Jonathan would only like real ones.
“I sure hope Jonathan loves Christmas as much as he says he does,” Emma remarked as the saleswoman checked us out. “Because this seems excessive.”
The shocked, hurt look on his face flitted before my eyes. I felt guilty. “He’ll like it,” I said firmly. I hope he does.
There was a Christmas tree sales lot in the parking lot outside the mall.
“Sorry,” the owner said in a thick Long Island accent. “We only have the huge trees left. We’ll get some smaller ones in tomorrow.” He pointed to three tall, bushy trees in the back of the lot.
“Actually, those are perfect,” I said. Jonathan’s condo had fifteen-foot ceilings. We needed a large tree.
“These are blue spruces,” the owner bragged, “from upstate. Not gonna get a better tree than this, let me tell ya! Should I bag it up?”
“Yes, please,” I said. I wanted to see Jonathan’s face when he saw the tree.
Not because I like him. It’s an apology.
“Do you deliver?” Emma asked the salesman.
“I certainly do not,” he said as he ran Jonathan’s credit card. “You ladies have a good evening.”
The Uber driver we ordered laughed at us when we asked him if we could stash the twelve-foot tree on his car roof. He was still laughing as he drove off.
“It’s freezing!” Lilith chattered, jumping up and down. “How are we going to transport the tree back?”
“Train,” I said grimly. “That’s the New York way. I saw a guy moving his whole saltwater aquarium on the subway one day.” I checked my phone. “The nearest stop is half a mile away.”
“Crap.”
“Don’t worry!” Emma said cheerfully. “I’m from the Midwest. Midwestern women are made for handling cattle, birthing babies, and carrying heavy loads.”
She picked up one of the plastic straps holding the tree together. “Ladies, let’s march!”
“I’m covered in pine sap,” I huffed as we hauled the tree down the sidewalk. Fortunately, the high-end department store did deliver, or we would have been in bad shape.
“Are we almost there?” I wheezed. I was not made for exercise. I was made for reclining in a moody salon.
“We’ve only walked a block,” Emma said. “Buck up! You ate a sausage pretzel roll earlier!”
“Yes, but then I had to shop for Christmas decorations. All the scented candles made me light-headed,” I complained.
“We should sing while we walk,” Emma said cheerfully. “Jingle bells! Jingle bells…”
Salem yodeled along to her off-key singing.
“Hello!” a woman in an oversized wool coat called, hustling up to us. “Is that a cat? I love cats. Would you like another one?”
“Uh, what?”
“Another cat,” the woman repeated, holding up a cat carrier.
“We just had a Christmas pet adoption at the cat rescue. But no one wanted to adopt this beautiful baby. Her name is Cindy Lou Who. Her former owner was a very rich high-society lady who, unfortunately, passed away, and her kids wouldn’t keep Cindy Lou, poor thing. She’s grown accustomed to a certain level of luxury, and I’ve been trying to find the perfect owner.”
“Ma’am,” I said firmly, “we are walking our Christmas tree to the train station. I don’t think Cindy Lou will be very happy with us.”
“Nonsense. That’s a twelve-foot-tall blue spruce, a very fancy tree! I’d bet even if you don’t have money, you are very close to someone who does.”
“We cannot take that cat. I am very sorry.”
“Merry Christmas,” she said, placing the strap of the cat carrier around my neck. I had my hands full of sticky Christmas tree and couldn’t disentangle the cat carrier before the woman danced away, singing, “We wish you a merry Christmas!”
Cindy Lou Who hissed at me from the cat carrier.
“Maybe Jonathan wants a cat?” Lilith asked after a stunned moment of silence.
26
Jonathan
There were not any breakfast leftovers. Chloe, Jack’s girlfriend, had cooked for Jack, Matt, Oliver, and me. However, my brothers had vacuumed up all the food.
“This isn’t a hotel,” Jack told me when I pointed this fact out.
“I wasn’t complaining,” I retorted, “I was just making a comment that I did not get enough to eat.”
“Oh no!” Chloe cried. “I don’t want people to starve!”
“He’s fine,” my brother insisted, trying to block Chloe from the stove. “Jonathan has ten thousand bake-off dessert calories to eat later today. He shouldn’t have a big breakfast.”
My stomach rumbled as I hiked to the studio.
“Where are your pajamas?” Belle asked when she saw me.
“I’m not walking around in pajamas,” I informed my sister.
“It’s a PJ party. It’s going to look weird if you’re wearing a suit and