seemed pretty magical when I was there. Dad had chickens, because he just likes chickens, and he kept goats, to help keep the weeds in check, and I even had a pet baby goat of my own.”