For their anniversary they went back to the spa for a weekend again, though this time it was Boone's treat. As they swept into the holiday season, Shannon was glad that he'd taken the time for himself, their first Christmas in the catering business was going to keep him hopping, she knew.
The bookings were coming fast and furious, and on top of that he still got calls to make baked goods for school and church bazaars. As always, Boone tried to please everyone, though with a full staff and their expanded facilities it certainly made it simpler and was far less of a demand on his time and energy.
It was a Saturday afternoon at the beginning of December, Andrew could sense the disruption in the air as he descended the stairs to the kitchen, knowing there was an argument underway before he even saw and heard his folks. Heard? Must be serious, he decided, though they weren't yelling, just speaking especially politely, it was a sure sign.
"Boone, I'm not asking permanently, just this once. We had one when we were kids," Shannon was saying in an overly syrupy tone.
"No. It's not happening, Shan. I'm not budging on this." Boone responded flatly.
"Hey guys, what are we discussing now?" Andrew went to the fridge and pulled out the milk jug.
Boone automatically went to get him a glass. "Your mother wants a real tree."
"Really?" Andrew had never had one; it sounded intriguing; he poured his beverage and put the jug back in the fridge.
"Yeah, I thought it would be nice, we could all go and cut it down ourselves." She directed her comment to Andrew, sensing she might have a compatriot on her side
Andrew nodded, interested.
"Cut it down. Cut? That sounds so festive and jolly! Falalalala lalalala," Boone sang, "Let's all go murder a tree! Fala. Happy times, folks, for everyone but the tree." He spat.
"Oh, for god sakes, stop being such a tree hugger, go rescue a baby bird if you want to make yourself feel all noble." Shannon rolled her eyes. "Besides which, these trees are grown for just this purpose. If anything brother dear you're denying the Christmas tree growers of California their livelihood."
Andrew got himself settled at the table, he wanted to enjoy this; it had all the promise of proving quite entertaining.
"Niiiice, and I'm denying beef farmers their livelihood because I don't eat red meat. That doesn't mean that I'm going to buy a porterhouse, stick it in a corner with baubles on it and then throw it out a week later, just so I can line their pockets." Boone argued, reasonably.
"Look, you guys developed your own traditions while I was gone, maybe I'd like to have one of my own with you." Shannon tried a different tack.
"Tradition? It's going to be a tradition now is it? I thought you said it would be just one time." Boone pounced.
The next fifteen minutes would have done the Harvard debate club proud as they argued back and forth. Andrew sat and finished his milk, adding a cookie from the tin on the table, when it looked like he'd have time to eat it too. He waited for his opening, which Shannon provided just as he polished off the last crumb and downed the final sip.
"So you'd actually deny your son the experience of having a real tree?" It was a low blow and she knew it as she voiced the childish argument.
Boone was just about to call her on it when Andrew spoke up. "It sounds like it could be fun, Boone. I'd like to give it a chance."
Boone gave him a wounded look. "Traitor."
The next Saturday morning they all set off in Boone's sedan. He'd searched through the back of the garage and emerged with a chain saw, but Shannon made him put it back.
"Boone Carlyle and chain saw don't belong in the same sentence." She shivered as she pictured splashes of crimson staining a carpet of fir tree needles. She pointed decisively to the handsaw hanging on the wall.
Boone had been pouting a bit, but once they got in the car, and Shannon stopped gloating, he did his best to get in the spirit of the outing.
At the tree farm they wound their way back and forth through the evergreens, waiting for one to grab their attention. Andrew finally gave an excited cry and pushed through some boughs to get to the one he wanted, "Over here guys!"
They circled around it, approvingly.
"Okay Boone, show us your Paul Bunyan impression." Shannon urged, somewhat sceptically.
He placed his hand on one of the boughs, "Sorry little guy." Boone intoned solemnly, his other hand over his heart, as he sniffed a fake tear.
The other two snickered and rolled their eyes at his melodrama.
Boone got on his stomach; he'd had the foresight to wear his motorcycle jacket and bring his riding gloves, and wriggled under the tree, managing to poke himself in the eye only once, however his hair got tangled twice. They could hear muffled cursing and then the sound of the blade sawing back and forth on the trunk, the soles of his exposed boots rocked in time to his efforts. After about five minutes he scuttled back out.
"It's just about all the way through." He told them getting to his feet, there was a red welt on his right cheek where he'd gored himself on a branch. "I'm just going to go around the other side and finish it off. When I yell, can you please try and catch it so it doesn't fall on me?"
