Megan Darling loaded up the last of the evergreen boughs onto the trailer behind the tractor then wiped the sticky sap from her hands onto her flannel shirt. It was a good thing she never minded smelling like a pine tree.

​

After the surprise mid-November Nor'easter last week, she had spent the last two days going around Darling’s Christmas Tree Farm picking up the broken branches from the trees that got knocked around in the high wind. Even though they’d lost power for a day, most of the trees on the farm weathered the storm fine. In two days, it would be Thanksgiving, which meant the day after, the busiest season for their business would start.

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Meg whistled for Brody. The Australian Shepherd came out from behind a blue spruce and bounded toward her, his tongue hanging out of mouth. He stopped in front of her and she got on her knees to rub his ears. "Chasing squirrels again?"

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Brody licked her nose.

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"Come on, buddy. Let's get back, it’s getting dark."

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He hopped into the trailer, and she slid behind the steering wheel. Daylight savings time was gone, and it began to get dark around 4:30. Meg hated these shorter days but took solace in the fact that when the winter solstice arrived next month, the days would begin to get longer again. 

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She drove the tractor down toward the Christmas shop to drop off the boughs that she and Gran would use to make holiday wreaths and centerpieces. They had remodeled the barn into The Christmas Loft, the shop where they sold those handmade items, along with a complete inventory of everything from ornaments to Christmas tree lights. 

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Meg slowed the tractor as she came around the barn to see headlights of a car coming down the winding driveway. It had been plowed after the storm, but during the day the snow melted and when the sun went down it froze again. The driver hit the brakes. The car drifted sideways then careened into the snowbank in front of the Christmas Loft. 

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Meg winced. "Oof, that's gonna leave a mark."

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She jumped down from the tractor, but Brody had already run ahead. Meg picked up her own pace, too.

The man got out of the car and promptly landed on his backside. He tried to get up and slipped again. As he attempted to stand once more Meg reached him then stuck her hand out to help him up.

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"You're not from around here, are you?" she asked.

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He wiped the snow from his flimsy jacket before he answered.  "No, I'm from California. I was asked to come here on behalf of my uncle, Jerome Graham."

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"Jerome Graham?" Meg shuddered as she repeated the name.

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"Yes, do you know him?"

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Everyone in their small town of Chelsea knew of his uncle but no one knew Jerome Graham. He'd been a recluse since before Meg entered this world, according to her grandmother. And Meg bet no one even knew he had a nephew. A very handsome nephew, at that.

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"I only know he lives in the mansion on the hill with the iron clad gates at the bottom of the driveway."

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He drew his eyebrows together in a very serious expression. "Well, my uncle is convinced this will be his last Christmas, and he wants to throw a Christmas ball for the entire town. He'd like to purchase a few of your Christmas trees and hire you to decorate them. Well, the trees along with the rest of the house.” 

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Meg stared into his dark brown eyes as she let what he just said sink in. Was he talking two trees? And what did he mean when he said, 'decorate them with the rest of the house.' That place was enormous. 

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"I'm sorry to hear about your uncle. I'm Meg, by the way."

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He reached into his jacket pocket and handed her a card.  It read, Dixon Graham, Vice President, Graham Real Estate. It mentioned a California address. 

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"It's nice to meet you Meg. Anyway, my uncle's doctor has assured us that he isn't dying. Physically he's fine, but he did diagnose him with depression. The doctor suggested perhaps doing something to help others would make him feel better about himself, so Jerome decided to start a charity in his name. To get the word out to the community, he wishes to hold a Christmas ball at his mansion."

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Meg couldn’t believe it.

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"Will you do it?" Dixon hunched his shoulders and dug his hands deeper into his pockets.

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"It's a lot of work. What other details can you give me?"

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"I'm not sure I know exactly what Jerome wants. Would it be possible to come up to the mansion tomorrow morning to meet with him?"

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A hundred thoughts ran through Meg's mind, but she wouldn't refuse him. She'd always been dying to see the inside of the mansion that sat on the hill and overlooked all of Chelsea.  "Absolutely." 

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"Great. Now that that's settled, I'll call a tow truck to get my car out of that snowbank," he said, pulling out his cell. 

As Dixon scrolled through his phone, Meg walked to the front of the car then got down on her knees to look under it. The tires weren't buried that deep in the snow. 

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"I should be able to get it out for you."

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Dix took his eyes away from the screen to glance at her. "I'll just call a tow company. I'm sure there's one near here, right?"

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Meg raised an eyebrow. "Are you doubting my epic snow-driving skills?"  She wouldn't give him a chance to respond. She slid into the driver's seat. 

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"This really isn't necessary," he said.

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"You might want to go stand over there," Meg pointed to the side of the barn. He raised his hands in surrender and stood where she told him. She put the car in reverse. The tires spun a bit but when the car didn't move at all, so she threw it into drive, then into reverse, and back into drive. The car rocked back and forth a few times until she was able to back it up away from the snowbank.

