Page 54 of Hidden Nature
“Does my future sister-in-law have a name?”
“Drea.”
“Drea what?”
“I don’t know.” He sighed it out. “Doesn’t matter. She threw me off my game, just by existing. But I’ll do better next time. She’s the most beautiful woman in the world.”
“Okay. Well, now that you’re getting married and, I assume, starting a family—”
“Absolutely.”
“Then you should be happy to know we’ve got our permits. We’re starting demo.”
Theo rubbed his hands together. “Nothing like demo. Oh, wait, one more thing. The tree farm’s on the way to and from the supplier. We can stop either way and get the tree.”
“We have dozens of trees.”
“Christmas tree, Nash. We need a Christmas tree.”
“We’re about to tear the house up. Where the hell are we going to put a tree? When are we going to have time to screw with a Christmas tree?”
“Here’s my motto,” Theo told him. “You gotta make time to screw with Christmas.”
“If we made pillows, that belongs on one.”
“We’ll find a place. I already got lights and a stand, and a shitloadof decorations. Nothing like what they used to have decorators bring in and put up. Our tree, our way. Our Christmas.”
It had never been Nash’s favorite holiday. Always formal, stilted, perfection as fake as the soaring tree.
But he heard the yearning in his brother’s voice.
And why not? he thought. They could make it their own.
“Then here’s the plan. Doors, tree, unload back at the house. Then we’re tearing down a wall.”
Theo rubbed his hands together again. “I like this plan.”
They picked up the doors—good and solid—the doorknobs, the hardware. Nash took a turn through their lighting section, cruised the bathroom vanities, faucets.
In his judgment, somebody replaced a vanity, a sink, painted a bathroom, they’d decide to change the lights.
He let Theo talk up the manager, pass off flyers, business cards. His little brother had a knack for it.
Because he didn’t have a preference, he gave the choice of the tree to Theo as well. From what looked like acres of them, and plenty of people already in the holiday mood on the first week of December.
He tried to ignore the Christmas music playing on the outdoor speakers.
They strapped the tree—a nice six-foot blue spruce—to the top of the truck and headed for home.
“Damn good morning for the Littlefield brothers,” Theo declared.
“And a better afternoon when that wall comes down. I ordered the windows, and we’re going to need some help there when they come in. Maybe you could ask your bride-to-be if she knows anyone.”
“I’ll do that. Good opening. Now, about that dog.”
“Don’t push your luck, Theo.”
“Yeah, the dog should wait a few weeks anyway.”
