"THE GUYS will clean it up," Noah said, grabbing one of the coffee cups. "Don't worry. We'll get it to the Lodge by noon."
Nat didn't doubt it. The Northstar Tree Farm staff was working as fast they could. She'd expected some whining and dragging of feet because she'd dragged these folks out to work the day before Christmas, but she couldn't have been more wrong.
Everyone was working hard, particularly Noah who had shown up in his trademark hipster lumberjack clothing. It was unclear how the flannel shirts, Timberland boots, messed-up brown hair, and tortoiseshell glasses were perceived in the perennially stylish television industry, but Noah had found his look in high school and had not looked back.
"Thank you so much, Noah," she said. "You're a real lifesaver."
"Oh, it's nothing," Noah said.
Wait, was the television director blushing?
"Don't be silly," Nat replied. "It's a big deal, coming all the way here to cut down a tree the day before Christmas."
Noah raised a brow. "I'm Jewish."
"And no longer working on the farm," Nat countered. "I bet you haven't cut down a tree since your first college internship in Hollywood."
Noah laughed. "That's true, but it's like riding a bike."
"So, Mr. Hotshot Hollywood director, why are you out here re-enacting your lumberjack days?"
"More like Manhattan director," he muttered. "That's where our headquarters are located."
"Well, that's a coincidence. My client is coming in from New York City. His name is Cyrus Blackstone."
Noah didn't take the bait.
But Nat was relentless. "His nanny used to work for the Hagens. You may have heard of her. She likes Jecca's cupcake bouquets—"
Noah sighed. "What is it with this town?" Noah exclaimed. "Gossip travels at warp speed in these parts."
Nat smiled. "We were considering dubbing the town the Gossip Capital of the US, but the council thought Christmas would sell better."
"They may be wrong about that," Noah said.
"'Fess up, Hitchcock."
Noah laughed. "I don't do mystery. But I do know Leah."
Nat's smile turned into a grin. "No, really?"
"Sure, act surprised," Noah said, rolling his eyes. "It's pretty hard to keep a secret in this town."
"You were sending her cookies every month. What did you expect?"
"She likes Jecca's cookies," Noah explained. "That's how we met. She dropped by to buy a box of cookies on her last day here last Christmas. I was right in front of her in line. She was in a hurry, so I let her cut in."
"Well, of course," Nat said, laughing. "It's the gentlemanly thing to do."
"We got to talking and I gave her my card. You know, in case she was interested in working for my company."
Nat frowned. "You mean as an extra? That was your pick-up line?"
She knew Noah's company often hired tourists to act as townspeople in his movies, but this was ridiculous.
"I couldn't think of a better one," Noah replied. "She was leaving right away. Anyway, it worked. She called me when she got to New York."
"Because she wanted to spend her summer vacation dressed up as a Christmas elf?"
"No, but one of the Hagen kids had to interview an artist for a school assignment." He shook his head. "Going to a coffee shop to answer a thirteen-year-old's movie questions wasn't my idea of a first date, but Leah didn't seem to mind. Since then, we've been chatting and going out, so when Mr. Blackstone forgot to make Christmas plans, Leah saw an opportunity."
"And recommended me," Nat smiled. "And you went out of your way to make sure Leah has the perfect Christmas tree."
Noah shrugged. "I didn't expect to have to do it, but with dad being in such a grumpy mood, I knew I had to step in. He's been insufferable for days and a Christmas tree is a matter of family pride."
"My mom is acting strangely as well. Do you know what happened between them?"
Noah shrugged. "No idea. He wasn't as excited as usual when I told him I'd be staying for a while this year. I thought it was because he wanted to spend the holidays with your mother. He'd been talking about her non-stop. Did you know that she found him some vintage Christmas tree ads?"
"For real?"
But that was exactly the kind of thing her mother would do. As far as Marisol Quinn was concerned, nothing said I love you like a box full of vintage treasures.
"So what happened?" she asked.
"I don't know," Noah said. "When I got to town, they had already broken up. My father was drowning his sorrows in apple-cranberry kringle."
One of the farm hands approached them.
