Jonas carried the last of the logs to the stack beside the hearth. "That should last until New Year's Eve, at the very least."
"Thank you, dear. I'm sure we'll be fine. And my grandsons will be here for Christmas, so I'll enlist them if we need more fuel." She smiled at him. "You're sure you won't stay for a cuppa? Carrying wood is thirsty work."
"I'm OK, thanks, Mrs Evans."
She shook her head. "Well, nobody can accuse me of being a bad host. I've left your money on the table at the front door."
"Much obliged." Jonas tugged his beanie over his ears and went to the entrance. "See you at the Christmas Market?" he shouted down the passage.
"Wild horses couldn't keep me away."
Jonas smiled. He pocketed his earnings and pulled the door shut behind him. He could see his breath ahead of him as he walked to his pick-up. It was just after four in the afternoon, and he could already count the first stars on the horizon.
*
"Oh, thank goodness you're here, Jonas."
It was Francine Boysen, also known as Frankie Busybody, although she was never called that to her face. His mother always said every community needed a busybody because they knew everyone's business and that was useful in times of trouble. Besides, Francine had to make herself useful as the mayor's wife, and she loved nothing more than delegating while appearing to work hard herself. She flapped about the stalls of the market and nitpicked her way through the displays. Older members of the village knew to ignore her with a smile, while the new arrivals fretted over meeting the impossibly high standards she seemed to expect.
"How can I help, Mrs B?"
"Please, call me 'Francine'. 'Mrs B' makes me sound old."
"Yes, ma'am. Should I start arranging the trees at the lot?"
She consulted her list. "Yes, oh my goodness. I nearly forgot about that. But I want it ordered and neat, OK? None of this post-modern disorganisation so many young people seem to favour these days."
"Neat and ordered. Got it." Jonas waited until he was nearly out of earshot before turning and saying, "See you later, Mrs B!"
He arrived at the lot and found Jerry Twigg unloading the trees from the delivery truck. Jerry was in his sixties and very proud of his strength. He'd suffered a setback when he'd broken his ankle the year before but he was keen to prove that he was as fit as ever.
Jonas slipped on his leather gloves. "Here, let me."
"Thanks, laddie." Jerry dragged the back of his hand across his brow. "I'll save you the best one for your trouble."
"It's no trouble. I just want to be as far away from Frankie Busybody as I can."
Jerry's laughter was cut short by a chesty cough. "I don't blame you. She could stir milk into cream with one of her looks."
"And unless we make this lot look somewhat organised, she'll be all over us like a rash." Jonas paused. "You wouldn't happen to have a flask of something warm, would you?"
The relief was embedded into Jerry's smile. "I've still got some coffee in the hut."
"Great. You get that and I'll get going on arranging these," he said, gesturing at the trees.
*
"Amelia, dear, could you come down here?" Francine paused at a stall selling baked goods.
The proprietress was stapling bunting to one end of the fascia board when she heard the voice at the bottom of the ladder. "As you can see, Francine, I'm rather busy."
"I do see, only your bunting is skew."
"That's the idea, Francine," said Ella. She was holding the ladder in place. "My grandmother is going to drape it across, like this." She retrieved her phone from her back pocket and found a picture for Francine to see.
Francine's lips formed a line. "Carry on, then."
Ella watched her scuttle off and then went back to steadying the ladder.
"She hates it when you call her 'Francine'."
"Which is exactly why I do it. She bullied me enough when I was a child. I'm hardly going to stand for it now."
Amelia descended the ladder and handed the stapler to Ella. "She means well, you know."
"She's also just mean."
Amelia grinned. "Fair enough. But don't be too hard on her."
"I'd rather we'd be hard on ourselves about the fact that we don't have a Christmas tree yet." Ella bit her tongue. "I'm sorry, Gran. I know that was Grandpa's job." She tried to ignore the brimming of Amelia's eyes.
"He had great taste in trees too. Tell you what, since you're so good at bossing people around, why don't you try your luck with Jerry Twigg at the lot? See if you can get him to reserve a nice tree for us."
"A cup of Glühwein says I can."
"I'll believe it when I see it. He's tough as old boots."
*
Jonas had spent the better part of an hour positioning the Christmas trees into a half-circle. When Jerry questioned his logic, he said it gave the customers the best view of all of the trees at once. Jerry couldn't argue with that, so he left Jonas to it, and headed off in search of more coffee. Jerry had been gone less than ten minutes when Jonas heard someone shifting trees at the opposite end of the display. He didn't usually get annoyed, but he'd had enough of people questioning his methods. He leant the tree he was busy with against the side of the hut and crossed the lot.
