Page 73 of The Forever Christmas Tree

Everyone was leaving now, except for Harry, and Gloria, who had suffered one of her bouts of dementia during the night in which she’d apparently removed all her clothes, put on a coat and shoes and was about to walk to her job at the library. At three a.m.! And her not having been a librarian for at least a decade now! The whole house had been alerted to Gloria’s intentions by the barking of Elmer’s pain-in-the-neck dogs, who were now being lauded as heroes. Claudette, fast asleep on the sofa bed in the same room as Gloria, hadn’t heard a thing because she wore earbuds playing soft music to help her with intermittent insomnia.

Even though Gloria didn’t remember anything about her nighttime episode, Aunt Mildred was fearful that there might be a recurrence and therefore didn’t want to leave Gloria alone. Harry offered to stay with Gloria today, being tired from his morning meeting. In private, Wendy was informed by her aunt that a room would be available at a nice nursing home on Long Island, where her daughter lived, on January fifth; she had progressed beyond the capabilities of an assisted-living facility in a few short weeks and certainly beyond her aunt’s expertise.

Isn’t it interesting that Aunt Mil, even at her advanced age, has found a new way to have a meaningful life? Yes, to curb her own loneliness, but also to help others. I thought I was doing meaningful work in WEALS. I am doing meaningful work. But is it time for a change?

The parade wasn’t supposed to start until two p.m. and by the time they arrived on the square in front of the newspaper office, the streets were crowded three deep with townspeople and tourists. Parking had been banned from the main streets for the day, thus all the side streets were bumper to bumper with vehicles, including a number of news vans.

“Over here!” Laura yelled, waving them toward a small section which she had cordoned off for them. Four folding lawn chairs were arranged for the seniors, while Wendy and her friends stood behind them. Across the street in the center of the square was the gazebo with a recently installed Nativity scene next to the usual fir tree bedecked with fairy lights. This was a new addition to Bell Cove since the days when Wendy was growing up here.

Laura was dressed all in red today. A red tunic over red-and-white candy-stripe tights with a red Santa cap on her blonde hair, but her skin had been painted a puke-green color.

Wendy laughed. “Who are you supposed to be?”

Laura put her hands on her hips in mock consternation. “Mrs. Grinch, of course! Can’t you tell?”

“Well, now that you mention it . . .”

Laura struck a pose for a passerby who had raised a cell phone to take her picture. “If you’re posting that on the Internet, make sure you identify me as Laura Atler, A-T-L-E-R, editor of the Bell Cove newspaper, The Bell.”

“You’re really into all this stuff, huh?” Wendy remarked.

“Why not? It’s all for the good of Bell Cove. And it’s fun, too. Loosen up, girl.” And she was off to talk to one of her employees who was updating the grinch contest tally on the newspaper window. Ethan was still up there in the top five, along with Gabe Conti, Frank Baxter, Sheriff Bill Henderson, and some woman named Miriam Hostetler, who’d apparently opened the large driveway of her house for off-street parking for this weekend and was charging a grinchy fifty dollars a day.

This latter news was imparted by Aunt Mildred, who giggled and said she probably would have done the same if her house had been closer to town. But then she quickly added to Wendy, “Just kidding, darling,” figuring that once her niece was back in California she would be imagining all kinds of schemes added to her aunt’s list of crimes, aside from opening her home to swinging seniors.

Laura wasn’t the only one into the grinch costume idea. There were lots of grinches, mayors, Cindy Lous, and various other Whoville residents. And the storefronts as far as Wendy could see were into the whole Dr. Seuss theme, offering items related to the famous story.

It was fun. Laura was right about that. And everyone was being so nice. Probably because they didn’t want to get any grinch votes, but still the atmosphere was welcoming. She could see why Geek was attracted to the place.

Our Lady by the Sea church bells tolled the hour then. One, two distinctive chimes. Followed by St. Andrew’s. Bong, bong, different but equally pleasant. And then the town hall clock, clang, clang. It was the signal for the parade to begin.

The Blue Harbor High School band led off the parade with a whomping loud rendition of “Jingle Bell Rock.” Fred’s Fresh Fish Market followed in a pickup truck decorated with cardboard waves along its sides. In the back was Fred’s son holding a fishing rod bigger than he was with an enormous stuffed blue marlin on the end of the line. Said fish had no doubt been mounted on someone’s wall a short time ago, maybe even Gabe Conti’s. Supposedly one of Gabe’s ancestors was into taxidermy-chic décor.

Several spiffy boats were towed by an Outer Banks marina which sold oceangoing vessels of the luxury type. Mini-yachts. More suited to Corolla or other mansion-heavy communities. But interesting, nonetheless.

Which called to Wendy’s mind the time she and Ethan had made love on a friend’s boat. Not a mini-yacht by any definition. More like a small fishing boat, so small that Ethan couldn’t fit his six-foot-two frame onto the cot.

We were so happy then. Had no clue what we were doing sex-wise, other than making use of condoms by the dozen. Just joyful to be together, innocently inventive, and enthusiastic in learning how to do this or that, often with funny results. Like the time Ethan heard that the 69 position was especially hot, and we thought it meant spoon-style.

“Our dance club was invited to do a float in the parade,” Aunt Mildred noted idly as they watched the parade.

“Really?” This was the first Wendy had heard about that.

“Yep, and we could have put on a good show if we’d had time. Dancing demonstrations to Christmas music. Maybe some hot cha-cha outfits like you see on Dancing with the Stars. We could even have Elmer play his accordion. Did I mention Elmer is an accomplished accordionist?”

Wendy just gaped at her aunt. “So, why didn’t you?”

“No time with you and your friends coming home for the holidays and all the preparations. Not that I’m complaining, sweetheart. Maybe next year.”

Oh, boy! Wendy smiled at the image that came to mind and almost missed the St. Andrew’s Bell Choir parading in their red choral gowns as they rang a pretty version of “Silent Night.” When Wendy had been in high school, there was a waiting list to join the group which traveled throughout the state to perform. They even appeared on EWTN-TV occasionally, and made an appearance before Pope Francis when he came to the United States. They were that good.

A Rutledge Tree Farm truck driven by a young high-school-age kid came next with Cassie a.k.a. Cindy Lou standing on crutches tossing candy to the crowd. Sitting in a chair next to her was Eliza Rutledge wearing a Santa hat, her only concession to the holiday; she was holding the leash to a dog with lopsided reindeer horns, Harvey a.k.a. Max, who looked as if he’d like to bolt over the side.

Wendy was a little concerned about the crutches, wondering if she had overdone the exercise with the girl yesterday.

When Cassie saw Wendy, the girl waved madly, and Harvey barked hello, too. Eliza Rutledge just grinned.

The mayor came by, sitting on the backseat of a convertible. She was still a little orange from her daughter’s tanning efforts. Undaunted, Doreen Ferguson smiled as if she were queen of the world in a deep green sweater with sparkling snowflakes.