Blessings of the Season by Annie Jones

behind in the store for an extra hour or so after closing, with the cameras off, so that they could have a quiet “family” evening.
    â€œDon’t tell Maimie,” he said, dropping his keys into her cupped palm. “You take as long as you want, but stay in the front area so you won’t show up on the alarm system’s surveillance cameras.”
    It didn’t take any great persuasion to get Nate to linger. He was babysitting Jesse anyway while the Goodwins—Doc and Maimie, Darin and his new wife—went out to dinner to discuss the subject of the child of Darin’s first wife, whom he had legally adopted but did not want.
    â€œI know we’re not supposed to trim the tree until tomorrow,” Addie said as she kicked off her heels and undid the wide black patent-leather belt she had worn all day.
    â€œI can’t wait to do the tree!” Jesse went up to the spot they had picked out to put the large fir they were going to bring into the store to decorate throughout the day. “I wish we had one now.”
    â€œMe, too, Jesse,” Addie said, truly sad that they didn’t have one.
    â€œAsk and you shall receive!” Nate came into the living-room set with a two-foot-long rectangular box tucked under his arm. “One Christmas tree, fresh from the forest of junk in the warehouse.”
    â€œMy provider!” She clasped her hands together, went up on tiptoe and, raising one foot, planted a kiss on his cheek.
    â€œNate’s the best!” Jesse slid the box out from under his arm and plunked it and himself down in the middle of the oval carpet.
    â€œI went over and found it on my—” Nate turned his head unexpectedly “—lunch break.”
    Addie found herself staring right into those earnest brown eyes, and she knew. Her mother was right. She did love this man. She looked away quickly before he knew it, too.
    â€œHey, this isn’t a Christmas tree.” Jesse dragged the contents out of the box, littering the rug with a silver stick with predrilled holes and a pile of tinsel-covered branches wrapped in brown paper. He tugged one of them free, and the gleaming fringe sprang out in a shiny whale-tail pattern. “It’s pink!”
    â€œIt might not be the right era.” Nate shrugged. “I just went for the oldest-looking box I could find.”
    â€œIt’s all right. We’ll make do.”
    â€œYeah, but it’s not perfect,” Nate said quietly. “This is the first Christmas I’ve actually tried to celebrate in a long time. I kinda wanted it to be perfect.”
    â€œA perfect Christmas?” Addie rolled her eyes and laughed. “Why would you want anything that boring? The only really perfect Christmases are the ones that turn out nothing like you planned. That catch you by surprise. That remind us that we’re messy, imperfect humans, and for a time, because He loved us so much, God became one of us. Isn’t that the coolest thing ever?”
    â€œThe absolute coolest,” he murmured, brushing a wayward strand of pink tinsel from her hair.
    They set up the tree, but since it couldn’t have lights they had to make do with directing a large flashlight, the kind that made a sort of spotlight, at it. And since the ornaments were already in boxes waiting to be brought out in a big production tomorrow, they had to make do with what they could find.
    â€œWait, I know what we can use.” Addie went to the kitchen and gathered up red plastic cookie cutters and some stylized copper cooking utensils. “I won’t need these anymore, since we’re not doing demos tomorrow.”
    They laughed and joked and hung them all around. Nate sacrificed the skinny green tie he’d been wearing to the “office” and Addie contributed her patent-leather belt for makeshift garlands. Still, when they stood back Jesse looked glum. “It needs something for the