"We're good to go, Noah," he said. "Merry Christmas, Nat."
"Same wishes to you, Jerry," Nat replied. "Thanks for all this."
Nat glanced at the Northstar truck. Sure enough, the tree was lying on the bed, completely devoid of snow or debris. "That was fast."
The man grinned and elbowed Noah in the ribs. "Someone told us to hurry."
Noah raised a brow. "Et tu, Jerry?"
"We cleaned the branches," Jerry continued, ignoring Noah's comment. "We figured it wouldn't be romantic if a certain lady had a bird's nest fall on her head."
Noah sighed. "We have to get the rest of the greenery, so we can deliver it to the Grand Lodge."
"Done," Jerry said, giving Noah a hearty pat on the back. "We even found some mistletoe for you."
"That wasn't on the list," Noah grumbled, his blush returning.
"Well, we figured it might help," Jerry said, winking at Noah as he extracted another coffee cup from the container.
"Sugar and cream are in my truck," Nat said.
"You think of everything," Jerry replied, grabbing the carrier. "I'll take this to the boys."
Then he headed for the truck.
Noah rolled his eyes. "We'd better go. You still have a ton of work to do before Cyrus Blackstone gets here. I hear he's not one to be kept waiting."
"Really? Mr. Won't-Take-No-For-An-Answer? I'm shocked."
"You sound pretty sure of yourself," Noah said, as they walked toward the tree.
"I'm adopting a Zen attitude," Nat replied, trudging through the snow in her trusty snow boots. "Food is taken care of. Cookies, taken care of. Tree, same. All I have to do now is create a holiday wonderland out of boxes of leftover ornaments in," she checked her watch, "four hours. Easy peasy."
Noah laughed. "Famous last words."
"Why? Is Mr. Blackstone that much of an ogre?"
He certainly didn't sound like one on the phone, but he was a businessman and she knew that a certain ruthlessness came with the territory.
"No, Leah likes him quite a bit. It's just, he's concerned about the kids. The divorce was hard on them and their mother is remarrying..."
"That can be complicated," Nat said. "It speaks well of him that he's focused on his children, though. I'm sure he has a private life, just like his ex-wife."
She instantly wished she could take the words back. Why was she fishing for information regarding Cyrus's love life? It was none of her business.
And she knew that her assignment involved enough food for only four people—Cyrus, Leah, and the two kids. There was no girlfriend coming over for Christmas. But there could be someone in New York.
"Not really," Noah said. "According to Leah, he just works. He works way too hard, as far as she's concerned."
That was interesting. Not that it had anything to do with Nat, of course. All she could do was empathize with Cyrus. She was sure she had a bunch of unread text messages from her mom, several of them no doubt addressed Nat's workaholic ways. What was wrong with working hard, anyway?
"And he expects other people to work too," Noah said, finishing his coffee. "So we'd better get going. You don't want your client in a bad mood."
Nat glanced up at the sky, a wave of panic washing over her. The sun was going down, which meant she was running out of time. Yes, she had a tree, but she still had to decorate the thing along with the rest of the house. Everything was taking longer than it should. The way this was going, Cyrus would arrive at the Grand Lodge and find a lovely bare pine and boxes of decorations.
"Oh, I think he's in a bad mood already," Nat said.
Noah frowned. "What do you mean?" He paused, thinking. "What are they doing right now, anyway? Leah said they'd be here by noon."
Nat licked her lips in a nervous gesture. "They had some things to take care of."
"The day before Christmas? What could that possibly be?"
That was a good question.
"A little shopping," Nat confessed, taking out her phone to check her messages.
Compulsive micromanager Cyrus Blackstone had been suspiciously quiet this morning. Maybe she had missed a call? There was a chance that their flight had been delayed. Slim chance, she knew, given that they were on a private plane, but hope sprang eternal.
"Today?" Noah asked. "Shopping where?"
"I sent them to Mall of America," Nat answered.
Noah shook his head disapprovingly as she scrolled through her messages.
None of them were from Cyrus. All of them were from her mother.
And none of the many panicked missives were complaining about her work ethic.