Dinah saw him approach, his step diffident, under the string of electric lights that rimmed the Christmas tree lot. Technically, the lot was supposed to be manned by at least two attendants, even this last night of operation, but her working partner had relented to family pressure at the last minute, leaving Dinah on her own.

Naturally, she told herself, she was a little bit paranoid when a childless man stepped into her space. She bit her lip and prayed a quick, fast mutter to God that this guy was “all right” and not a stalker or thief or rapist.

She crossed the flocking-covered strip in the middle of the pine-scented rectangle, inhaling deeply and exhaling a Christmas-lit breath cloud into the chilled night air. A low fog was rolling in, another reason to be on her guard. “Merry Christmas,” she said with an edgy brightness. “Can I help you?”

He smiled crookedly and raked one hand through the dark gold waves of his hair. “Uh, I hope so,” he rumbled. He wore a creased leather bomber jacket, faded black jeans and biker boots. She didn’t recall hearing a motorcycle – one of those was not conducive to bringing home a Christmas tree, anyway. “I, ah, need a tree. For my kids.”

She smiled and brought her hands together. “That’s what I’m here for! Are your children with you to choose?” Fishing, fishing…

“Uh, no. They’re at home. See, we just moved in yesterday and don’t have a lot of money for anything for the holiday…” He looked down as he said this, and something about him – the catch in his voice, the scuffed boots, or maybe the way the light caught the rugged lines of his face – made Dinah relax in her middle, where a ball of tension had been rolling since she had found out that Tyler wasn’t going to make it for their shared shift. The man cleared his throat. “So. Um we need a tree and I hoped I could get one for ten bucks.”

Inwardly, Dinah winced, but she remembered a couple who had come by the night before. “We’re going out of town but wanted to support this organization anyway, so take this,” the woman had said, handing over a fifty dollar bill. “You’ll know when the right family needs it.”

The cash was still in a hidden spot in the trailer where Dinah was staying tonight, with the trees. “Well, let’s take a look,” she said, infusing her voice with heartiness, thanking God that someone had provided for this situation. “It’s the last night; I’m sure we can find something that’ll work for you. How old are your children?”

He met her eyes, then, and she felt as if she blushed. Hoped it didn’t show. His eyes seemed to glow in the unforgiving white lights that still gleamed through the ever-thickening clouds. “Six and four.” He finger-combed his hair again. “They’re not by themselves, don’t worry, ma’am,” he said in his rumbling way. “My sister’s with ‘em. She’s been a big help.”

“Well,” Dinah said, pushing her innate curiosity aside as inappropriate, “Here are some trees that might suit you. Douglas fir,” she went on, pointing to the lushly-feathered trees on their temporary stands. There was not a one in this space that was shorter than six feet. She whisked a price tag from the most beautiful. $85. “I can let you have this one for ten,” she told the man.

He took a step back and cocked his head in patent disbelief. “It’s gotta be eight feet tall,” he demurred. “It can’t be ten dollars.”

She smiled and ripped the tag off with a flourish. “For you, sir, and your children, ten dollars.”

“I don’t want the kids to lose money for their charity,” he said, pointing to the plastic banner announcing the name of the organization. “So don’t mess with that, okay?”

Dinah extended her hand to him. After a moment, he took it. “No one is losing anything,” she said, not even thinking of the twenty-five dollars she’d be kicking in to make up the cost of the tree. “Someone has already provided for it to be paid for.” At his suspicious frown, she smilingly shook her head. “Seriously, sir.”

At last, he smiled. A slow smile that transformed the hard-lived lines around his eyes and on his forehead to bring back a youthfulness that she had not suspected lurked inside of him. With half a shrug, he dug into his pocket for a black leather billfold, as worn as his boots. “All right, then,” he said, slipping what was obviously the last bill from the wallet. After a moment, he smiled more broadly and handed her something else. “Here’s my card,” he said. “If I haven’t scared you off, maybe you could drop me an email after the holiday?” She started and blinked at him, pulling away to put his card in the hip pocket of her blue jeans. He held both hands up, as if in apology. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what made me say that.”

She grinned. “Mr. Gary Ericsson, please do not apologize. Let me get my card and reciprocate the invitation, shall I? You can, though, if you want, cart your tree to the stand-assembly so I can fix that up for you.”

“What’s your name,” he called as she stepped away. “I feel at a disadvantage!”

She laughed, and the sound made him jolt in shock had she but seen it. “I’m Dinah Pullotka,” she tossed over her shoulder before disappearing into the trailer with its lantern at the door. By the time she reappeared, a business card in her hand, Gary had already begun pounding the tree stand to the bottom of the chosen tree. She had to smile. Gone was the anxious, embarrassed single dad who had come to her a quarter of an hour ago. In his place was a confident craftsman, who ran – his card said – his own shop and who was in his element, working with wood, however crude the construction might be.

“I thank you for doing my job,” Dinah said, passing him her card after he had wiped his hands off on his jeans. He bent over to brush sawdust from his legs and she could smell the way the pinescent clung to him. She thought it very masculine.

He stood up and grinned. “Least I could do,” he assured her, pulling the tall tree upright without visible effort.

The two of them carried the tree to his car, and Dinah was not fully paying attention as they tied it down on a blanket he had brought in preparation. Instead, she caught herself watching her Christmas Eve customer, wondering if he were for real.

“I hope your kids like the tree,” she said as he prepared to leave.

His eyes were far away. “I”m sure they’ll be completely surprised. We didn’t think we’d have a tree, this year.” He raked his hair again. “Thank you. You’ve made two – no, three – people very happy this Christmas.”

He left, then, and she returned to her post in the lot, where she began the slow wrapping of the remaining trees. Binding the branches and stacking them for the loaders the day after Christmas.

The fog eventually convinced her to lock the gate, turn off the lights, and get warm in the trailer. As she was reaching the final switch for the final string of lights, a sedan pulled over the gravel of the lot, its headlights splashing her with overbright light for a moment before the driver shut them off.

“Hey!” a familiar voice called as she peered out. “Are you closed?”

“Gary?” she asked as the car door closed.

“And us! Thank you for the tree!”

Dinah laughed softly in surprise as a six year old boy and a four year old girl ran to her. “Merry Christmas,” she said to them.

Their father presented her with a hot thermos. “Some cocoa,” he said. “I felt badly for you, here by yourself.”

“No worries,” she said, brushing off his concern automatically. “But thank you. Let me go pour this –”

“No,” he said, stopping her with his hand on her arm. “Please. Keep it. I’ll get it back after Christmas.”

Nonplused, she could only smile incredulously at him. “Thank you,” she finally murmured.

“Merry Christmas, Dinah,” he said in answer. The children echoed him before they disappeared into the dark. She heard them get into the car, and the headlights flashed at her in farewell before they drove off into the night.

“Merry Christmas,” she said to the thick air. “And I have the feeling it’s going to be a happy new year.”
Fifteen minutes had changed her life. She was still laughing softly to herself as she poured a cup of excellent cocoa from the steel thermos.

The following year found a family of four manning the same lot on Christmas Eve. Gary and Dinah Ericsson and their children, aged seven and five, with one on the way. It had, indeed, been a very good year.

Copyright 2006 by Sandi Layne