Robyn Neeley - Christmas Dinner

When she turned around to greet them, he saw a bright Christmas tree in the middle of her sweater. He stifled the urge to laugh. The Turners certainly loved their Christmas trees.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. Breakfast is on the stove.” She motioned to empty plates on the counter.

“Morning, Mom.” Amanda gave her a quick peck on the cheek.

Diane turned to Tate. “You must be the man my mother-in-law has been going on and on about meeting last night.”

“Guilty as charged. I’m Tate. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Turner. Amanda has told me so much about you, but she failed to mention the source of her beautiful looks.”

Diane chuckled. “Aren’t you a charmer. It’s nice to meet you, too. We’ve heard so . . . so little about you, but welcome. How did you sleep?”

“Like a light.”

“I bet you did. You and my daughter had quite an evening.” She raised her eyebrow at Amanda.

Amanda shifted restlessly. “Mom!”

Was he missing something?

Amanda sat at the kitchen’s center island. “It was a long trip. We can recap it later. We’re looking forward to helping out today. Did I tell you Tate lived in Hammondsport when he was a kid?”

“You didn’t really tell me anything about Tate, now did you?” Diane grinned. “Tate, does your family still live there?”

“No, my mom and I moved away when I was thirteen.”.”

“Well, it’s a lovely town. Can I get you some breakfast?”

“Only if it’s not too much trouble, and I can help you later decorate those Christmas cookies you’re baking.” He pointed to the mixing bowl. “I could smell the batter as soon as I entered the kitchen. Say, do you put eggnog in your cookies by any chance?”

Diane’s face lit up. “Why, yes. Yes, I do. Would you like a little sample?” She rummaged through the silverware drawer and pulled out a spoon. She scooped a large dollop of batter and handed it to Tate. “Not many people can guess that eggnog is my secret ingredient.”

Tate closed his eyes and tasted the batter. He grinned. “Just like I remembered.” His gaze rested on Amanda. It wasn’t the first time he’d tasted Diane Turner’s cookies. A fact he longed to share with his co-anchor. He handed the spoon to Diane. “Amazing, thank you.”

Diane patted his shoulder. “Amanda, why don’t you pour Tate a cup of coffee? Tate, did your mom use eggnog in her recipe?”

“No, she wasn’t much of a baker.”

“Where is she now?” Diane began to scoop the batter onto a cookie tray. “Is she disappointed you aren’t home this weekend?”

“She died when I was sixteen.” He glanced over at Amanda, her face full of concern. His heart melted.

“My dear boy. I’m so sorry. Pull up a stool and have some breakfast.”

Tate watched Mrs. Turner bustle around, fixing him a plate. How could he share the story of his mom passing when those memories inevitably led back to these very Christmas cookies and Amanda?

“Are you sure I can’t help you with those Christmas cookies, Mrs. Turner? Maybe roll out the batter for you?” Tate called from the foyer. He smirked at Amanda. “She loves me.”

Diane poked her head out of the kitchen’s doorway. “No, no. Mr. Turner and Alex could use your help lifting the trees into the trucks. When you get back tonight, I’ll be sure there are cookies and warm cocoa waiting for you.”

“I can’t wait,” Tate said.

Diane pointed to Amanda. “Dear, go introduce Tate to your father and then come help me welcome the volunteers. We’ll be loading the decorations soon.”

“Sure thing, Mom.”

“Chop, chop. We’ve got lots of families to visit.” Diane clapped her hands and disappeared.

Amanda pulled out their jackets from the closet. She was thinking about the conversation Tate just had with her mother. He had lost his mother at an early age. And where was his father? She shouldn’t have teased him yesterday that his family didn’t invite him home for Christmas.

“Here you go.” She handed him his jacket.

“Thanks.” He yanked his zipper halfway up.

“Say, um . . . I’m sorry to hear about your mom.” She looked at him and then down at her Uggs. She was never good at these kinds of conversations.

“It was a long time ago. It’s just—those cookies take me back. Way back. It’s the eggnog, you know.” He rubbed his hands together. “Is this the part where I spend the day outside helping your father?”

She brightened. “Yes, and Alex. Think your southern blood can handle being outside all day?” She opened the door. It was chilly but the sun was shining.

Tate zipped his jacket all the way up to his neck. “I think I can handle it. Remember, I did live here for a bit.”

“Hey, I wonder if we ever ran into each other at the mall or movies or something? How funny would that be?”

