The same worry played over and over in my mind. How will she respond once she knows the truth about why I’m here?
When I got to the house I rang the doorbell. Lynette greeted me with a hug. “I’m so glad to see you again.”
“Me too.”
She looked down at the Tiffany bag but said nothing about it. “Come in; everything’s ready.”
I followed her into the dining room. The food was already on the table. “Let’s eat,” she said.
Everything was delicious, and we didn’t talk much. After a few minutes, she said, “You’re quiet today.”
I looked up and smiled. “It’s a good sign. I’m always quiet when there’s good food.”
“Thank you.”
The truth was, my mind was still shuffling through the deck of possible outcomes I was about to face. How would she respond to my stalking her? How would she respond to the edelweiss? Was it as big a deal as she’d said in her blog? What if it was too big a deal? What if she took it as a proposal? Was it one? I began to question the wisdom of giving her the flower. Still, she’d already seen the bag. I was committed.
“So, where are you off to tonight?” I asked, trying to fill the silence.
“I’m going to a soul restoration camp in Star, Idaho,” she said.
“Soul restoration?”
She nodded. “It’s part of a community of women I belong to called Brave Girls Club.”
“Are you brave?” I asked.
“I try to be.”
When we’d finished our meal she brought over a chocolate Bundt cake and started cutting it. “You’re going to have to take the rest back to the inn with you. It won’t be good when I get back.”
“I’ll share it with Ray,” I said.
“He’ll be happy.” She handed me a plate, then looked at me with a serene smile. It was time.
“I have something for you,” I said. I lifted the Tiffany bag. Her face lit with excitement. Then I took out the edelweiss and handed it to her. She looked down at my gift, then back at me. Her expression had changed from happiness to confusion. Or maybe disappointment.
“Thank you,” she finally said.
Her response wasn’t what I expected. “It’s edelweiss.”
She hesitated a moment and then said, “It’s pretty.”
“It’s pretty?”
She laughed. “Yes, it’s pretty.” A moment later she added, “Is something wrong with that?”
“No. I just expected . . . more.” (Looking back, I’m sure she was thinking the same.)
“I’m sorry. I like it. I especially like that you brought me a flower.”
I looked at her quizzically. “Didn’t your father once tell you something special about edelweiss?”
“My father? No. How do you know my father?”
“Is your father German?”
“My father’s French. Bucher is a French surname.”
I just gazed at her for a moment, then said, “Did you know that being lonely actually drops your body temperature?”
Now she looked at me as if I’d just lost my mind. Maybe I had. “Why did you just ask me that?”
“You’re not her,” I said.
“I’m not who?”
“You’re not the one I came here for.”
She looked upset. “I don’t understand. You came here looking for someone?”
I stood. “I’m so sorry. I’ve made a very big mistake.”
CHAPTER
Thirty-two
On the way from Lynette’s house I called Aria again, but there was still no answer. I drove across town to the diner and hurried inside. The restaurant wasn’t crowded, just four tables of customers, but I couldn’t see Aria anywhere.
The older waitress, Valerie, had glanced over at me as I walked in, but she didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry to help me. She finished talking to some diners, then casually walked over to me. “What can I do for you?” Her voice was hard.
“Is Aria here?”
“No, she’s not.”
“Did she work today?”
“No, she didn’t.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“Why would I know that?”
Talking to her was like pulling thistles with bare hands. Finally I said, “All right. When you see her, please tell her I came by.”
She didn’t speak for a moment, and then she said, “I don’t think I will.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t think I will. Let me tell you something about Aria. She’s one of the sweetest people I’ve ever known. She’s like a delicate piece of porcelain, precious but fragile. But a big-city man like you doesn’t care about things like that. She was supposed to be working today, but she called in sick last night. I don’t remember the last time she called in sick. It’s been years. I could tell she’d been crying. I pressed her, and she told me that you had stood her up.
“Maybe it’s okay to treat women like that where you come from, but here it’s not.” Her eyes squinted until they were almost closed, and she jabbed at me with her finger. “So you listen well, big city. If you’re going to contact her again, and I hope you don’t, but if you do, you better be good to her. Aria’s got a lot of big men with little brains who would like nothing more than to earn a few brownie points by defending her honor—if you catch my drift.”
“I catch your drift,” I said. “And no, I don’t believe in treating women that way. Things happened that were out of my control. I’m trying to find her to apologize.”
“Yeah, well, you do that. And you watch your back. We small towns have our ways.”
In one sentence she had gone from Steel Magnolias to Deliverance.
I drove directly to Aria’s house. Her Jeep was parked in front, but the house lights were out. I walked up and pounded on the door. “Aria.”
She didn’t answer. I tried calling her on the phone again, but my call still didn’t go through. I pounded again. “Aria!”
After several minutes of pounding I heard footsteps inside. The door opened slowly, slightly, the security chain still attached. Aria looked at me through the crack. “What do you want?”
