“Ethan!” Bob’s voice echoed across the street, his vibrant blue eyes brightening as he spotted Ethan. “Seems like it’s been ages! Care to join an old man for some pie?”
Feeling the weight of his worries, Ethan nodded, welcoming the idea of some friendly chatter. The comforting aromas of cinnamon and freshly brewed coffee greeted them as they stepped into the café.
Over slices of warm apple pie, Ethan found himself confiding in Bob about the challenges he was facing at the farm. Bob listened attentively, nodding occasionally, the compassionate creases around his eyes deepening as Ethan spoke.
Finally, after polishing off his pie, Bob leaned back in his chair, gazing at Ethan thoughtfully. “Your father loved you, Ethan. His pride was never about the Christmas trees, but about who you are. Remember, life is about growth and change. It’s high time you embraced it.”
Bob’s words resonated within Ethan as he made his way back to his truck. He was evolving, allowing the guilt about Sarah to recede, and preparing to step into a new chapter of his life. Perhaps it was time for him to shape the farm in his own way, moving beyond his father’s shadow and letting go of the fear of letting people down.
Were the trees really that important? Would it be the end of the world if he couldn’t put out balsam firs this year or provide the town with the tree for the Christmas Eve lighting? Probably not. Perhaps he’d had his priorities mixed up, but luckily, it wasn’t too late to change them.
He climbed into his truck and started the engine. The soft purr intertwined with his steady heartbeat. As he drove away, the twinkle of the town’s Christmas lights in his rearview mirror seemed to echo his sentiments.
His heart fluttered with anticipation as he thought of returning to his cabin and seeing Ginger. The prospect of her company brought a surge of warmth that cut through the winter chill and sparked hope for the future. He smiled, realizing that maybe things weren’t so bleak after all.
Chapter28
As Ginger zipped the final suitcase, she felt a pang of sadness. She didn’t want to leave, but she’d failed the Woodwards, and she couldn’t bear to see the look of disappointment on Ethan’s face.
Mason stood in the doorway, his brow furrowed, casting long glances at the precarious luggage tower. “Ginger, are you sure about this? The stairs at the Cozy Holly Inn could be problematic.”
She glanced out toward the rows of trees. She’d come up with a last-ditch attempt for the trees, and she’d called Mason and had him use the sled to lug her out so she could apply it. All she could do now was keep her fingers crossed and wait. But if it failed like her past attempts, it was better if she moved back into the inn.
“Yep. The doctor said I can be fully on crutches, and I’ve inconvenienced the Woodwards enough already.” Ginger glanced out toward the rows of trees again.
“Are you sure? You’re not exactly graceful, and I know Kristen and Dorothy love having you here.” Mason seemed genuinely concerned.
“Not graceful?” Ginger punched him playfully in the arm, the movement almost toppling her over on her crutches. “I’ll be fine.”
To tell the truth, Ginger wasn’t sure how she was going to navigate the stairs at the inn. With her uncoordinated movements, she’d almost taken a few spills on level ground. But she couldn’t stay here anymore.
“If you say so.” Mason picked up one of the suitcases. “I know how stubborn you are, so I’ll just do as you say.”
Ginger laughed. “Besides, I could use some advice from the knitting crew over there on my project.” Ginger patted the tote bag full of tangled yarn.
A soft patter of paws echoed on the wooden floor, drawing Ginger’s gaze to the trio of kittens scampering toward her. Their tiny forms, full of energy and curiosity, blurred into a flurry of orange and white.
Gwendoline, the largest of the bunch, with her snow-white paws, was the first to reach Ginger’s feet. Her purr was soft, like the hum of a distant motor, her sea-green eyes full of innocent curiosity as she peered up at Ginger.
Next was Gabriella, her fur an exquisite blend of sunset orange and pearl white that created unique swirls across her back. Her green eyes held a spark of mischievous intelligence that often led to escapades around the cabin.
Last to join was Geraldine, the runt of the litter, with her wild, untamed orange fur and wide-eyed curiosity. Geraldine, unlike her sisters, was a bit more timid, preferring the company of her siblings to adventures.
Ginger cradled them close, each one nestling into the warmth of her embrace, their soft fur tickling her skin. She brushed her fingers over the delicate patterns on their fur, committing each distinct marking to memory.
“I guess I’ll have Myrtle come and get you,” she choked out, her voice wavering. The three kittens, as though sensing her sadness, brushed their heads against her hand in a show of comfort. She’d left them plenty of food in their bowls and fresh litter boxes, making sure they would be comfortable until Myrtle arrived.
Kissing each kitten on the forehead, she murmured her goodbyes then shut the cabin door and headed to the truck, resisting the urge to look back.
Ginger squeezed into Mason’s truck. Her luggage was piled in the backseat. As they navigated the snow-covered roads, the truck’s heater hummed, battling the biting cold outside. Despite the wintry conditions, a comforting sense of familiarity filled the cab as Mason guided them toward the Cozy Holly Inn.
“I know the Woodwards are happy to have you at the farm,” Mason said.
“I know, but it just feels weird taking over the cottage. It’s time for me to move out.”
“You’re welcome to stay with me and Dad. We have a bedroom on the first floor.”
“I’m not kicking your dad out of his bedroom. Besides, you’re kind of busy with Kristen, aren’t you?” she teased.
