Jace loved quiet mornings on the farm. Other times of year, when it was the apple or pecan groves that were their bread and butter, mornings meant work. But when it came time for Christmas, the Fraser Firs and Scotch Pines were far less demanding. After four, they’d have steady traffic the rest of the night as the last minute folks came in search of a tree. But for now, it was just him and the trees. Livia had already gone in to work at the library where she ran the children’s program. Dad had headed to the Co-op to pick up a part for the tractor, and Mom was puttering around in the kitchen, baking up cookies for the legion of people she gifted them to for the holidays.
He was working on his second cup of coffee when the little SUV came up the drive. They weren’t officially open until thi
