Christmas in Evergreen Tidings of Joy - Nancy Naigle Page 0,32

next to it was. The old barn looked almost a muddy pink in comparison now.

He pulled the truck in front of the old two-story shed that housed all the wreath-and-garland-making supplies and put the truck in park.

Henry waved as a family drove off with a tree tied to their roof.

Carol came from around the building, carrying a wooden crate of pine limbs toward the wreath shed.

Ben and Katie got out of the truck. The sun was shining, and even though everything was still covered in snow, it was warm enough that Katie didn’t even have to button up her coat.

Henry recognized the red truck immediately. “There you are.” He met them halfway, then waved them over. “Come on. Follow me. It’s that big tree in the back. I picked out a real winner for ya.”

Ben saw it, much taller than the others. “It’s perfect.”

“I knew you’d like it.” Henry motioned for the lot boys to bring it on over to the truck.

“Looks like you’ve got a good operation out here,” Katie said.

“Thanks. Customers are pretty faithful to us.” Henry nodded toward Ben. “You can just ask this guy. He worked here three winters when he was in high school.”

Ben snickered. “Everybody works here in high school.”

“My high school job involved a lot more filing. I’m sure yours was probably more fun.”

“It was a good place to work.” Ben watched three teens muscle the tree over to the red truck. He jogged over to help them put it into the bed so they didn’t scratch the sides.

Katie and Henry watched from nearby. “It smells amazing out here,” she said.

Ben shook his head. He knew what was coming next. Poor Katie. She had no idea what she’d just stepped right into.

“Terpenes,” Henry blurted out.

Ben laughed. He should’ve warned her.

Katie looked completely confused. Henry was always happy to share his knowledge about Christmas trees. Ben had heard this speech a million times over the years.

“Each year, someone asks me why Christmas trees smell so nice,” Henry went on. “So I went to the library, and guess what. Terpenes. The trees give off the scent to protect themselves from bugs, and some people believe the scent floats up and seeds the clouds and brings the snowfall.”

“Wait, is that true?” She turned to Ben for confirmation. “Trees helping the clouds rain and snow? He’s pulling my leg. Right?”

Henry interjected. “No. It’s true. It’s not just a nice smell. They call it cloud-seeding. Do a little of that journalist research. You’ll see.”

“I will. Thanks for the tip.” She pulled out her notebook and jotted it down. “Terpenes.”

Henry shrugged; clearly, he’d never been challenged on the trivia before. “I leave the science to scientists. They’re doing more tests, but all of it working in a circle like that. Just imagine. It’s amazing. I’ve got trees. I’ve got snow. Who am I to argue?”

“Wow. Christmas trees,” Katie said. “Who knew?”

“Henry knew.” Ben tried to hide his amusement.

“Hey, Ben, would you mind?” Henry raised a hand in the air. “I have a library book I need to return.”

“No problem. We’ll walk up with you.”

Just then, Katie’s phone rang. She looked at the screen. “I’ve got to take this. I’ll catch up.”

She laid her notebook down on the hood of the truck and answered the call, then walked toward the building, talking the whole way.

Ben couldn’t help but slow down to take a glance at what she’d written.

Down a snowy lane, you leave the road for a place that’s a hive of activity. On the side of the new barn, a cheerful red-and-green sign hangs above the sliding doors—the kind with the white X’s on them. Henry’s Christmas Tree Farm painted in fun red lettering with snowflakes that look to be hand-lettered on the sign, with a big Christmas tree and red-and-green presents underneath. From the trees and the mistletoe, to the wreath-making barn, not one thing is out of place. Rows and rows of trees line up like toy soldiers, ready to do their part for the holiday. There is a feeling of order, but more so of joy that hangs over the place in an inviting way.

Nice. Maybe she understood more than he gave her credit for.

Chapter Thirteen

Katie left the guys to take the phone call. She knew Mom was probably getting antsy about that article. She’d been hoping she could buy a little more time before talking to her, but she couldn’t ignore the call, either. “Hi, Mom.”

“How’s the article coming?”

“Pretty good, actually. I’m at a Christmas

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