The Tree Keeper's Promise Part 25

"I'm telling you, Mark, I'm on your side. I hate to see someone as hardworking as you lose this place to the Department of Transportation. What do you say we sit down this week and work out the details? I have a respectable deal to offer you."

He and Ashley moved closer to the cash register.

Respectable? Did he just say that?

Mark uncrossed his arms and pointed nonchalantly to the plaque. "Take a look, John. Actually, take one long, last look. We're on the list. The list. This plaque means that Ma.s.sDOT will revise their plans. And so long as I'm alive, it means no one else will own this farm. It will be here for a very, very long time." He remained leaning with his side against the wall and crossed his arms back over his chest.

"How did you pull it off? That's amazing. I know people who've waited years and were denied." John turned on his heel and surveyed the room. He looked at Mark one last time. "This one got away from me, but I gotta say I'm glad to see it in your hands. I have a lot of respect for you, Mark. You're a rare breed. I don't know-it's like you have some kind of connection to these trees," he said. He turned to Ashley. "I've got a client at four thirty. We better go," he said and they prepared to leave.

Mark watched him, allowing a sense of satisfaction to settle over him. He could be rid of John Jackson. But before he reached the door, Mark had a thought. He could let him leave and be done with him for good. Or ...

"Hey, John," he said casually. John turned around. "If you're ever in town and need a tree, you know where to come."

Chapter 23.

Angela set the phone down and scanned the living room, not looking at anything directly. Caroline was in Donna's barn, and she was planning to go over and help there soon. But this call from her mother was unexpected.

Though Angela knew the flight had arrived earlier that morning, she also knew her mother would be spending the next several days recuperating from jet lag.

To hear that she was on her way to the farm and that she had something very important that couldn't wait left Angela with a fair amount of dread.

"How important?" Angela had asked.

"What kind of a question is that? I'm so tired. I can't explain it all to you, but it's very, very important."

"Can it wait until you've slept for a day or two? I don't mind. It's been a long day, and I know how you feel about driving all the way to Sutton on a regular day, never mind the same day you've crossed the Atlantic," Angela said with growing concern over what kind of gift she could have possibly brought home.

"It cannot wait," Cathy said with that characteristic tone that left no room for argument.

Angela waited for an explanation. A hint. Something. What could it be?

"So it's perishable?" Angela asked.

"You could say that," Cathy said.

"Like the cereus of gifts? Blooms one night a year and if I miss it it's over?"

"Close, but not quite," Cathy said. "I'm not giving you any more information. Only that I'll be at the farm by three and trust that you'll be there, and Caroline."

"And Mark. I'm guessing you don't want him to miss this?"

"Most definitely Mark."

Right.

As Angela replayed the conversation, she scrutinized her mother's voice, intonation-anything that would give it away. And she still had no clue.

She found Mark on the sales lot and repeated it all to him, exasperated.

"I know it's one of the busiest days of the year for you. If there were anything I could do to put her off, I would. I think she might be bringing me a new truck, but I'm sure she didn't buy that in Europe. And it's not exactly perishable."

"You don't need to put her off," Mark said. "I have an idea of what she's bringing you."

"You do? What?"

"Think about it. She's bringing it to the farm," Mark said.

"So."

"It has to be a tree, probably one from France or Germany. Where else did she go?"

"A tree? We have enough of those. And it's December. How would we plant it?"

"We can keep it in the greenhouse until spring. Remember, she's doing this for you, maybe for us. No matter what it is, let's just go with it."

He's right, she thought. He's always right about her.

"Go with it, huh?" she muttered.

"Okay?" Mark pressed.

"Fine," Angela answered.

Angela and Caroline walked from the barn to the farmhouse, bracing themselves against the bl.u.s.tery weather. While the latest storm had not lived up to snowfall predictions, it made up for it with wind and cold temperatures. This did not keep Caroline from bubbling over with excitement to see her grandmother. Angela wasn't sure she wanted to tell her that Grandma Cathy was coming with a gift. Especially without knowing it's nature.

Unless Mark was right, as he usually was.

"Grandma may have a surprise for us."

"Of course she will," Caroline stated.

"How do you know that?"

"It's her way," Caroline said. "Most of the time you don't know what she thinks of you, but then bam!-she gives you something you love and you wonder how she even does it."

Out of the mouths of babes.

"Maybe she went and got you a ring," Caroline said.

"She better not have." Angela's stomach churned at the thought. That would not go over well with Mark, or her, for that matter. "Mark thinks it's a tree, probably a very special one. So let's be excited about it, whatever it is."

The door opened and in walked a tired-looking Cathy. Beside her walked a woman, short in stature, her dark hair pulled to a bun at the back of her neck with gray strands at the edges of her temples. She wore a long winter coat and red leather boots. When she saw Angela-the woman's eyes widened, a smile broke out, and her little legs flew toward her.