They nodded quickly, and moved to either side, while he burrowed back in again.
They didn't have long to wait before Boone hollered, "Okay," and the tree started teetering, falling in the one direction that they hadn't counted on, the two moved to try and grab it, but didn't quite manage. The trunk kicked back, the butt end almost catching him in the forehead, but instead the sap covered trunk scraped painfully down the left side of his face.
"Way to watch my six, guys." He complained, wiping his glove across the sticky mess, succeeding in smearing it even more over his face and in his hair.
"Here Boone," Shannon handed him a tissue, which of course just stuck to the goop and left him with hair, needles, blood and bits of Kleenex obscuring half of his face. He looked like a failed decoupage project attempted by a kindergartener.
"Fuck it." He gave up attempting to get the remnants of tissue off his glove and cheek and pulled the rope from his pocket so he could loop it around the trunk and drag the conifer out to his car.
Boone got it bound up in other trees twice before Andrew and Shannon relieved him of the cord and took over the task themselves, Shannon humming Monty Pythons' The Lumberjack Song in amusement at his complete ineptitude.
"Bitch." He scowled at her as Andrew snorted and snerked. Boone kicked at the tree as they tugged it past him. "And you too." He shook a finger at it.
In the parking lot the attendant took one look at Boone and commented, "They don't usually fight back that much, you must have gotten real feisty one, sorry. I'll have to up their meds next time."
Shannon and Andrew burst into gales of laughter while Boone pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and paid the guy, smoke almost literally coming out of his ears. "Asshat," he muttered stuffing a fifty into the man's outstretched hand, his gaze challenging, just daring him to ask him for more.
"You want help getting that onto your roof?" He offered. They usually had at least one paramedic visit per season, he thought this guy looked like he was going to be this years' winner, thank god he'd gotten them to sign the indemnity waiver before setting them loose in the fields.
"What do you think?" Boone asked tersely, his lip curled.
"Ah…I think I'm going to go back to my nice safe hut." He wisely backed away.
Boone was a lot stronger than he looked, after flinging a blanket on to the roof he grabbed the tree and pitched it into the air, his anger adding even more oomph than he usually possessed. The hapless fir sailed over the car completely and landed on the asphalt on the other side.
"Motherfu…"
"Boone!" Shannon exclaimed. "Calm down, let us help."
His shoulders slumped in defeat and he nodded.
She pulled the blanket off the roof and put it on the pavement. Seeing what her intention was, Boone moved quickly to assist. The two adults rolled the tree up into as compact a cylinder as they could and held it tightly while Andrew wound the extra rope around it. After popping the trunk and folding down half of the rear seat they stuffed it in the car breathing a sigh as they regarded their safely stowed captive.
"Now we just have to get it home, into the den and set up straight." Andrew commented quietly.
"Aren't you just full of good news?" Boone's sarcasm hung in the air.
Several hours, one broken picture and a lot of cursing later, their Christmas tree was finally in place. Boone poured himself a huge scotch, flopped down on the couch and let Shannon clean him up with peroxide and wipes. To their mutual agreement, one proposed family tradition was completely abandoned.
The fiscal year end for CR Catering was January 31st. Many businesses didn't make it through the first year, and it was almost unheard of for one to turn a profit in that time. Boone already knew that they were going to buck the trend and come out ahead; he monitored the books carefully and went over them with Shannon on a regular basis, insisting that she know their financial position as well.
It was the end of February before their accountant finished his audit and they met with him to get the preliminary results. Boone gazed at his wife as she sat in stunned amazement, staring at the bottom line.
"W…w…we did it!" She stuttered.
"You bet we did. You had doubts?" He grinned; it was amusing to see her slightly derailed.
She shook her head, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly, her hands flapped in the air. "I fucking have a job! I'm fucking good at something! Holy shit!" She reacted like a cheerleader who'd just found out she'd been elected prom queen, Boone quirked an eyebrow at her juvenile outburst.
The accountant blanched at the colourful language, hoping he had no other clients in the outer office who could hear her.
"I take it you're pleased?" Boone asked nonchalantly.
Shannon squeeled like a fangirl at a Justin Timberlake concert and flung herself into his arms, kissing him and almost sending the chair he was in, and both of them, crashing over backwards. "I love you! I love this! Holy shit, I made money!"
"Uhm, I think it's more like we made money Shan." He protested.
"Shut up!" She kissed him again.
