One Night with a Nutcracker (Reindeer Falls)

I even wonder if I tossed a penny into a mound of snow if it would work like tossing a penny into a fountain.

It’s a long shot, I agree.

But wouldn’t it be perfect to wake up to milk the goats and have someone at my side? Someone who cares about me? And Jake was right when he told Hudson off about the problems with the barn. And not only that, Jake doesn’t just see problems. He fixes them. I bet Jake would be the most competent project manager ever for revamping the barn, and if there is anything my scattered self finds irrationally attractive, it’s competence. He’d probably even make sure Goatvana was properly licensed and insured.

Unlike Hudson, who texted me after seeing me with Jake, asking me if I wanted to backpack across Ireland with him. The audacity, am I right? Dangling a dream adventure like I’d come running back to him.

Once upon a time I would have.

Now, not so much.

“Fine,” I say to absolutely no one. “I’ll buy the damn mini-tree and make a wish.”

After all, what could possibly go wrong?

By the time I get back to the farm with the newly acquired tree, I’m filled with seasonal optimism. I know Jake had back-to-back Zoom calls scheduled today, but I see he still took the time to prep a meal for the goats, as they’re munching on an absolute buffet of apple slices, carrots, heels of bread, and more. As if they’re giving five-star reviews, all of the goats look up at me when I arrive, bleating their satisfaction as they munch.

This is what it could be like, I think. Teamwork. Someone to depend on.

I decide to decorate the tree before showing it off to Jake. I set it up outside the Airstream and go to work embellishing it with extra twine and dried orange slices I keep on hand for my soaps. I even make a little star topper out of some sticks, fastening it together with more twine and a series of fancy knots that would impress the most talented Trooper Girl.

And I have to say, once I’m done the whole thing looks festive as hell. Even Maggie would be impressed.

Wanting Jake to see it, I head up the Airstream steps and open the door. I can hear him talking, so I assume he’s still on a Zoom call. I can wait though, and maybe even finish wrapping up some of the last-minute soap and Goat Ball orders that came in before Christmas Eve.

I’m just about to slip inside to grab my materials when I hear a loud voice on the other end of Jake’s Zoom meeting exclaim, “Oh, my God, are you in flannel?” to him.

I freeze, listening as Jake’s laughter rumbles through the Airstream.

“Just blending in with the rubes,” he says, to the sound of the rest of the Zoom call laughing.

This. Asshole.

Is he… is he mocking Reindeer Falls? What other shit has he been saying? Did they laugh about my tiny, Airstream home? Did he joke about the barn and the goats and everything else that makes up my life?

I turn away from the sound, wanting to get away from the laughter as soon as possible. But I’m stopped in my tracks by the sight of something on my dining table.

It’s a blueprint. Of a golf course. I didn’t even know a bunch of grass with a few sandboxes needed a blueprint, but there you have it.

The Reindeer Falls Golf Course.

And it hits me. While my dumb-dumb self was imagining that maybe I’d finally found my goat-children a daddy, he was working on converting their family home into a golf course.

I hate that tears prickle at my eyes. This jerk isn’t worth my tears. Not after he called me brave and told me I deserved better.

I’m swiping at my eyes when, suddenly, there’s silence on Jake’s end. Horrible awkward silence, the kind that only happens when you catch someone talking about you and they know you caught them and then there’s nowhere to go from there. I hear the snap of a laptop closing, and before he can emerge from behind my bedroom curtain, I open the Airstream door.

“You win,” I call out, one foot already on the top step. “It’s all yours. You’re in charge. Good luck.”

I bolt before he can say anything else, evicting myself before he can embarrass me any further. I’ll come back for the Airstream tomorrow. I can park it in my parents’ driveway for at least a week, until they get back from their trip. It’ll give me a few days to regroup and make a plan. The plan I should have been making all week, instead of wasting my time falling for Jake Sheppard.

Chapter Thirteen

I make it about a mile away before I break down. Not physically, though sure, I cried. No, my truck decides that after several years of faithful service, now is the time for it to stop working.