“I am so sorry. I tried to call you. I called you Friday night. I tried to call you as soon as I got your messages.”
She didn’t say anything.
“Can we talk?”
“No.”
“May I explain?”
She looked at me for a moment, then said, “You have one minute.”
“Out here?”
“Where were you Saturday?”
“I’m so sorry. I had to finish the search. That’s why I came here. I thought I found her.”
“And did you?”
“I thought I did. But it wasn’t her. I made a mistake.”
“And if she had been LBH, you never would have come back?”
“I would have come back. I couldn’t stop thinking of you. I promise. Please give me another chance. I want to be with you. I still want to get that Christmas tree with you.”
“Saturday was my only day off.”
“Then we’ll go after your shift.”
“You leave tomorrow.”
“I’ll extend my stay.”
She just looked at me angrily. Then she said, “Why would you do that?”
Her words stung. For a moment I was speechless. I couldn’t believe how quickly I had messed up something so beautiful. Finally I said, “I’m sorry. I thought you might want me to.” I took a deep breath. “I’m really sorry. More than you’ll ever know. I think you’re really wonderful and brave. I loved getting to know you. I was hoping to get to know you even better.” I took another deep breath. “I’ll leave you alone.” I turned and began to walk away.
As I stepped off the porch, Aria shouted, “Did you get a permit?”
I turned back. “What?”
“You need a per
mit to cut down a tree.”
“No.”
“Get one. Tomorrow.” She shut the door.
“Okay,” I said to the closed door. “I’ll get a permit.”
CHAPTER
Thirty-three
As soon as I got back to the inn, I stopped at the front desk to extend my stay. The Shakespeare Room wasn’t available on the twenty-sixth, so they moved me to the Jane Austen Room. I didn’t care.
I walked up the stairs to my room and went right to bed. Frankly, I felt like I’d messed up more lives in this little town in the last week than I had in the last decade in Daytona Beach. I felt awful about leaving Lynette like that. She deserved better. Maybe someday I’d explain it to her, though I doubted she’d ever speak to me again. At least she was on her way to a Brave Girls soul retreat or whatever it was called. I’m sure those women would have a lot to say about me and my Tiffany bag of dried edelweiss.
Still, she had played an important role in my journey. I realized that I no longer cared about finding LBH. I was just grateful that Aria had given me a second chance.
The next morning I spent nearly forty minutes changing my flights home. Then I dressed and went downstairs to eat a light breakfast of oatmeal with milk, brown sugar, and walnuts, then headed off to get my tree-cutting permit. To my dismay, Ray had told me that I’d have to go back to the mayor’s office.
I considered myself fortunate that he didn’t ask me about Lynette. I wouldn’t have even known where to start. I felt bad that he had personally vouched for me. I hoped I hadn’t jeopardized their relationship. Or at least his monthly massages.
As I walked into the city office, the mayor remembered me.
“You’re back.”
“I’d like a permit to cut a Christmas tree. Am I at the right place?”
“You would like permission to kill one of our trees.”
“Yes, ma’am. Mayor.”
“And you still haven’t killed any of my constituency?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
She eyed me for a moment more, then said, “I will grant you a permit.” She bent over and scribbled on a form. Then she looked up and said, “That will be ten dollars.”
I gave her cash and she handed me the permit, a receipt, and a paper with the rules of tree cutting.
“Have a nice day,” I said.
“You too, Mr. Pear.”
I didn’t know if she was mocking me or if she had just confused me with one of the murder suspects in the board game Clue.
With my permit in hand, I drove into Heber for Christmas tree decorations. The only place I could find Christmas paraphernalia was a grocery store called, appropriately, The Store, and an Ace Hardware.
At The Store, I bought several boxes of colored lights, baubles, and tinsel. I also bought a package of mistletoe, hoping it might come in handy as a tension breaker. Or, worst case, to replace the prehistoric sprig of mistletoe hanging in the front of the diner.
Drew, the guy at the hardware store, took a proactive role in helping me prepare for my tree-cutting outing. He either sensed that I needed help or, more likely, since I was the only one in the store, he needed the sales. He never left my side.
Drew sold me a festive red-and-green metal tree stand, fifty feet of nylon rope to tie the tree to my car with, and a very expensive handsaw to cut the tree, as well as work gloves to handle the very expensive handsaw. He also tried to sell me a tarp to protect my car from the tree, but that’s where I drew the line.
Sometimes it takes a salesman to appreciate a good salesman. Drew was a good salesman. Our free tree was getting expensive.
By the time I finished my purchases, it was a little past noon. As I drove over to the diner to see Aria, I was pretty anxious. I had no idea how she was going to respond. It wasn’t like we had had much of a talk through the crack in the door. I never even really saw all of her face—at least not all of it at the same time. Yes, I had apologized, but I didn’t know to what extent she had accepted it. I hoped that she hadn’t changed her mind. I wouldn’t blame her if she had, but I hoped.