"Hey, I thought I already explained..." It wasn't Jerry.
"Explained what?"
"Sorry, I thought you were someone else. Can I help you?"
She glanced around the lot, and then rested her eyes on the tree to her left. "I want this tree."
"No can do."
"And why, may I ask?"
"Market rules. No reservations. If you have a problem, speak to Mrs B."
This was going to be harder than she thought. "OK, what if I don't reserve this tree and buy it outright?"
"Can't do that either. No trading until the 26th."
"Listen, Jerry... You're Jerry, right?"
Jonas opened his mouth to protest but was cut off.
"Here's the thing. For sixty years my grandfather came to this lot and picked the perfect Christmas tree. He died a few months ago and now my grandmother has no husband and no tree." Ella's eyebrows threatened to join her hairline. "And she's everything to me, you know? I can't bring her a new husband, but I sure as hell can bring her a new tree. What do you say, Jerry? Do we have a deal?"
"He's not Jerry, I am."
Ella spun to meet the voice behind her. "You're Jerry?" She wasn't sure about his being tough as old boots, but he certainly looked worse for wear.
"Last time I checked, yes. That's Jonas. He's helping me here today."
She spun back, hoping her face didn't reveal her shame. "I'm so sorry. I thought..."
"You're Amelia's grandkid, right?" said Jerry. "I remember George. He came every year. He had a nose for good trees. But he'd never pick this one." He nudged the trunk with his boot. "The branches are too droopy for your grandmother's ornaments. Come with me."
Ella left Jonas with a lopsided grin on his face. He watched Jerry talk sixteen to the dozen about how to choose the best tree while she tried to look interested. Then, he went back to his half-circle arrangement, aware that Francine might show up at any moment.
*
"Good job, laddie. I've never seen Frankie Busybody so happy after a visit to our lot." Jerry scratched his head. "I can't pay you, but I think I have something you might like." He led Jonas to the back of the hut. "It's not much, but..."
"It's perfect. I love it. Thanks, Jerry." He patted the old man on the back. "I'll pick it up after Mrs B has called it a night."
"Good thinking. Oh, and one more thing... Her name's Ella." Jerry grinned and walked in the direction of the truck.
"Who?"
Jerry waved without turning. "Don't forget to lock up."
Jonas shook his head and went to the front of the lot. The rest of the market was looking cheerful and he loved the way the twinkling lights seemed to compete with the stars. All of his favourite things about wintertime were here, in this square: smiles, warmth, the smell of baking, crunchy leaves on the ground and the sense of fellowship that came from having red cheeks caused by Glühwein or the excitement of finding a perfect gift. He lost himself in watching the Fresnayes debate their garland display. Mrs Fresnaye couldn't make her mind up about which one should be near the front of the stand, while Mr Fresnaye couldn't hide his annoyance at having to rearrange the biggest and heaviest designs, only to return them to their original places. He heard footsteps on the leaves.
"Peace offering?" Ella held out a mug of Glühwein.
"I thought they weren't selling this yet?"
"I can be pretty persuasive."
"Thank you."
"My name is Ella."
"I know. Jerry told me." He offered his hand. "Jonas, nice to meet you." Her hand fitted well into his.
"About before..."
"Yes, I am sorry about your grandfather."
"No, I meant..."
"I know what you meant. And it's OK."
Ella exhaled. "I'm not always that... forward. I think I was just more assertive than usual."
"Mrs B?"
"Yes! She thinks I'm still the freckled kid she knew twenty years ago."
Jonas frowned. "You mean you're from here?"
"Not exactly. I stayed with my grandparents when my parents divorced. Then my mother came back for me and we moved around a lot. Then, when Grandpa died, I thought it was time for me to come back to the only place that ever felt like home."
"Your Grandmother must be happy to have you back."
"She's still deciding." They chuckled. "But you must be new here?"
"Ten years on Saturday."
"How'd you end up here, then?"
"That's a story for another day. Right now I just want to drink my Glühwein and watch the lights. Is that OK with you?"
She nodded.
*
When she couldn't stand the cold any longer, Ella took his empty mug and said, "I live with my Grandmother now. And I'm free on Saturday, in case you want to tell me the story." She backed away slowly. "Good night, Jonas."
"Good night."
To be continued.
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