A Snowflake Christmas--The Nutcracker Read online

  A Snowflake Christmas – The Nutcracker

  Vickey Wollan

  Table of Contents

  Copyright © 2021 Vickey Wollan

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Epilogue

  About Vickey Wollan

  Other Books by Vickey Wollan

  Connect With Vickey Wollan

  Copyright © 2021 Vickey Wollan

  All rights reserved. No part of this story may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the author, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locals is entirely coincidental.

  To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.

  Learn more about Vickey Wollan at:

  https://vickeywollanauthor.com

  [email protected]

  ISBN EBOOK: 978-1-7355340-2-2

  To Paul…

  Your support, encouragement, and belief in me have made my dream of being a published author come true. You are an extraordinary human being and the best partner on every possible level.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This novel counts as the fourth time my fiction writing will be published. I’m thrilled with my new professional career. I hope reading my work brings you as much joy as I find while creating it.

  Please forgive me if I forget someone. The following published authors have been instrumental to the publication of this book (whether they realize it or not): Debby Grahl, Melody Johnson, Elise Darby, Barbara Whitaker, Karen Renee, Sara Walker, Gloria Ferguson, Abigail Sharpe, Laura Salas, P.K. Brent, Candese Nieves, Alyssa Day, Lia Davis, C.L. Thomas, and especially my critique partners Maggie FitzRoy and Leah Miles.

  A special thank you goes to author and Editor Nancy Quatrano of On Target Words.

  I can’t begin to thank Abigail Owen of Authors on a Dime for creating a gorgeous cover. It brings A Snowflake Christmas – The Nutcracker and the A Snowflake Christmas series to life.

  Stacey Johnson Photography was an expert at capturing my playful and carefree self.

  Romance Writers of America and the local chapters Central Florida Romance Writers, Volusia County Romance Writers, and First Coast Romance Writers provided more knowledge and support than I can describe. The members of these organizations are nurturing and generous beyond words.

  My family and friends provided unwavering support and encouragement: Diane, Bonnie, Dee, Erica, Jill, and Kathy B. Thank you to my parents and sister for helping me believe that I can accomplish anything. My highest gratitude goes to my husband. He allowed me to follow my dream and gave me a boost every time I needed one. Your love is the greatest gift I’ve ever received. Again, thank you so much to one and all.

  Chapter One

  SNOWFLAKE, MONTANA, WHITEFISH MOUNTAINS

  “Timber!”

  Olga looked up from the tree binding machine. She expected to hear a tree fall - but didn’t. The stillness made her uneasy. That voice sounded youthful. She needed to investigate since her Christmas tree farm encompassed the entire western facing side of the mountain.

  She turned an ear up the slope listening for the crunch of footsteps in the icy packed-snow while she moved as fast as her athletic body could through shin-deep powder past the strategically placed rows of the young Christmas trees planted last year.

  Injured children aren’t in my business plan, she thought as she cleared a mountainous ridge in her Montana hometown of Snowflake. She stopped when she spied a sparse three-foot tall Douglas fir lying on the ground. Next to it, a boy around nine or ten stood over his conquest with a miniature hatchet still in hand.

  Who let their kid wander off? She thought back to the customers on the farm and didn’t remember seeing him earlier.

  “Hi.” Olga offered a cheerful smile and a mitten-covered wave.

  My standards on how kids should behave are probably too high which is why I’m not ready to be anyone’s mother.

  She hesitated, not sure how to chat with a customer’s son. “Looks like you cut down your tree of choice all by yourself. Good job.” She meant it. The base of the tree looked like it had been cut by her father, who had decades of lumber jack work under his belt. Okay, maybe this boy has some experience wielding an axe.

  The youth stood up straighter and puffed out his chest. “Yes, ma’am. Thanks for noticing.” An amazing pair of blue eyes peered up at her, aglow with a praise-accepting sparkle. “I’m Quinn. Nice to meet you.”

  Quinn is not a common name in these parts. Can it be…? “I’m Olga. This is my farm. Thanks for choosing Christmas Trees of Snowflake.” She’d practiced the phrase for months and hoped it rolled off her tongue naturally now that it was finally true.

  “Your grandfather would be proud of you,” said a calm, deep voice.

  She jumped, then attempted to turn around to see who’d said the kind words, but instead ended up tripping over her own boots in the frozen drifts of snow. Her eyes misted at the thought of Gramps and her lips trembled.

  But she quickly sniffed all that emotion back when she remembered the pompous accusation made by her former friend-with-benefits from college.

  “Women are too emotional to hold leadership positions in business,” he’d said. Olga had held the fellow volleyball player in high regard, so his lack of confidence in the curvier gender left a scar she still carried.

  That comment had been the beginning of the end of their relationship. Do all men think women are so incapable? Now that she’d become a business owner, it haunted her.

