Page 13 of The Forever Christmas Tree

Eliza took another drink of punch before replying. “Two things, actually. Have you heard about that silly grinch contest they’re having in town?”

“Yes. Five thousand dollars raised already. Amazing!”

“What’s amazing is the number of people who’ve been nominated. Ethan and Frank Baxter are running neck and neck for first place at the moment, but I suspect they’re voting for each other. I came into the shop this morning, and my name was at the bottom of the list. Mine! Can you imagine? Who would ever think of me as a grinch?”

Mildred had to smile at her friend’s consternation. “Maybe you were a little grumpy with a customer.”

“Who wouldn’t be? Some of them are downright impossible. One man came in yesterday and asked for Christmas lights in blue and white. When I told him he could buy a blue strand and a white strand and intertwine them, he told me, no, he wanted me to go through and change out every other bulb, for the same price. Not that I would do it for any price.”

“Bet I know who it was. Old man Whitmore. He’s still a dyed-in-the-wool Penn State football fan. Practically everything in his house is blue and white.”

“You’re right! Anyhow, you’re the only one I could think of who would understand my upset over being called a grinch. I’ll tell you one thing—if I see anyone voting for me in our shop, I might very well hit him, or her, over the head with a wreath.”

Instead of pointing out that such action might be construed as grinchy, Mildred said, “Thank you again for the wreath.”

“I remember how much you liked Della Robbia decorations. Now you won’t have to go all the way to Nags Head to buy one.”

Mildred blushed at being found out.

“Anyhow, sometimes a person gets a lightbulb moment. They see themselves the way other people do. And it was a rude awakening to me that someone would think of me as a grumpy old lady. And I asked myself, ‘Is this what all your bitterness has made you, Eliza Rutledge?’ I didn’t like the answer.”

Mildred understood. Until she’d invited people into her home—Wendy’s home, she corrected—she’d become bitter, too. “You mentioned two reasons for stopping by today.”

“I heard that Wendy is coming home.”

Mildred stiffened. This was a touchy subject, especially so early in their reconciliation. “Yes, but only for two weeks,” she emphasized.

“I was shocked when I first heard that Wendy joined those female Navy SEALs. She always wanted to be a doctor, like her daddy. Is she happy?”

Mildred shrugged. “She seems content, but then, the fact that she rarely comes home should tell you something. How about Ethan? He was going to be a veterinarian, as I recall. Is he happy?”

“Pff! That boy hasn’t been truly happy for twelve damn years. Oh, he cared about Beth Anne, and he adores his daughter, but . . .” She sighed. “You know how it was with him and Wendy.” Eliza drank the rest of her punch and held out her cup for a refill before looking Mildred in the eye and remarking, “Don’t you think it’s about time we set things right?”

Chapter 4

Some things never change . . .

Wendy drove her rental car onto the Bell Cove Ferry, the last leg of a five-hour journey since she’d left the airport at Norfolk. Getting to the southern end of the Outer Banks was never easy, but, to many, the inaccessibility was an attraction, not a disadvantage. In any case, in another hour, she’d be in her hometown of Bell Cove. Most of her driving time had been spent on Highway 12, the Beach Road, and that included several other ferry rides, two humpbacked bridges, and slow-downs through a dozen or more small towns.

Normally, during the high tourist season, it would take much longer, but there was little traffic at this time of year and day. Many, but not all, of the hotels and shops were closed. She could have cut her time by hitting the bypass for at least part of the trip, but who could resist this more scenic route?

Diane, apparently, Wendy thought, with a smile, as she glanced over at her friend, who was asleep beside her in the passenger seat, having partied all night prior to their red-eye flight from San Diego. At first, Diane had oohed and aahed over the oddly named towns along the OBX, like Kitty Hawk or Kill Devil Hills or Nags Head or Ocracoke, not to mention the scenic lighthouses and signs announcing OBXmas holiday events, such as the Winter Lights at the Elizabethan Gardens, or the town where they sang carols after lighting the municipal Crab Pot Tree. Apparently, some of the towns were attempting to amp up winter tourism.

Wendy, on the other hand, couldn’t sleep if her life depended on it. She was so hyped up she could barely breathe. The closer she got to her destination, the more nervous she became. Her hands on the steering wheel felt clammy. Her heart raced. She could swear she heard bells ringing in her ears, which was impossible, being so far away from the famous bells of her hometown, not to mention the roar of the ferry boat’s motor and the wind which was always strong here on the inlet off of Bell Sound.

It was Ethan, of course, who was causing her distress.

Am I crazy?

That stuff that Geek said last week about SEALs is probably true of WEALS, too. The only reason you’d want to be one is to prove something to yourself, to prove something to someone else, or because you’re just plain crazy. I fit all three.

Path-et-ic!

Ethan probably won’t even be there.

But what if he is?

About time I put old ghosts to rest.