I walked into the diner to the Carpenters’ “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” playing on the jukebox. To my dismay, Valerie was standing at the front counter. When she saw me, her expression abruptly changed from a smile to a scowl.
“Hi, Valerie.”
She glared at me, then said in a low grumble, “I’ll tell her you’re here.”
She walked around to the kitchen, and a moment later Aria walked out. She looked at me with an expression that was difficult to read. Noticeably, she didn’t hug me. But, in fairness, she didn’t slap me either.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi,” she echoed.
I swayed nervously on the balls of my feet. “I got our permit. And decorations. And baubles and lights and tinsel. And a saw. And gloves. And a rope . . .”
To my relief she smiled. “I have a saw.”
“I can take mine back,” I said. “It was expensive.”
“Thank you. Would you like some lunch?”
“I . . .”
“Say yes.”
“Yes. I’d love some lunch.”
“Your booth’s open. Seat yourself; I’ll be right over.”
I grabbed a menu, walked over to the booth, and sat down. Aria came over a few minutes later.
“How’s your day?” I asked.
“Better than yesterday. Thank you for coming over last night. I was really hurt.”
“I’m so very, very sorry.”
“I know. You were sweet last night. And cute.”
“As long as you know I was sorry.”
“I do. And I understand. Now, what can I get you to eat?”
I ordered a Reuben sandwich and a bowl of vegetable beef soup. At the risk of offending Thelma, I passed on peach pie. Before leaving, I asked Aria what time she was off.
“I was supposed to work until nine, but Valerie said she’d work late for me. So I’m off at three.”
I was surprised to hear this; maybe even a little suspicious. “Valerie offered to work for you so you could go out with me?”
“Yes. You should thank her.”
“I’ll pass on that,” I said. “Valerie’s not really a fan.”
“Of course she is. She’s just teasing you.”
“No. She’s not. She scares me a little.”
Aria smiled. “Valerie scares you?”
“A little.”
“Well, she bought your lunch for you.”
I looked at my food, then back at her. “Are you sure she didn’t poison it?”
“She never touched it.”
“She’s a very complex woman,” I said. “I’ll be back at three.” I got up to leave, then said, “Aria, do something for me.”
“What’s that?”
“Wait for me inside the diner.”
She smiled, kissed me on the cheek, and then walked away. I looked over, and Valerie again glared at me. Then she pointed. She was very complex.
I returned to the diner a little before three. Aria was standing outside, but only because she saw me pull into the parking lot. She had changed from her waitress outfit and was wearing a parka, high boots, and a red Santa Claus cap.
“Ready for this?” she asked as she climbed into my car.
“You know,” I said, “this is a bucket-list moment for me. I’ve wanted to cut down my own Christmas tree since I was a kid. It just always looked like so much fun on those coffee commercials.”
She smiled. “I’m glad.”
“Where do we go?”
“We’re headed back over by the hot pot. Do you remember how to get there?”
“I might need some help.”
I drove the route we had followed before, though she had to show me where the turnoff was. We continued about a h
alf mile past the hot pot, which was easy to see with the steam rising off it. I kind of expected to see Cal watching us with binoculars. Or his shotgun.
“Is this all your rancher’s property?” I asked.
“This part is, but where we’re going isn’t. Otherwise we wouldn’t have needed a permit.”
“Why don’t we just take one of his trees?”
“He never offered.”
We drove on, snaking our way back and forth to the top of the mountain, which, incidentally, Aria referred to as a hill, not a mountain. The depth of the snow around us increased as we climbed in altitude, but the road was clear. Finally she said, “This is the place.”
I parked on the side of the snowbanked road and we got out. We had forgotten to go back to Aria’s to get her saw, so I had to unwrap my new one, rendering it unreturnable. At least I had a souvenir to commemorate the day.
The top of the mountain—actually, the whole mountain—was covered with trees, though most of them were much larger than we could use. It took us almost a half hour wading through knee-high snow to find the right one.
There were rules to this tree-cutting business. We could only take subalpine fir trees—Abies lasiocarpa—that were twenty feet high or shorter. I had no idea what a subalpine fir was—actually, I didn’t know the difference between a fir and a spruce—but the paper said that we could recognize the tree by its needles, which were blunt and tended to turn upward. Fortunately, Aria didn’t need the paper to find the right kind of tree; she knew exactly what we were looking for.
We picked out a tree about seven feet high, well shaped, with only one bare spot, which Aria said she would turn toward the wall.
I kicked the snow from the base of the tree, then took my saw to its trunk. I tried to make sawing through it look easy. It wasn’t easy. Aria patiently watched as I sawed and sawed and sawed my way through the base. She clapped when the tree finally fell. I dragged our subalpine fir back to the car, leaving a hundred-yard-long furrow in the virgin snow.