Christmas Confection Perfection: Day #8 – November 28, 2025
Day #8 – Tree Truck
The next day passed in a blur of flour, sugar, and deliveries. By the time the sun dipped low behind the city skyline, Mary had baked through two playlists and three cups of cocoa.
All day, she’d felt that fluttery sensation of anticipation, something that sat somewhere between excitement and nerves. Not to see Ashton, she reminded herself again and again. Just excitement to be out in the winter air, surrounded by twinkle lights and pine, selling cocoa and Christmas magic.
Right. That’s all it was.
She told herself this with every fork press on her peanut butter cookie dough.
By the time she reached the Peterson Christmas Tree Lot, the evening air was sharp and fragrant with evergreen. The glow from the lights spilled across the sidewalk, painting the snow in shades of red, green, and gold. Jack, Elsie, and Ashton had already opened the gate and were helping a young couple inspect the taller trees near the fence.
Mary smiled and waved as she passed through the lot, tugging her wagon toward the cocoa stand. Elsie waved back, her red scarf bright against the night.
Ashton looked up just long enough for their eyes to meet. He gave her that easy, teasing grin that had somehow taken up permanent residence in her mind.
Mary’s pulse tripped. “Evening!” she called, pretending she wasn’t suddenly self-conscious about her messy bun and cookie-stained apron.
She made her way to the cocoa stand and started up the hot water and candles. Within a few minutes she had a line of customers waiting in the snow.
***
The evening hours flew by in a blur of cocoa, whipped cream, and gingerbread. Each time she glanced toward the front of the lot, she saw Elsie at the register and Jack and Ashton tying trees to car roofs.
By the time the last customer left, the lot was quiet, and the snow falling had turned into big fluffy flakes. Mary turned the volume up on her portable speaker and let the Christmas music spill through the cocoa stand, humming softly as she wiped down the counter.
“Good night?” Ashton came around the corner; his scarf dusted with snow and pine needles.
Mary motioned toward her nearly empty shelves. “I’ll need to bring more of everything with me tomorrow.”
He leaned against the counter, glancing at the small, cracked phone resting beside her. “That phone looks like it’s one tumble away from giving up completely.”
Mary rolled her eyes. “It’s been acting weird all day. Half the time it doesn’t respond, and when it does, it does the wrong thing.”
“May I?” he asked.
She handed it over hesitantly. “Just so you know, I’ve already tried turning it off and back on again. I would jiggle the cord next, if it had one.”
“Ah, the universal first aid of technology,” Ashton teased. “You’d be surprised how many forget those steps.”
He leaned over the counter as he pulled a small multi-tool from his jacket pocket. The way he handled it, precise and steady, captured Mary’s attention. His movements were confident but unhurried, his brows furrowed in quiet concentration.
“So… coding by day, phone repair by night?” she asked, hugging her arms for warmth.
He smiled faintly. “Something like that. I used to fix phones in college for extra cash. Comes in handy.”
After a few minutes, Ashton clicked a final piece into place and handed the phone back. “There. New glass, no cracks, and it should respond better now.”
Mary blinked. “You…carry a spare screen around?”
Ashton shrugged, but Mary could tell he didn’t do this as a habit—that he’d thought ahead, planned it.
She tested the screen. It worked perfectly. “Wow, thank you so much. That’s really nice of you.”
He gave another easy shrug, like it was nothing.
They locked eyes and something in Ashton’s expression softened. For a moment, the wind swept through, muffling sounds and making them both feel like they were in some great wilderness alone, not in the middle of a big city full of other humans.
Before anything more could be said, Elsie’s voice called across the lot. “You two ready for the hospital trees?”
“Yeah!” Mary started.
Jack appeared from behind a row of pines, carrying a clipboard. “Yup. Four trees headed to the children’s wing. Ashton, you’re driving the truck. Mary, your wagon may come in handy for the trees once you get there.”
Ashton nodded. “Let’s load them up, then.”
They walk toward the front where Jack was already motioning to the trees he had picked out. In usual Jack-and-Elsie fashion, the trees they had chosen to gift to the children’s hospital were the best the lot had to offer. Tall, lush, and gorgeously green.
Mary felt her heart swell as they worked to load the trees into the back of Jack’s old pickup truck.
They worked side by side, securing the trees in the back of the pickup. Their breath clouded in the cold air, mingling with the smell of pine and sawdust. When Ashton reached up to tighten a rope, Mary noticed the easy strength in his movements.
