“What’s the rush?” Presley rubbed her temples. “Christmas is two weeks away.”
Cheyenne didn’t answer. She was too busy pulling on her coat and scarf.
“And I thought all your friends went to the Caribbean,” Presley added, slouching against the counter.
“Not all of them,” Cheyenne said.
“Who’s left?”
Anxious to get out of the house, Cheyenne didn’t even glance at her. “Riley’s still here.”
“You’re getting a tree with Riley? That’s what has you so worked up?”
“Nothing has me worked up.” Realizing that she’d forgotten to note the amount of morphine she’d given their mother in the log, she searched for a pen and wrote down the information. “How was your date last night?”
Presley scowled. “I’ve had better.”
“What movie did you see?”
“We skipped the movie.”
“So what did you do?”
“He took me back to his place.”
Tossing the pen aside, Cheyenne whirled to face her. “That’s it? You had sex?”
She shrugged. “He wasn’t a total cheapskate.”
“Meaning he provided the drugs and alcohol.”
No response.
“Why do you settle for so little?” Cheyenne knew the intensity of her words and expression would bother Presley, but she couldn’t help it. She wanted her sister to be happy and that didn’t seem possible if her sister continued down the same road as Anita.
“You have fun your way. I’ll have fun mine,” she said, shuffling back to bed.
Cheyenne watched her go, then checked the clock. If she didn’t leave now, she’d be late.
She felt a hint of misgiving as she reached for the door handle. She even pulled her cell phone from her purse and stared down at Joe’s number.
Call him. She could tell him no, put an end to whatever they’d started last night.
Her finger hovered over the button. But she’d been waiting for the chance to spend time with him for far too long.
“Today and the next Saturday with his girls. That’s all,” she promised Eve, and walked out.
8
Cheyenne had the creamiest-looking skin Joe had ever seen. He’d noticed before, of course, but as they wandered through the Christmas-tree lot in Jackson, with the cold adding a tinge of pink to her cheeks, he realized she was even prettier than he’d given her credit for. She was interesting, too. She saw the world so differently from the women he’d dated in the past.
“What about this one?” he asked. They’d finally arrived at the corner of the lot where St. Nick’s displayed their best and most expensive trees. Joe had been searching for this section all along. He knew finding it would make the decision an easy one. But Cheyenne wasn’t convinced. She scrunched up her nose as she inspected the ten-foot-high blue spruce with the $150 price tag.
“What’s wrong?” he asked. “It’s perfect.”
“That’s just it,” she said with a sigh. “It’s too perfect.”
This surprised him. “How can a Christmas tree be too perfect?”
“Anyone with enough money can buy a tree like this. An expensive artificial tree would be, technically, even more perfect—no branch out of place and that sort of thing. The challenge is to take something that has serious flaws and make it beautiful.” She turned in a slow circle, inspecting the options around them before pointing at a specimen that had been shoved off to the side. “What about that one?”
He couldn’t believe it. She’d chosen the ugliest tree he’d ever seen. Whoever owned the lot obviously agreed with him because it bore a clearance tag that read, Only $35!
To humor her, he went over and tried to stand it up straight. “You’re kidding. Look, it has a broken branch.”
She didn’t move on as he expected. “I can see that.”
“What about all the gaps and holes along the bottom, where it should be the fullest?”
“We can use garland and decorations to fill that in.”
Was she trying to help him save money? Show him how thrifty she could be? “Why mess with it? What you’d save on the tree itself, you’d spend on decorations.”
“Maybe. But bringing out this tree’s true beauty would be a worthy challenge. Then it wouldn’t have been chopped down for nothing.”
A lot of trees were going to be wasted. He couldn’t save them all. But he supposed it was refreshing that she wasn’t demanding the best money could buy. She saw value in a tree that had been tossed aside and rejected by everyone else who’d already come through.
“Now I understand why you picked the tree you did for your own house,” he joked.
She gave him a guilty-as-charged expression. “It would’ve been wasted, too.”
“I see.” He wondered how his girls would react. At eight and ten, they were still pretty young. Maybe they wouldn’t notice the tree’s imperfections. “You think you can make it look decent?”
“With enough lights and ornaments, we can make any tree look decent.”
This woman was quirky. Of course, her background and situation would make her a bit different, but he’d never thought he’d like those differences as much as he did. Suzie had known nothing but safety, security, love and praise. She’d been so terribly spoiled that she couldn’t settle for the attention of just one man; she’d had to have the attention of every man in their social circle.
Cheyenne, by contrast, had no compulsion to be the center of attention. She’d grown up living on the fringe, saw beauty in the unconventional.
“Or…maybe you’ll like that other tree better,” she said, suddenly second-guessing herself. “Get the nice one, if it suits you.”
He glanced between the two options. He’d automatically chosen the expensive, seemingly perfect Christmas tree when he’d fallen in love with Suzie. He’d been young, too young to marry, but he’d never questioned that she’d be a wonderful wife. Maybe it was time to try a tree that hadn’t been placed in the best corner of the lot, one that’d had to struggle just to survive.
It was an interesting thought. One worth considering. “I’m fine with this one,” he said, and motioned to the employee who’d been trailing them through the lot. “We’ll take it.”
The young man’s eyebrows went up. “Seriously? Dude, we were about to throw that tree out.”