“Which ones do you like?”
“How about this one?” he asked, stopping by a fir that was tall and green, had a classic Christmas-tree shape and was full enough that he couldn’t see the base.
“It’s a Douglas.”
Was that a good thing?
“Douglases don’t live as long as Frasers or Nobles. Their branches start to droop almost immediately, and they lose their needles the quickest.” She frowned, considering the tree. “They are the cheapest, though, and the most beautiful.”
“But if they don’t last, what does beauty matter?”
Phyllis’s eyes were serious as she looked up at him. “It’s only six days until Christmas. I’m sure it’ll last that long.”
Still, she continued walking, checking out—or so it seemed to Matt—every single tree on the lot.
“Do you think I should get a Noble?” Phyllis asked, stopping by one of the sorrier trees he’d seen. “The branches are sparser, but the needles are soft and Nobles live the longest.”
“But if you can’t stand the sight of it…”
Phyllis gave him a startled look over her shoulder and then grinned. “I guess you’re right. They’re the most expensive, anyway.”
A couple of kids pushed by them, running to show their parents the tree they’d picked out. “This one!” they were hollering. They seemed to be having a great time.
Watching those kids, Matt couldn’t relate. Couldn’t relate to how it felt to be a kid picking out a tree, anticipating the packages that would soon lie underneath it.
“What about the Frasers you were talking about?” Matt asked Phyllis in an effort to move her along.
They found several Frasers that were over seven feet tall, just what she wanted. And still the job wasn’t done. Phyllis walked around each tree, examining it carefully. You’d think she was buying a piece of furniture that was going to last her until the next century, not a tree she’d be throwing out in a little more than a week.
“I like the shape of this one best,” she said slowly, circling a tree. “But it’s got this bald spot.”
Matt went to see. She was right.
“And this one looks good all the way around, but the needles are already brown on the base and on the ends of those branches.”
Didn’t sound good.
“What do you think?” She turned toward him, acting as though the tree meant something to him, too.
It didn’t. Not any more than those babies she was carrying.
Babies. Two of them. For a moment there, he’d actually forgotten. How in hell could he walk away and leave her to fend for herself with two babies?
“I think it’s a toss-up,” he told her when he realized she was waiting for him to answer.
“Why don’t you get one and I’ll get the other?”
“I’m not getting one.”
Phyllis left the tree, walking back to him, a puzzled expression on her face. Her nose was turning red from the chill in the air. She looked young and cute and far too beautiful.
“You already got yours?” she asked. “I’m sorry to have to drag you out a second time. I thought you had to come, anyway.”
“I don’t have one.” Fingers in the pockets of his jeans, Matt hunched his shoulders against the chill, facing the two trees. “I’m not getting one,” he said again.
And she’d better get hers quickly. He’d been there long enough.
“Why not?”