Mason blushed. “I can make time for you.”
Ginger laughed. “I like the inn. Their cooking is better than yours.”
Arriving at the Cozy Holly Inn, Ginger was greeted by the familiar faces of the knitting club—Dorothy, Ida, Myrtle, and Mabel—all clustered around the fire, their needles clicking rhythmically.
Dorothy looked up, surprise etching lines onto her face when she saw Ginger’s luggage. She put her knitting project—a bright fuchsia-and-orange hat that jutted out at strange angles—into her bag.
“Are you moving back to the inn?” Dorothy came over to stand next to her. “You know, you’re welcome to stay with us as long as you want.”
Ginger’s heart tugged at the invite and the thought of staying on with the Woodwards. But if she couldn’t save the trees, then she didn’t deserve to stay. “Thank you, but I’m back on my feet again, so I figured I’d let Ethan have his place back.”
Dorothy pulled her away from the bustling lobby and into the quiet sanctuary of the hall. “Is this about the trees?” she asked, the hallway’s dimmed light softening the worry lines on her face. “Has your latest concoction worked?”
Ginger felt the familiar sting of disappointment. “Unfortunately, it hasn’t. I did apply one last serum just before leaving the cabin, but…” She sighed. “I’ve told myself not to get my hopes up this time. I’m afraid if this one doesn’t work, I’m out of ideas.”
Dorothy clasped her hands together. “Well, there you go! This one might just be the miracle we need.”
Ginger’s heart fluttered at her optimism, but reality grounded her. “It might take some time to work, but unfortunately, well… I sort of told the mayor we’d have a tree for him to look at tonight.”
Ginger could barely look Dorothy in the eye. Why in the world had she told the mayor they had a tree all picked out? She’d wanted to put him in his place because he was being a jerk, but she might have made things worse for the Woodwards.
Dorothy’s eyes widened. “You did? And the trees might not be ready?”
Ginger shrugged. “I have no idea. The serum just went on an hour ago, so it will probably be too soon.”
Dorothy’s gaze drifted over Ginger’s shoulder as the door opened, letting in a gust of frosty air. “Well, speak of the devil,” she whispered.
“Mayor Thompson! So good to see you!” Ida’s voice chimed from the living room. She hurried toward the mayor and offered to take his jacket and scarf.
He pulled an envelope from the inner pocket of his Canada Goose jacket. “The special permit for the parking for the New Year’s Eve party came across my desk, and I figured I’d drop it off while I was in this part of town.”
“Thank you so much.” Ida tucked the envelope into her apron. “Won’t you come in? I have fresh baked cookies and hot cocoa.”
“Thank you, but I have to get to a meeting.” He craned his neck toward the living room. “Ida, where’s your Christmas tree?”
“Oh, I always wait until Christmas Eve. I like my trees fresh.” Ida exchanged a glance with Dorothy. Apparently, Ida was in on the tree problem. She’d probably told the mayor she usually waited to throw him off the scent. Ginger liked her all the more for it.
Unfortunately, her glance at Dorothy made the mayor turn in their direction. He looked a bit taken aback, as if he hadn’t realized they were there. Surprise flashed across his face, followed by a tinge of suspicion. Ginger’s cheeks warmed, and she felt as if she’d been caught spying.
Acting like they were just coming down the hall, Ginger and Dorothy moved into the foyer, blending seamlessly into the conversation. As they engaged in small talk with the mayor, Ginger thought about her next move. Maybe she could persuade him to postpone his visit to see the tree tonight…
“I’m really looking forward to seeing the tree tonight, Ginger,” he said, oblivious to the undercurrent of tension. “I’ve always admired how the Woodwards’ tree lights up Pinecone Falls every Christmas Eve. Quite a sight.”
His words hung in the air. Ginger glanced at Dorothy. How was she going to get out of this?
She pasted a smile on her face, not willing to let her anxiety show. “I hope it won’t disappoint, Mayor Thompson,” she managed to say, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Indeed.” The mayor’s eyes narrowed, and then he turned toward the door. “Well, I must get to my next stop.”
It was Ginger’s last chance, and she acted before she even thought about it. As Mayor Thompson opened the door, she lurched forward, sending the bottom of her crutch right in front of him.
His right foot caught, and he lurched forward, falling out onto the front porch.
“I’m so sorry!” Ginger squeaked. “Me and my klutzy moves…. I hope you aren’t hurt.”
Dorothy ran over to the mayor, shooting Ginger a look of approval on her way over.
Scrambling to recover from her supposed accident, Ginger took in the scene around her. Dorothy and Ida had swooped in like a pair of overprotective hens, immediately fussing over the mayor, their voices a symphony of concern.
