“Yes,” she said, and a look of genuine excitement lit up her face. “Let’s go.”
Josh climbed from the truck and met her in front of the pickup. This time, he offered his arm, and she slipped hers through. “About how tall were you thinking?” he asked as he led her toward the giant snowman sign he’d helped his dad make a few years ago.
“Well,” Delaney said, looking up at the sky and creasing her eyes as if she were deep in thought, “Nana’s living room ceiling is about nine feet tall, I think. So probably something around six or seven feet. She likes them really full, she said, which is sort of surprising since the fake tree she’s been putting up for as long as I can remember isn’t full at all.”
“Fake tree?” he asked, looking at her with a scrutinizing glare. “Your Nana’s a Fakey?”
Delaney