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She got out of the car, smiling. "You're welcome," she said. 

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"I think you just got lucky," he said.

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"Luck had nothing to do with. That was all skill, my friend."

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He finally gave her a grin. "Well, thank you. How's nine tomorrow morning?"

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"I'll be there."

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He gave her a curt nod, got inside the car, and drove out of the driveway.

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Meg shook her head. From the sound of it, Dixon was the only family Jerome had.  A foreign idea to Meg because she had a large extended family. Her grandparents owned and operated Darling's Tree Farm since the 50's. When her parents died in a boating accident, Meg had just turned six and her grandparents were in their 60's but they raised her. Now that they were getting on in years, Meg had taken over the running of the farm. It was the least she could do for everything they'd done for her.

​

She opened the back door of their old farmhouse and her stomach growled. A pot of beef stew simmered on the stove. Smelling Gran's homemade biscuits warmed her to her toes, especially after standing in the cold talking to Dixon Graham.

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Her grandfather hobbled in on his cane. "Who was that, Meg?"

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She helped Pops over to his chair at the head of the table, and he shooed her away. "I had a stroke. I'm not an invalid."

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"You were lucky to have such a mild stroke, and I don't mind helping you."

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He settled into the chair on his own. "Who was the guy in the Mercedes?"

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"His name is Dixon Graham."

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Her grandmother bobbled the pan of biscuits she'd just taken from the oven. Megan raced to help her. "What happened, Gran?"

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"The darn potholder slipped."

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Gran began ladling the steaming stew into a soup tureen, and Meg put the biscuits in a bowl and carried them to the table. As soon as they were all seated and started to eat, Meg said, "I guess Jerome Graham is throwing a Christmas ball because he thinks he's dying."

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Pops harrumphed something unintelligible while Gran kept her eyes on her stew. 

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"So, what's the deal with Jerome Graham?" Meg asked.

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Pops grabbed his second biscuit and spread it with butter. "You mean other than Jerry being the loser in our love triangle?"

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"Heathcliff!"

 

"I won't lie to the girl, Evie. Besides, if Jerry is having a shindig at that mansion of his, it's bound to come out."

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"Whoa, wait. The three of you were in a love triangle, and you chose Pops?"

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"That's right, Meg," Pops gloated. "And Jerry never got over it."

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Gran just shoveled spoonful after spoonful of stew into her mouth without saying a word to confirm or deny Pops' story. They ate the rest of their meal in awkward silence, the only sound coming from their spoons clinking on the china bowls. 

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"What did this Dixon want with you?" Pops asked, as Gran began to clear the table.

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"Jerome wants me to decorate the whole mansion for the ball he's giving." 

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"I'm sure he needs all the help he can get."

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"Cliff, that's enough.”

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Megan startled at the tone of Gran's voice. Her sainted grandmother never raised her voice, but all this talk about the town recluse got her ire up. Pops mumbled under his breath and hobbled back into the living room, leaving Megan alone with Gran, who kept her attention on loading the dishwasher.

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"So?" Megan asked. "Are you going to fill me in?"

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Her grandmother straightened and huffed out a breath. "I don't suppose you'll stop pestering me until I do."

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Meg scrubbed the soup pot in the sink. "Not a chance. I've lived in this small town my whole life. If even part of what Pops said is true, I need you to spill it. Just let me rinse this so I don't miss a word."

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They finished cleaning up from dinner and Gran brought over the cake she'd made earlier. As she started to frost it, she inhaled a deep breath.  "Your grandfather and I went to high school together. In our senior year, Jerome's family moved into town. He was handsome, and it was obvious his family had more money than anyone else in town. All the girls wanted Jerome to ask them to the homecoming dance."

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"Wait, don't tell me. He asked you."

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A huge smile lit up Gran's face. "He did."

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Megan was sure she'd never seen Gran blush. "I'm guessing the other girls were jealous," Meg said.

 

"They were. After the dance, he asked me to go steady. Back then, going steady meant he held my hand, and we went to the drug store for root beer floats. Nobody hopped into bed with each other the day after they met the way you kids do nowadays."

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Megan laughed. She'd never hopped into bed after just meeting anyone, but whatever. "So why did you break up with him?"

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"I didn't. The Korean War happened. Jerome got drafted. The night before he had to leave, he took me to the beach and asked me to marry him. I said yes."

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"That sounds so romantic."

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"It was. The girls in town tried to say I was after his money, but I ignored them. I only wanted was what my parents had—a loving marriage. Jerome wanted that too."

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Megan watched as Gran stuck the spatula in the ceramic bowl, dug out a glob of frosting, and spread it up the side of the cake.  "Where does Pops fit into the picture?"

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"Heathcliff was his parent's only son. His father had just passed, and his mother needed him here to run the farm, so he never left. Betrothed to Jerome, I waited for the war to end so we could start our life together, until his family got a letter saying that he got killed in action."