He gazed past her up at the snowy hills. “So how many trees are we delivering today?”

Why was he changing the subject? For some reason, he didn’t seem to want to talk about his past. Amanda, let it go. “I’m not sure. I haven’t seen my father’s list.”

“He keeps a list, huh? Checks it twice.”

“Very funny. My guess is around fifty. A tree is delivered complete with a tree stand, decorations, and angel or star for its top.”

“And your parents donate all the decorations?”

“Yep, with the help of local businesses.”

“How in the world do they get fifty trees delivered and decorated in one day?”

Amanda patted his shoulder. “You’ll see.”

“Great.” He clapped his hands together. “I’m ready.”

“You’ll be with my dad and brother this morning, roping firs and preparing them for transport. Then you’ll assist in the deliveries.”

“And what will you be doing?”

“I’m sure my mom’s got me assigned to help with the volunteers. I’ll meet up with you later this afternoon.” She laughed. “Then we’ll come home and I’m sure my mother and grandmother will fawn all over you this evening.”

“I like that part.” He chuckled. “Sounds like today will be fun. He reached out and touched her shoulder. “I’m really glad to be here.”

“Me too.” She felt her cheeks heat. “I mean we always can use the extra help.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“A regular Santa’s elf.” She smirked but then grew serious. “Today brings so much joy you just want to bottle it up and keep it with you for the whole year. You’ll see. Just wait until you witness the smiles on all the kids you meet. It’s really incredible.”

She dug her hands into her jacket pockets and kicked the snow on the ground with her boot. “But it also can be heartbreaking. I mean, many of these families have experienced some really awful things, and some of these folks have been getting trees from my family on this day for years. It can be a real sad dose of reality.”

“Amanda!” her dad called as he quickly made his way up the snowy path. He stopped and greeted them.

“Hi, Dad.”

“Good to see you.” He gave her a big hug.

She enthusiastically returned his embrace. She had missed her father.

“And is this the stranger my mother can’t stop talking about?” Her father extended a hand to Tate.

“Hi, Mr. Turner. I’m Tate.” He shook her father’s hand.

“Please call me Jack. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tate. I trust that Amanda has filled you in on the work we do today.”

“She has and I’m honored to help out, sir.”

“You’re in for a special day,” her father said, eyes twinkling. “Amanda, why don’t you take Tate over to help Alex. The boys can get acquainted and load the first round of trees. I need to run to my office and pick up the delivery roster for this morning,” he said and winked. “And grab a sugar cookie or two for the road.”

“See ya, Dad.” Amanda grabbed Tate’s hand. “Let’s go.” They reached the foot of the hill and the opening of the tree lot. “Hey, little brother,” she called out. “Are you here?”

“Hey, Mandy.” Alex popped his head out from inside the back of his truck. He jumped down. “Hi.” He stared straight at Tate, his curt greeting freezing in mid-air.

Amanda broke the awkward silence. “I’m going to leave you two to do your work. Alex, please be gentle on him,” she said and patted Tate’s chest for extra good measure.

“Oh, I’ll be gentle on him, Mandy. Don’t you worry,” Alex replied. “It will be a day he’ll never forget.”

She left the two and headed back up the hill. How could she get Alex to warm up to the idea that she and Tate were a couple? Maybe Tate would have better luck. She looked back. Of course he would; he was Mr. Quick Thinker. He’d spin some lie. By the time Tate was done with him, Alex would probably announce that he’d be Tate’s best man someday.

Halfway up, she spotted Jingles, galloping toward her with his tail wagging.

“Jingles, what are you doing out here?” Amanda bent down to pet her furry friend who now sported a doggie red sweater, identical to the one her mother had on. The Christmas tree covered his entire fury backside. “Seriously? Did Mom put this on you?” She straightened up. “Doesn’t anyone in this family get today off?” She laughed. “All right, Jingles. Where to next?”

As if he understood her question, the Jack Russell sprinted back up the hill toward her dad’s office, a smaller log cabin to the right of the main house.

“You can run, but you can’t hide from Christmas,” she yelled. “Or apparently my mother,” she muttered and followed Jingles to see if her dad needed any help.

“Dad, are you in here?” she called out, opening the door to the office.

“Amanda? Just putting on my Christmas sweater. Be right out,” her father said, emerging seconds later from the back room. His sweater matched her mother’s—and Jingles’s—perfectly.