  “Are you tabulating spreadsheets in your head again?” asked the tall man who stood just feet away.

  “Huh? No. Erik, it’s nice to see you.” She stopped to swallow a girlish giggle. “Oh, sorry, you paid me a compliment. Thanks for that.” She gave him what she hoped was a warm but not overly friendly smile. She had no time for romance right now. No time for distractions of any kind, including memories.

  She squared her shoulders and dared even one solitary tear from forming in her eyes. “You think so? His legacy means very much to me.”

  “Absolutely!” Erik’s smile was genuine and broad.

  She relaxed a little. She didn’t need to hide her feelings from him. She’d grown to trust and respect Erik Lund. And, if she didn’t have her hands, head, and heart full of getting the business back in the black, she’d consider giving him some of her time. Not all men looked good with a five-o’clock shadow, but there was something about his casual but commanding attitude that made his stubble-covered face attractive to her.

  I don’t know which I enjoy the most, the whisps of light brown hair sneaking out from beneath his hat or the way the sunlight reflects off his blue eyes. There was something about the kindness she witnessed in his eyes that drew her to him. But, back to business.

  “Well,” she said, putting the pieces together, I’ve just made an executive decision. After meeting your son, I will no longer use your nickname, Monkey. Who gave you that crazy name anyway?” Erik had often hinted he wanted her to meet Quinn, but this was a surprise. Too bad she hated surprises.

  Olga had put Erik on her male-friend-but-not-boyfriend list. Especially after she found out she’d inherited the Christmas tree farm. She knew from past experience that she could only handle one big goal at a time. Gramps had given her this opportunity, a business she could run as well as any man. But the stakes were high. The last year’s taxes were behind and then there was her father . . . anything resembling romance would have to wait.

  Erik was the total package. Tall, athletic and intelligent. Not to mention, he treated her with more respect than any man his age ever had. Unfortunately, her cross to bear had always been the inability to focus on more than one thing at a time. As owner of the Christmas tree farm, her life had become business before pleasure.

  She looked at the pair. Now that she thought about it, she’d seen Quinn with Erik somewhere, probably at the Café or the Trading Post. This was proof that she needed to concentrate on her business. Who would see a man with his son and not put one and two together? With a sigh, she realized that the Erik’s son was speaking to her.

  “You know my dad’s real name? You must be someone special.” Quinn slipped the hatchet into a tool belt that was clearly several sizes too big for him. Then he stepped toward his freshly chopped fir. “I got an A on my spelling test, so Dad is letting me upgrade our tree this year.”

  Quinn’s outdoor-voice
explanation brought her back to reality. Keeping this customer, Erik’s child, happy was her newest priority. More business, less daydreaming.

  The boy’s rambling continued. “We just came from the Trading Post. Bodie, you know him, right? Everybody knows Bodie. He’s the Trading Post owner and tribal elder. He let me put some ornaments on layaway.” He gestured at his treasure. “This year’s tree is going to be epic.”

  Olga glanced at Erik out of the corner of her eye. He seemed to cringe a little when his breath left his lungs with a whoosh. “I sent a text a couple hours ago. Bet your cell is out of range up here.” The man had always been great at reading body language and she figured she hadn’t been able to hide her reaction to seeing father and son together. “Anyway,” he said, concentrating on adjusting his gloves, “Sorry, we had a last-minute change of plans.”

  Pleased to escape the onset of awkwardness, she stood back amazed that without much effort, Quinn tossed the small tree over his shoulder and started back toward the parking lot like a tiny lumberjack. Pride glowed on Erik’s face as Quinn moved out in front of them. He peaked out from under the fur of his aviator hat. “Sorry if meeting Quinn like this was a shock. I know we’ve been holding off on a formal introduction. This celebration seemed right.” Erik’s smile brightened as he raised an eyebrow and wiggled it. Then he lifted his arm.

  She leaned away just enough that he stopped what she thought might be an attempted side hug. His grin faded. As Erik turned to follow his son, his expression became even less jovial.

  She followed along with the miniature-Erik and his handsome dad as they traversed the glistening hillside. Besides the dazzling sapphire eyes, the pair shared the same thick hair and engaging smiles; all were obvious clues the boy was Erik’s son. She guessed this must be what Erik looked like at that age.

  Is Erik trying to take our ‘just friends’ status to the next level? Do I want that? The touching display of the love between the father and son duo in matching sheepskin bomber jackets became too much. She looked at the setting sun and took a couple of deep breaths.

  Her fear of failure froze her in place. I can succeed in business if I give up romance. They are customers like everyone else. She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when a draft blew past her face. Erik was next to her again. He must have doubled-back. It wasn’t the first time she realized that he always had a sixth sense about her location.

