A Snowflake Christmas - The Nutcracker: A Snowflake Christmas, #2

By Vickey Wollan

A Snowflake Christmas -The Nutcracker is the second book of the A Snowflake Christmas series. The third and final book of this series A Snowflake Christmas - The Elf is now available! All three are sweet and clean holiday romances set in the fictional small town of Snowflake, Montana. Each novel stands on its own.

 

Olga Vogel, a native of small-town Snowflake, Montana, knows the value of hard work and focused determination. When she finds herself the sole inheritor of the Snowflake Christmas Tree Farm, she decides her personal life must wait while she concentrates on successfully running the business. Olga turns to her father for support and is astounded when he questions her management suitability.

 

Olga's decision to step away from romance gets complicated when Eric Lund, a sexy single father seems determined to capture her attention. Then Grant Miller, who broke up with her to become a college football star, returns to Snowflake acting as if he wants to rekindle their relationship. Drawn to each man individually, Grant's charisma and Erik's giving nature, Olga struggles with decisions about her future.

 

Can she run a prosperous company, and find one true love?

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vickey Wollan
• Release date: Nov 3, 2021
• ISBN: 9781735534022

Vickey Wollan

Vickey Wollan has written for business publications, but is excited to embark on her long-awaited romance writing journey. Her stories are designed to transport readers to a less stressful portion of their day and leave them with a feeling of awe. Her work is now published in six fiction books including a completed three-novel series. The Christmas season is the backdrop for Vickey’s earlier stories because most people allow their inner-child to roam and their innate generosity to ooze at that time of year. She has now branched out beyond holiday stories, but her writing will remain sweet and clean. Originally from Ohio, she moved to Florida in the late Eighties. But, there’s something about a white Christmas that fills her heart with joy. She draws from her vivid imagination while creating characters that come to life in plots that will keep readers guessing, but leave them with a happily ever after. With a background in healthcare and wellness she hopes to intertwine her past skills with her longing to write in a way that sooths the nerves and reminds folks there is still good to be found in our fast-paced world. Vickey uses experiences from her trips to our country’s National Parks with her husband to create authentic outdoor settings that will come to life in the reader’s mind. Thank you for your curiosity and interest in Vickey Wollan’s creations. Please check back often for her most recent story that it might help you find reading that relaxes.

Book preview

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 descent 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 endearing 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.

The rock and timber structure looked warm and inviting. She’d told him about moving into the log cabin. Her house, with three chimneys and square footage for five or six rooms, was much more than a cabin. He chalked up her comment to her unassuming modesty. It made him grin. He was about to ask Quinn if he wanted to get a closer look at the homestead. But as if on cue, or more likely an automatic timer, the Christmas lights on the dwelling came to life.

All the customers within sight halted, making hushed oohs and aahs while they admired the display. Several cutout figures on the lawn were outlined in twinkling lights in what represented Santa’s workshop. In the space between the cabin and the barn was a large snowman complete with blue eyes made of painted baseballs, a smile of black buttons and a real carrot for a nose. The shiny black-plastic top hat was tilted, and the gold-colored scarf with sequins sewn in the white of the snowflakes moved with the breeze. The trees around the snowman were encircled with white lights including several branches with strings of blinking lights that looked like dripping ice cycles. The most prominent piece of the display was on the roof. Huge block letters lit with red and green lights spelled PEACE.

It was a bit early for the lights to be on, but Erik figured it was just another one of Olga’s brilliant marketing ideas. The house, as with many in the area, had a humble beginning and several additions over time. It was larger than his and he wondered if that would matter to her. One way to find out is to get up the nerve to ask her out on a real date.

Bing Crosby’s version of Do You Hear What I Hear was playing in the background when Erik and Quinn entered the barn. Hovering near the entrance, he observed Olga working in the make-shift kitchen with incredible ease and grace. She practically glowed with joy as she moved around the kitchen. He realized his son had strolled ahead and had planted himself in front of the long wooden counter.

Yes, please. I’ll have whipped cream. Quinn fidgeted back and forth, both hands on the counter, ready to claim his treat.

Leave it to his son to be at the camping stove asking for all the trimmings. Erik moved forward to join him and rested his hand on Quinn’s shoulder to give it a gentle squeeze.

Recognizing his father’s reminder, Quinn spoke. Thank you for the hot chocolate. This is very kind of you.

Erik appreciated that his son was usually polite and well behaved. The divorce and his mother’s subsequent naval deployment seemed to have had a minimal effect on his personality. Quinn was a well-adjusted kid.

Erik rubbed his son’s back, and Quinn looked up at him with an overdone wink.

I’ll have the same please, Erik said. As he waited for her to create his treat, he surveyed the room.

There were several decorated Christmas trees, along with a wall of handmade ornaments and other tree decorations for sale. On the opposite wall resided a mural depicting the history of how trees came to be a part of the celebration of Christmas. As part of Snowflake’s volunteer fire department, the thought of dripping wax to affix a lit candle to a limb of a pine tree made Erik shudder, but that’s how trees were illuminated back in the day.

He took the steaming mug from Olga when it was ready, but the line lengthened behind him, so he thanked her and moved away from the counter. Seeing all the crafts gave him an idea.

Hey Quinn, I just realized we don’t have a topper. Why don’t you pick one out? Erik stood back and enjoyed his son’s response. When mirth danced in those blue eyes, all was right in the world. Erik took a seat at a table in the center of the floor and took turns watching Quinn study his choices and Olga delight her customers. I could get used to this.

After all the current shoppers had been served, Olga came to join him. What do you think of the mugs?

He took a closer look at the thick ceramic ware. They look sturdy, but pricey.

I know. That’s what I thought. Bodie gave them to me as a business re-opening gift. Can you believe it? I can’t think of enough snowflake currency methods to repay him. The grin widened on her face. Not that he’s expecting it, of course. But I really want to. If you have any ideas, I’m all ears. Olga took a sip of her own merchandise and sighed.

Snowflake currency? You mean the trading of good deeds instead of money, right? he asked.

Yep. Olga grinned. But I have no idea what Bodie needs.

Erik sat with her in comfortable silence. As his mind wondered, he swiped a finger full of creamy white goodness into his mouth.