Page 63 of River Wild

My face is impassive. But I’m smiling inside.

Standing up to River is … fun. The most fun I’ve had in ages.

River turns his truck onto a track leading straight to Thistleberry Farm. He pulls up outside the farm store, and my heart leaps with joy.

Christmas trees are everywhere. And the store is decorated with the most amazing decorations. And there is an inflatable Santa and snowman bobbing about and fake reindeer attached to a sleigh, filled with presents.

It looks awesome. I bet it looks even better at night when it’s all lit up.

I wish I could see it at night.

River’s already out of his truck. I climb out, too. He meets me around my side with a large box in his arms, which he got from the backseat.

“It’s amazing,” I say with awe.

He gives me a look. “It’s a store.”

“I meant, the decorations and the trees. I bet it looks really pretty at night when it’s all lit up,” I voice my earlier thoughts.

“You like all this Christmas stuff, huh?”

I stare up at him. “Doesn’t everyone?”

He gives a shrug and shifts the box in his arms.

“You need a hand with that?” I ask him.

He gives me an amused look. “You’re funny, Red. Come on; let’s get this over with.”

I follow him up the few steps to the store, stopping at the window when I spot the most beautiful glass tree ornaments. “Wow … look at these. They’re gorgeous.”

There are intricate decorations—little Santas, penguins, stacked gifts, Christmas trees, snowmen and snowwomen, and even a Mrs. Claus. A silver star-shaped glass ornament. A clear glass angel with a gold halo. Standard glass baubles filled with white glitter that looks like a storm, small white feathers, sprigs of Christmas trees, ones that look like glitter galaxies in colors in varying shades of blues and purples. And they’re all made from glass and hand-painted. Or so the sign in the window says.

“It says they’re made by a local artist.” I tap my finger against the window. “I wonder how much they are. I would love to get some for my tree. Gosh, look at this one …”

I peer closer to the window. It’s a glass train. The detail on it is intricate. For some reason, I feel a little choked up, looking at it. It looks like so much time and effort went into this one little, tiny Christmas tree ornament. The artist must really love what they do and have so much patience to create something so lovely and delicate.

“This is beautiful,” I whisper. “I would love to get this for my tree.”

“They’re expensive. Especially that train. And, at this rate, you won’t get a tree. They’ll all be gone by the time I get you away from this window.”

“Oh, hush, Christmas Grinch.” I roll my eyes at him. “And how expensive are they?”

“The train is fifty dollars.”

“How do you know?”

“It says so on the price tag.” He lifts his chin in its direction.

Following with my eyes, I look back at the train and see a little brown price tag hanging from it. I missed it before. He’s right. It’s fifty dollars.

I can’t afford that. Especially not for a tree ornament.

Sigh.

“Okay, let’s go inside.” I open the door for him because his hands are full and let him through before walking inside myself.

There are stacks of fresh produce. Homemade jams. Pickles.