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Meg's heart dropped. "But—"

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"Yes, the government made a mistake. There was more than one Jerome Graham and they sent the letter to the wrong family."

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Gran left the table and filled the kettle for tea. Megan grappled with what her grandmother had just told her. 

A few minutes later Gran returned, carrying two steaming mugs. Meg stuck her nose in the steam to smell the sweet Chamomile then glanced back up at her. "I don't understand. If he was alive why are you married to Pops?"

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"It took the government several months to realize their mistake. By then my world had ended. I was heartbroken and became depressed. My father hired Heathcliff to help him with odd jobs around the house. At least that's what he told me. I think he hated watching me grieve and hoped Heathcliff would be a distraction."

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Megan reached across the table and squeezed Gran's hand. "It worked, right? You married him."

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"We courted for a little while and he asked me to marry him. Part of me still believed Jerome was still alive, but my mother convinced me that war changed a man and even if Jerome hadn't died, he'd be different. I married Heathcliff a few months later. Soon after that Jerome came back home."

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Meg's chest tightened imagining how Gran felt when she saw Jerome for the first time after she married another man. The heartache they both endured must have been crushing.   "But you loved Pops, right?"

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Gran sipped her tea and didn't answer right away. "Love isn't always so black and white, Meg. I battled my own civil war between my heart and head."

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"I don't understand."

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"The heart wants what the heart wants, right? Obviously, I married Heathcliff," Gran continued. "But when Jerome turned up amongst the living, it threw me. I struggled with my decision and well, Jerome was miserable."

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Meg tried to put herself in her grandmother's shoes. "Your heart must've been torn in two. How did you manage it?"

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"I didn't have to. Your grandfather did the most noble thing. He offered to divorce me so Jerome and I could be together."

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Her grandfather had always been a very proud and honest man. He had always prided himself on using sound logic and reason to solve any problem. But offering to divorce Gran to be with someone else, went above and beyond anything a man should have to do.  Tears pricked her eyes, thinking about the sad situation they'd all been put in.

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"That's so romantic."

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"Romance had nothing to do with it,” Pops said, making his way back into the kitchen. "I didn't want to live my life with a woman who regretted marrying me and would spend her life pining for another man."  He sat in his chair and Gran cut him a piece of cake. 

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"But you loved Gran, right?"

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"With every ounce of my being. But love isn't any good if it's one-sided."

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"He's right, Meg. When we're talking hearts, it takes two halves to make a whole."

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Meg understood that better than anyone. It had been a year since Josh left her at the altar leaving a giant crater in her own heart.

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Gran cut two more pieces of cake. She gave Meg one then sat down next to Pops with her own. Pops winked up at Gran and she smiled, patting his hand. That little show of affection between them caused emotion to bubble up inside her. She swallowed against the tightness in her throat and fought back tears. Meg hated that she might never have that. 

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"What a great story," she finally said.

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"Oh, Meg," Gran said, hearing her hoarse voice from the emotion stuck in her larynx. "You will find someone who loves you the way you deserved to be loved."

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Meg nodded. Gran meant well, but Meg wouldn't grant anyone access to her heart for a long time, if ever.

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"So, the mansion belonged to Jerome's family?" Meg asked, changing the subject.

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"No, Jerome demolished his family's house to build that mansion," Pops said. "The family home was a normal looking house near the road. Jerome built the mansion on the hill for Evie's sake."

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Meg licked the frosting off her fork. "Why?"

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"So, every time she looked up at his fine-looking house, she'd regret marrying me."  

 

Gran sat back in the chair.  "But I never have. My mother was right. Jerome changed. Whether it was the effects of war or the fact that I married your grandfather, he became bitter. It was unfortunate what had happened to us, but God had another plan, I guess."

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Her grandparents went back to eating their cake and sipping their drinks. 

​

Jerome Graham stayed single because of the gaping hole in his heart left by Gran. And while it wasn't Gran's fault, the circumstances sucked. Meg had never met the recluse that lived on the hill, but at least she understood why he chose to live like that. Her heart still ached from Josh leaving her while she waited in the back of the packed church on that humid August day. Time lessened the pain, but she had to wonder if it would ever completely go away.  "I'm glad the two of you got together, otherwise, I wouldn't be here. But Jerome never finding love again? That's like a Shakespeare tragedy."

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"Life is all about choices, Meg. As Evie said, he was miserable, and he's got no one to blame but himself."  Pops finished his cake then headed back into the living room.

 

Megan took her plate to the sink and leaned up against the counter to finish her tea.  "Well, I hope Mr. Graham isn't a crotchety old man when I meet with him. Why don't you come with me and be my buffer?"

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"Oh God, no," Gran gave a dismissive wave. "We have nothing to say to each other. I wouldn't be much of a buffer."

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Meg wouldn't force the issue. It would be awkward for all of them.  She kissed Gran's cheek. "If he does ask about you, can I tell him you send your best?" 

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"You can, but he won't."

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Meg would just have to wait and see on that.