  “Snowflake is abuzz about the reopening of your farm and Christmas gift shop. I wanted to get here early before all the best trees were purchased.” Erik reached back and held out his hand to help her over a particularly icy patch. He seemed to always be there to help when she needed him. “Quinn wasn’t supposed to chop without me.” Erik scratched the stubbly whiskers on his chin and gave her a half-hearted smile. “I had checked my phone to see if you’d responded to my text and Quinn was out of sight in an instant. I hope that tree was designated for this year’s crop?”

  “Well, if that’s the tree he wants, then he should have it. Don’t worry.”

  Less profit when a tree is cut before it reaches five feet. She took an unusually awkward step forward. Get out of your head and enjoy his friendship.

  His glove met hers. She started to smile but bit her lip instead. Erik’s strength and balance impressed her. Not every man had the skills needed to haul heavy objects when maneuvering in the mountain climbing gear he used when maintaining cell towers.

  Her balance restored, she broke away from his support, turned in a complete circle, and wrapped her arms around herself. Everything she surveyed was now under her care. “I still can’t get over it. Gramps bequeathed the company and land to me. He told my parents about his plans, and they gave their blessing. I’m still surprised at that.”

  Erik stopped and their gazes met. “Anyone who knows you, sees you have a passion for the renewability of natural resources. You were the best choice.”

  Olga paused to savor the compliment. “Still, it was a bold move. Not many women business owners in this town, yet.”

  The shadows grew longer as the sun began its decent for the day. The orange and yellow hues made the new dusting of snow more beautiful. She’d reopened the farm in just two short months. Blowing a kiss to the sky she murmured, “I’ll do you proud Gramps, I promise.” Then she fell in step with Erik to continue the journey back to the checkout counter.

  Erik had many enduring qualities. He understood her. The fact that he didn’t try to rush her into a romance earned him bonus points in her mind. They’d invited each other to group activities for a little less than a year. Since those events weren’t a date-like environment, she got to see his normal behavior. Her attraction to him grew every time she looked at him even though that wasn’t what she wanted. Or, needed.

  About three months into the ‘we aren’t dating’ relationship, he told her he had a son. From then on, one of the two of them repeatedly found excuses to put off the introduction.

  Olga wanted to be a mother someday, but she hadn’t contemplated dating someone with a kid. Now that she’d met Quinn, that reality was walking down the mountain just ahead of her. Her thoughts raced in her head. I’m taking on so many new responsibilities. I don’t know if I can handle running the Christmas tree farm. I need to be my own woman before I become anyone’s stepmother. Will Erik understand I want to remain friends for now?

  Olga decided to make the best of today’s situation and let tomorrow come as it may. “Hot chocolate is on me,” she shouted to Erik’s son before he was out of ear shot.

  “Really? Oh boy, that sounds good.” Quinn picked up his pace. “I’ll race you.”

  Erik called out, “Remember my axe accident last year? You’ve got a sharp edge in your belt. Getting stitches was no fun”

  The message reached Quinn’s ears and apparently, he understood. He changed back into his lower gear.

  The tension in Erik’s body melted into the snow. “I smelled the chocolate when we arrived. Is there real whip cream?”

  She gave an easy laugh. This was her friend. “It’s made the old-fashioned way. Whole milk with melted chocolate, no powdered wannabe. I whip cream myself every day and have festive sugar sprinkles, too.” Her mouth watered just thinking about the homemade delight.

  Erik teased her by licking his lips and rubbing circles on his tummy. “Tasty. I bet you sell as much cocoa as you do trees.”

  “Of course.”

  As she worked on those hot chocolates, she thought about her financial situation and said a silent prayer of thanks to have Sophie as her boss at the café in town. She’d kept her job there, since the income from Christmas Trees of Snowflake was seasonal. But Olga had plans. Big plans. Since Sophie let her work odd and ever-changing hours, she had the ideal set up to become a successful entrepreneur. With her competitive edge honed as a student-athlete, Olga possessed what it took to overcome any obstacle life could throw at her. Well, everything but my father’s respect and experience….

  * * *

  Erik helped Quinn load the tree into the back of their Chevy pick-up, but his eyes followed Olga when she headed towards the small all-wooden structure which doubled as the refreshment stand. Tree secure, he strode at the fastest pace that his son could handle, back towards the former barn, longing to be near her again. He liked natural beauty and she was a poster child for the outdoorsy woman.

  Few people were natural blondes, but Olga’s fair hair and perfect ivory skin made her stand out in a crowd. Her green eyes mesmerized him. It took all his inner strength to keep himself from staring at her beautiful face. Or maybe his attraction was based on her height. She was taller than most women in town.

  He didn’t want to be obvious but allowed himself to take the opportunity to see where she lived. He’d driven past this mountain on the road that hugged Lake Snowflake but had no idea one person owned the entire mountain. The tree farm covered the western-facing side of the breath-taking landscape. With his background in sustainable forestry, he noticed the sections of trees based on their age. Her home had been modernized over the years, but the original humble rustic beginnings remained.