Chapter 5
1183 Words
For the first time, Charlotte understood exactly how useful her doctorate in psychiatry was. The book club ladies were anything but harmless.
“I truly miss Braden.” Marguerite Browne complained as she looked Charlotte up and down. “Such a sweet, polite young man.”
I’ll show you sweet. With a side dish of polite.
I’ll show you sweet. With a side dish of polite.“He sounds like a nice person.” Charlotte’s smile didn’t waver.
“What bookshops have you worked in before here? What qualifications do you hold?”
“Marguerite, don’t worry about the new help, come and see the book I told you about.” That was Mrs Octavia Morris, who Rosie had introduced as Octavia and was quickly corrected to Mrs Morris. Rosie simply nodded and smiled.
Only Glenys Lane showed any manners, but they’d already met when Charlotte visited with Trev. Mistaking Charlotte for Rosie’s assistant, she’d purchased a stack of books on Charlotte’s recommendation. Rosie had been amused, particularly as Glenys usually browsed in the bookshop then borrowed from the library.
The three women huddled around a new release in the reading area.
“Right, how are you at decorating Christmas trees?” Back at the counter, Rosie kept an eye on the ladies. “I want to replace the artificial tree in the window with a real one.”
“As in, a cut tree?”
“Potted. That way we can plant it once Christmas is over.”
“Oh, I love that idea! And to answer, I’ve never decorated one.”
Rosie’s eyes widened. “Never?”
“But, I’m a fast learner. If you don’t mind me needing some direction.”
“It will be my pleasure. Our tree will arrive soon, so would you remove the decorations from the one in the window? There’s a box in the storeroom.”
As Charlotte removed each decoration, she tried to memorise its place on the tree. The ornaments were beautiful, gold and red in two sizes. So simple but effective. The tree was empty by the time a small flatbed truck pulled up outside. In red letters across the side were the words ‘Christmas Tree Farm’ and a phone number.
“That’s young Darcy getting out. His family started the farm more than fifty years ago and he took over a few months back.”
Darcy was in his late twenties, thickset and smiling as he wandered in. Freckles covered his face beneath short red hair. “Morning, Rosie.”
“Hello, Darcy. Darcy, this is Charlotte Dean, who has come to work with me. Charlie, please meet Darcy Forest.”
They shook hands as Darcy grinned. “And it is fine to point out I own a tree farm with the surname of Forest. Everyone does.”
“Didn’t occur to me.” Charlotte lied.
“Darcy, would you help Charlie remove the artificial tree from the window?”
“Sure. Actually, tell me where it goes, and I’ll do it and set up the other one. Looks like you’re needed.” He nodded toward Marguerite, who had stood and was waving.
For an instant, Charlotte considered simply waving back. She hoped these so-called ladies treated Rosie with more respect than they were showing today. She hurried over.
“Mrs Browne, how may I help?”
Marguerite looked put out. “I’d expected Rosie to help us.”
“She asked me to look after you.”
Smile.
Smile.“But you probably don’t know.”
“Charlotte was most helpful when we first met.” Glenys said. “She put me onto…” her voice lowered to a loud whisper, “Misti McCann’s books. You know!”
The other two women reddened. Charlotte remembered suggesting a rather steamy mystery novel to Glenys and warning her to read the blurb first. From the look of things, she’d shared it around.
“Very well, what do you know about the author of this new release? We are considering this for our book of the month in January.”
For a few minutes, Charlotte answered questions and made suggestions. Darcy emerged from the window with a large box, presumably holding the disassembled tree. Hiking it onto a shoulder, he headed for the storeroom. As he passed, his smile disappeared as he saw Octavia, who glared at him.
What’s that about?
What’s that about?Charlotte excused herself as soon as she could and joined Rosie at the counter as Darcy returned. She watched closely and again, there was that glare, and pursed lips, from the woman. Rosie tapped her arm and shook her head slightly.
“Thanks, Darcy. Will your tree fit in the same spot?” Rosie wheeled around the counter. “We can make a bit more space.”
“Nope, think that’ll be perfect. Two secs and I’ll have it in.”
His smile was back as he went out to his truck.
“Charlie, give him a hand and I’ll keep the book club ladies busy.”
Darcy was in the truck, removing a pottery plate from a box. “Oh, I’m fine if you need to do stuff.”
“Happy to help. Is this to go down first? Anything else under it?”
“It is a bit heavy, if you’re sure? And I’ve already put a rubber mat down so this goes on top.”
Plate on the rubber mat, Charlotte stepped back as Darcy carried a dark green pine tree in as though it weighed nothing. He placed it down with surprising gentleness, ensuring the pot didn’t damage the plate. Then, he fanned the branches until it was full. “Being in the window, it’ll need regular watering, but watch it doesn’t overflow.”
They left the window. The book club ladies were at the door, still chatting amongst themselves. Rosie was behind the counter and Darcy stopped for a moment. “Let me know after Christmas what day suits and I’ll move it for you.”
“Thank you, Darcy. It is a lovely tree.” The corners of Rosie’s mouth lifted.
“Shouldn’t be using real trees, if you ask me. What about our environment?” Octavia had her hands on her hips, scowling at Darcy.
He slipped past the ladies and back to his truck without a word.
“For many years, my husband and I bought a potted pine, and every year it was donated after Christmas to where it was most needed. I’m doing this again because the farm needs our support, and it seems quite environmentally friendly. To me.” Rose spoke with a calm tone, but her fingers tapped the sides of the wheelchair.
“But most of the trees from that…that place, are cut down, so you tell me how that is a good thing?” With that, Octavia flounced out, the others trailing behind.
Charlotte didn’t know what to make of it all. River’s End had its share of quirky people, but this little town might just outdo it for odd people with strange ideas.
- Writer
