Page 43 of Deck the Hauls

“I’ll do my best to hum them under my breath,” Emily said as she stepped down the ladder and grabbed a gold star from the ground. “When we decorate my parents’ house for Christmas, we always have Christmas music blasting and sing along, so I’m afraid it’s just second nature to me.”

We used to do that too. Decorate the tree as a family, Bing Crosby crooning over the speakers. Bowie curled on the couch, snoozing. My chest constricted. I should call Mom after this.

I glanced over at Roz and Ronnie, the farm hand, who were unloading trestle tables from a van. I would have been much better suited to that type of manual labor, but now I was glad Roz had put me on decorating duties. If she hadn’t, Emily wouldn’t be here right now.

All week, I’d been looking forward to seeing her again. I had seen her in the distance while she was filming, hoping it wasn’t too obvious that I slowed down my truck as I passed, but that was no substitute for spending time with her. It had been years since I’d felt this interested in someone, and it was both slightly alarming and exciting, even though I knew nothing would happen. It was less than a week until Emily would go back to New York, so all I could do was enjoy spending time with her while she was here and hope I wouldn’t feel too devastated when she left.

I stood and grabbed a larger light-up reindeer from the ground, standing it up next to the baby one.

Olivia materialized next to me. “You know what I think we need? Some Christmas music! I’ll bring out our speakers.”

Emily glanced down from the top of the ladder, positioning the star on the fir. “I take it she doesn’t know about your feelings toward Christmas?” she asked as Olivia bounced back to the farmhouse to get the speakers.

“No. I haven’t had the heart to tell her.”

I’d just finished securing the light-up reindeer family into the ground when a thump sounded behind me, followed by a groan.

I turned to find Emily lying face-down on top of a large blow-up gingerbread man, slightly taller than her and significantly more round, muttering.

“Are you okay?” I asked, trying not to laugh.

“This damn gingerbread man keeps threatening to fly away in the breeze,” Emily said as she slid off the gingerbread man, her hair falling around her face. “I just had to tackle him to stop him from sailing off to the cow pastures.”

Grinning, I rested my hand on the gingerbread man to ensure he didn’t escape. “Why don’t I hold him and you can hammer in the pegs.”

Once the gingerbread man was firmly attached to the ground, we strung twinkle lights around the barn’s entrance. It was nice chatting with Emily and working together, despite the Christmas pop music Olivia was now blasting over the speakers.

During a pause between songs, I noticed a woman in blue jeans and a black coat talking to Roz and scribbling something in a notepad. Who was that? I knew most of the locals around here, but I didn’t recognize her.

“Hey, Dana, would you mind holding this for me while I secure the string?” Emily asked, handing me the other end of the twinkle lights.

We were just putting the finishing touches on the lights when the note-taking woman approached us.

“Hi, I’m Ashley from The Hudson Valley Star. Can I ask you a few questions?”

Emily froze, blood draining from her face. “Questions about what?”

How strange. Surely being in the film industry she’d be comfortable speaking to the media?

“Oh sorry, I should’ve started with that,” Ashley said, holding out her hand. “I’m writing an article about Red Tractor Farm, focusing on the Christmas market and the HolLove movie that’s filming here.” She turned to me. “Roz said you were the head Christmas tree farmer, so I thought it could be fun to get some facts and figures from you about Christmas trees or anything else you think our readers might be interested in.”

Emily’s shoulders relaxed, and she kneeled down to open a box of decorations for another fir Ronnie and Roz had just positioned next to the entrance to the barn.

Ashley held her pen to her notepad, staring at me, so I rattled off some facts. “We primarily grow Fraser firs at Red Tractor Farm, which are known for their dense, symmetrical shape and excellent needle retention. They’re endangered in the wild, but Christmas tree farms like ours ensure they are widely cultivated. In the wild, they can live over 150 years, but we typically harvest them after seven to ten years.” I cleared my throat, hoping that was okay.

Ashley scribbled some notes. “Wonderful. And what kinds of challenges do you face growing them?”

“Well, funny you should ask.” I flashed a grin at Emily.

“Oh?” Ashley raised her brow.

“A mysterious animal has been eating the bark off some of the trees, so we’re currently on a mission to capture and relocate it. So far, it’s not going too well. In addition to wildlife, insects, disease and climate stress can all cause damage. But I’m pleased to report that, apart from the few trees that have been nibbled, the rest are all in excellent condition.”

“Fascinating,” Ashley said, then turned to Emily, who was untangling some tinsel. “Do you work here too?”

“Only temporarily.” Emily smiled. “I’m actually working on the HolLove movie.”

The journalist squinted at Emily as if she was seeing her for the first time. “Oh! Are you Emily Rossi? If so, would you mind answering a few questions?”