Once he fought her off, and got her to sit back down, Boone spoke about the plan that they'd already formulated on the way over, communing silently with each other across the many yards of asphalt that separated them. It was probably not customary for their accountants' clients to arrive on motorcycles, but that was what they'd done, the beautiful weather had proved far too tempting.
The man in the business suit regarded his eccentric clients, dressed in black leather and smelling of a mix of internal combustion engines and outdoors, and made some notes. "You want to retain ten percent net profit in the business and the rest goes back to the staff?" He verified.
They both nodded. This whole venture had been about personal satisfaction, most importantly Boones', not about money, they had more than enough of that to spend in three lifetimes, though Shannon still basked in the glow of their accomplishment.
The next week they convened a meeting in the company kitchen. They'd discussed which one of them would speak, naturally Shannon though it should be Boone, he was in charge of more of the staff than she, but he reasonably pointed out that she was the business manager, and as such, was the voice of CR Catering.
"I'd like to thank everyone for throwing their lot in with us. It couldn't have been easy to risk everything and take a chance on a business run by a woman who had never actually even had a job, and a man who had decided to become a chef even though he had no training and had never cooked professionally. Throw into that the fact that, except for a few of you, you were all being asked to perform tasks that were completely new to you. We owe a great deal to all of you, thank you." Shannon stopped and that point and the two of them started applauding, the rest joining in slowly, still not sure if the outcome of this meeting was going to be good or bad.
Once the clapping died down, she took a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder at Boone, giving him a private half smile. He smirked back and nodded his head at her to continue.
"So, okay, I guess you'd all like to know why we're gathered here." She opened her jacket and pulled a wad of envelopes out of the inside pocket. A few people drew frightened breaths and looked terrified, certain that she was going to hand them all their walking papers, but the majority gasped and smiled in anticipation.
Andrew stood with his back to Margie, her hands resting lightly on his shoulders; she was one of the pleased ones. He smiled at his mom, and laughed softly, he'd picked up on the mixed emotions of those in the crowd, and knew that Shannon loved the drama she was creating.
She went on, continuing in a neutral tone of voice. "Well…we uhm, we met with our accountant, and…"
"Oh, for god's sake Shannon, stop acting like some soap opera diva, and just get on with it!" Boone exploded with a roll of his eyes, tossing his arms in the air.
"Spoilsport." She pouted at him, then turned back to everyone with a grin. "We did better than we could possibly have imagined. We know you weren't expecting it, but we've got profit sharing cheques here for everyone."
She held the envelopes for Andrew who strode forward and took them with a grin. He doled them out smiling happily.
The staff tore them open, gasps of amazement following hard on the heels of the sound of ripping paper.
"So," Boone said, "I've heard rumours that there's a really good catering company in the area that can throw together a party in a hurry. If anyone knows of a place like that, maybe we could get them to come to our house and cobble together a celebration?"
The food locker was thrown open and cars, trucks and vans filled in record time.
They danced together in their backyard for several songs until someone realized just how good they were. After that people watched them like they were Jennifer Grey and Patrick Swayze from Dirty Dancing. They broke out everything they'd ever learned from the dance classes they'd taken together. Boone's breathing was heavy as Shannon twined her leg around his, laying well back in his arms, her throat exposed in the light of the solar lights' dim illumination.
He shuddered as he leaned forward and kissed her neck once the last strains of the music died away. 'Later,' he promised silently.
'Many times,' Shannon responded, stroking a thumb across his cheek.
The party continued and Boone found himself across the road, standing on the slats of their dock, a sense of peace and completeness he hadn't felt in years cocooning him. The rest of his life stretched before him, he was looking forward to the journey.
Someone had started a bonfire on their beach; he heard the sound of laughter and the splash of either brave of drunken people in the somewhat chilly water, he knew that Andrew was one of the brave ones.
He felt Shannon's arms circle around him under the supple leather of his blazer. She slid her hands up the front of the softness of his grey cashmere sweater.
'Happy?' She kissed the side of his neck.
'You have to ask? What's the good of being telepathic then?' Boone thought.
Shannon laughed quietly.
With a whistle and a bang the sky erupted in a colourful display of fireworks. It was as if they'd hired George Lucas and ILM to provide the backdrop to their party, though it was only the neighbours from across the lake celebrating some occasion.
Boone turned in her embrace. Andrew watched from where he stood in the thigh deep water as they kissed, their lips and souls entwined forever as surely as their hearts and minds.