When he hopped down from the truck bed, he turned to her with a playful grin and motioned for the red wagon. “I feel like there’s a joke here about this pickup doubling a tow-truck, because it’ll be hauling your delivery truck.”
Mary crossed her arms. “A delivery truck delivering a delivery truck?”
He chuckled, hoisting the red wagon over the side of the bed rail and set it face-down on a Christmas tree.
“Be safe on ‘em roads!” Jack gave the pickup a pat, though he had directed his comment to Ashton.
Mary gave Jack and Elsie a smile as she climbed into the passenger side of the old truck.
The heater in the old pickup hummed like an overworked bee, filling the cab with a steady warmth that fought against the swirling cold outside.
“These roads are getting slippery.” Ashton mentioned as he tested the brakes.
Mary gripped the handle above the window, suddenly tense.
“You okay?” Ashton asked, glancing over from the driver’s seat.
“Fine,” she lied, eyes fixed on the road ahead. The snow was coming down faster now, turning the world into a blur of white streaks under the headlights. “I just…don’t love winter driving.”
“Noted,” Ashton said mildly, easing the truck into a lower gear as they approached an intersection. The tires crunched against the packed snow. “You’re safe. I grew up driving on mountain passes in worse than this.”
Mary shot him a side glance. “Really?”
He grinned. “Yeah. My dad used to joke that I learned to drive before I learned to walk. We had an old Ford with no power steering—you had to fight it like a bear to get around a corner. This?” He gestured toward the swirling snow. “This is just powdered sugar.”
That earned a laugh from her, though she still held tight to the door handle.
The truck slid a little on a curve, and she gasped. Instinctively, Ashton reached out and touched her arm. “Hey, I’ve got it.” His voice was calm, certain…which made her pulse skip for an entirely different reason.
He eased the truck back on track like it was second nature, one hand relaxed on the wheel, the other draped over the back of her seat as he checked his blind spot. He wasn’t showing off, he just was that kind of man: capable, unflustered, quietly confident.
Mary exhaled slowly. “You’re very…calm about this.”
“Panicking doesn’t change the weather,” he said with an easy smile. “You just adjust and keep going.”
Something about that hit deeper than he probably meant it to. Mary found herself watching the side of his face and the way the faint glow of the dashboard softened his jawline, the concentration in his eyes.
“You should probably stop gripping that handle before you break it,” he teased gently.
Mary’s head snapped forward again as she unclenched her hand and laughed. “Sorry. You’re very, uh, good at this.”
He flashed her a quick grin. “Driving or keeping passengers alive?”
“Both.” She said.
They drove in silence for a few minutes, the snow falling thick and quiet beyond the windshield. The world outside had gone soft and white, the kind of night that made everything feel slower, closer.
Mary relaxed by degrees, finally letting her hand fall from the door handle to rest in her lap.
“You really don’t get worked up, do you?” she asked.
“About driving?” He gave a small laugh. “Not much.”
“About anything. Driving. Crazy women tripping you.”
He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I used to. A lot, actually. I just learned it doesn’t help. So I focus on slowing down.”
For a moment, the only sound was the hum of the heater and the muffled swish of the tires through the snow.
Mary turned her gaze to the frosted window. “My sister used to tell me the same thing…about slowing down. She said life’s like baking: you can’t rush the rise.”
He looked at her, sensing something in her tone. “Your sister,” he said carefully. “You mentioned her before?”
Mary nodded. “Abigail. We used to bake together every Christmas. Every Friday night, actually. We would make a mess, but had so much fun. Flour everywhere. Cookies, laughter, terrible singing. It was kind of our thing.”
“She’s the one who got you into baking?”
Mary smiled wistfully. “Yeah. And when she passed, I just… kept baking. I think it was the only way I could still feel her there.”
Ashton didn’t say anything right away. His hand tightened briefly on the steering wheel. “That makes sense,” he said quietly. “My mom always said the right food can reach people in ways words can’t.”
Mary looked at him, her expression softening. “That’s true.”
“Guess that’s why your baking works,” he added, glancing at her. “You don’t just make it for people. You reach them.”
Mary smiled, her chest filling with a burst of warmth. A kind warmth she hadn’t felt in almost three years.
They drove the rest of the way in silence. But something unspoken lingered in the space between them in the old pickup truck, mutual understanding, friendship, and the faintest edge of something more.
Ashton finally cleared his throat as the hospital came into view. “We’re almost there.”
Mary nodded, though the ride had started out scary, now a part of her wished the drive would last a little longer.
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