"My Angela! Meu cordeirinho," she said in the same accented voice Angela remembered.

"Florinda?" Angela's voice cracked.

As they embraced, Angela looked for her mother. Cathy was watching this unfold with glossy eyes. Angela shook her head in utter disbelief.

"You're not a tree," Caroline said. Only Mark and Angela laughed. Everyone else looked on.

"This must be your daughter?" Florinda said. "She has your likeness when you were a girl."

"And this is Mark, my mom's fiance," Caroline said.

"How very nice to meet you, Mark. May I?" Florinda gestured toward a chair by the fireplace before sitting. "It is this reason I come now." Her face shone with a bright smile, though it did show some travel weariness.

"For the holiday?" Angela asked.

"No, I must return to Portugal before Christmas."

"I don't understand."

"I come for you and for your Mark." She reached for Angela's hands. "Your mother say you are getting married. Yes, yes? I come for your wedding. Then I can go back."

Mark heard the words. He was sure he had heard them. "I come for your wedding." It may have been broken English, but the woman had clearly said, "Your mother say you are getting married."

This should be interesting.

He hadn't taken his eyes off Angela. He'd watched her surprised expression change to pure joy and then to shock, and possibly fright. Now she was glaring at Cathy, who was almost sobbing. Almost, because that woman had as much composure as the Queen's guard. The thing was, Mark couldn't tell if she was happy to see Angela and Florinda reunited-or if she knew those were flames coming out of Angela's ears.

No one had spoken yet. Just three teary-eyed women all looking at each other-and probably for different reasons.

Just when Mark decided he should take Caroline to find a snack in the kitchen, Angela stepped back and looked straight at him.

Bewildered. Completely bewildered, if Mark had to guess.

"Next Friday morning," Cathy said. "Florinda returns."

"Could you excuse us for a moment?" Angela asked calmly.

They found refuge in the kitchen. Angela took to pacing from one end to the other, stopping at the refrigerator, spinning around, and marching to the cabinets.

"She did it. She really did it," Angela huffed.

"She found Florinda. It's amazing!" Mark said, pretty sure that wasn't what she was referring to but hoping the mention could ease her nerves.

"I know! Do you know how much I've wanted you to meet Florinda and for her to meet you?"

"Seems like your mother did." Mark smiled. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

"Oh, my mother. She's going to get her way. I can't believe it. How does she do it?"

"What way? What do you mean?"

"What do I mean? Don't play dumb here. That mother of mine has been trying to set the date for our wedding before we were even engaged. And here we are. Getting married next Thursday."

"Whoa, wait. Next Thursday? Says who? That's two days before Christmas." Mark hadn't moved from the spot where he'd been leaning against the sink, about the midpoint of Angela's pacing track. But now he stood straight, his weight no longer on the counter.

"Good thing you're catching on, since you're the groom here," Angela said dryly, still pacing, still steaming.

"You're not serious? Cathy's not serious? It's December, remember?"

"Mark, that sweet woman flew all the way from Portugal to attend my wedding. You think I'm going to let her go back without seeing it?" Angela didn't stop pacing. This wasn't up for discussion.

"You are serious. But-"

"But what? 'Let's just go with it.' Remember saying that?" Angela asked.

"Yes, but-"

"No matter what she brings, right?"

"Right, but this isn't a tree. This isn't a knickknack from Germany or a purse from Italy."

"Exactly, Mark. Welcome to my life. No, wait-our life."

"Angela, I don't see how we can pull off a wedding by next week! You said yourself it takes months."

"We don't have months, Mark. We have days. About four of them."

Mark stretched his arms out, palms up, as if to plead with some mysterious kitchen appliance deity.

Angela stopped directly in front of Mark, tears welling up in her eyes.

Mark stopped thinking of the farm and customers and the holiday and wrapped his arms around Angela instead. He pulled her close and let her sob.

He smoothed back her hair and whispered in her ear.

"How about we get married next week. Right here, with our friends and family. A small, sweet ceremony. Anything you want. It may even be the winter solstice. What do you say to that?"

Angela pulled away enough to search Mark's face. She did that when she was trying to figure him out, it seemed. More tears tumbled from her eyes as she nodded.

"I'll go ahead and call Papa, give him the good news," Mark said when it had been quiet for a moment.

Angela lifted her head. "Oh no. When are they coming back? They were going to spend the holiday with Dorothy's daughter," she said.

Mark could see another storm of tears threatening. "Let's call them right now. Maybe they can find a flight."

Papa answered, and Mark related the events of the day and how, as of that moment, they were planning a wedding for next Thursday. "Could they make it?" he asked, understanding it would be costly to change their flights. When he hung up the phone, he smiled to Angela and hugged her close.

"Papa said Dorothy was already calling the airline. They'll come in on Wednesday."