But first, they had to fix the trees.
She wheeled over to the door and opened it, letting in a swirl of snow and chilly air as Ethan approached. “How did it go?”
He grimaced and bent down to scoop up one of the other kittens—Gabriella—who had tried to escape out the door. “Fungus… still there,” he admitted, his voice hoarse.
“And the needles?” Ginger pressed, her heart sinking at his downcast expression.
“There’s some new green,” he offered, but she could see the hopelessness in his eyes. “I don’t think these trees are going to be ready. I feel like I’m failing my family and, worst of all, my father.”
She reached out, her hand landing softly on his arm. “Ethan,” she said, her voice filled with conviction, “he’d be proud of the way you are facing this challenge. The important thing is not to give up. I’m sure I can find something else to try.”
“I need to find a way to stall the mayor,” Ethan said, his voice tense.
Ginger felt a twist of unease in her stomach. “Oh, umm… about the mayor…”
Ethan set Gabriella down and frowned at Ginger. “What about him?”
Ginger bit her lip, fidgeting with a loose thread on her sweater. “Well, I ran into him at the tree lot when I was gathering pine boughs for the cabin,” she confessed, glancing toward the festively adorned mantel. “And he was… well, quite brusque. He mentioned the possibility of going to another tree farm!”
Ginger could see Ethan’s shock and immediately regretted not saying something sooner. “So, I might have… umm… sort of told him we had a tree ready for his inspection tonight,” she admitted sheepishly.
Ethan blinked at her in disbelief. “You told him what? Why?”
She shrugged, her cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I don’t know… wishful thinking?”
Ethan sighed and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “All right, well… Let’s see what we can do about this.” He took a deep breath as if steeling himself for the task ahead. “I’ll head to the mayor’s office. Maybe I’ll think up something brilliant on the way that I can use to get him to reschedule coming to see the tree.”
As Ethan marched out of the cabin, leaving a swirl of cold air behind him, Ginger felt guilt gnawing at her. She watched the door close behind him, her mind racing. Had she just ruined everything with her big mouth?
A spark of an idea ignited in her mind. It was a long shot, but it was all she had left. With renewed determination, Ginger opened her hefty botany books, ready to dive in. She might not be able to change what she’d done, but she wasn’t about to give up.
Chapter27
Every corner of Pinecone Falls was bursting with Christmas spirit. Snowmen sporting vibrant scarves waved from yards, fairy lights twinkled like constellations on each tree, and oversized ornaments swung from every porch. The town was the epitome of holiday joy. But Ethan barely registered it.
A single question whirled in his mind: how could he delay the mayor without ruining the Woodward reputation? His grip tightened on the steering wheel. The answer eluded him.
The mayor’s office was in a brick building in the center of town. Ethan entered, his boots echoing on the polished marble tiles.
“Hi, Sheila,” he said, managing a smile for the receptionist, a middle-aged woman with a warm smile and glasses perched on her nose. “Is Mayor Thompson in?”
“Ethan Woodward!” Sheila greeted him, her eyes lighting up with familiar warmth. “I’ve missed seeing your dad around here. It’s good to see you stepping up. The mayor’s got his hands full today, though. You might be waiting a while.”
Ethan nodded, his heart sinking. “No problem, I’ll wait.” He slumped into a chair, the weight of disappointment settling over him. His gaze fixed on the mayor’s closed office door.
As time dragged on, the office’s quiet ambiance turned his thoughts introspective. The scent of pine wafting from a wreath on Sheila’s desk caught his attention.
“Sheila,” Ethan began, peering at the wreath, “is this from our lot?” A fleeting moment of pride flashed within him at the possibility.
“It is.” Sheila smiled. “I wouldn’t buy anywhere else.”
Ethan didn’t know if that made him feel better or worse. At least she hadn’t mentioned the absence of the balsam firs in the lot. But her words only reminded him that many in town were depending on him to provide them.
Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up then shot Ethan an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Ethan. The mayor’s not going to be able to fit you in. Can you come back tomorrow?”
Defeat squeezed Ethan’s heart. “Sure. Thanks, Sheila.” He managed a small smile for the receptionist on his way out.
As he trudged down the snow-dusted path, a familiar face hailed him. Ethan recognized the sturdy silhouette of Bob Wainwright standing in front of the Pinecone Falls Café. Bob, with his snowy beard and creased smile lines, was an enduring part of the town’s charm. The trusted town doctor had become his father’s close friend, always there with wise words and a listening ear.
