The comforting click-clack of knitting needles filled the room as Ida, wise beyond her years, offered a sympathetic glance in Ginger’s direction. With Dorothy at the ER with the mayor and the others having gone home, they shared a quiet solidarity.
The steady rhythm of their conversation hummed alongside the gentle clacking of knitting needles. Ida looked at Ginger, her eyes glinting with the wisdom of years. “Ginger, dear, not having a tree isn’t the end of the world,” she said, the lines on her face deepening with her warm smile.
Ginger gnawed on her lower lip, her brows furrowing as she responded, “Maybe not for us, Ida, but it might be for the Woodwards. This is their livelihood. They’ve built their lives around those trees.”
Ida let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. “The Woodwards are a resilient lot. They’ve been the backbone of this town for generations. Sure, the Christmas Eve tree ceremony is important, but do you truly believe that missing it once is going to unravel everything they’ve built?”
The question hung in the air, a challenge and reassurance mingled into one. Ida’s calm conviction contrasted Ginger’s fretful worry.
“You’re being too hard on yourself,” Ida advised gently, her experienced fingers navigating the yarn effortlessly. “You put your heart and soul into helping those trees. Who’s to say your latest concoction won’t work with a little time?”
“But time is a luxury we don’t have.” Ginger’s gaze swiveled to the empty tree stand. “The mayor is itching to get his tree today, and there’s none to give. What will this mean for the Woodwards?”
“Sounds a mite dramatic to me.”
Am I being overly dramatic?Ginger wasn’t sure, but Ida seemed to think so. Kringle sat beside Ida’s rocking chair, his swishing tail narrowly avoiding the descending rocker with uncanny precision. Even he seemed to be looking at her as if she were making too much of the whole thing.
But watching Kringle reminded her of the three kittens. She missed them and hoped they would be okay. Myrtle would surely find good homes for them. With a soft sigh, she pondered, maybe a cat wouldn’t be such a bad idea when she returned home.
“I’m sure Ethan doesn’t think any less of you, dear.” Ida’s gaze drifted out the window, and Ginger followed it to see Ethan’s truck pulling up in front.
“Looks like we have company. I’ll get some cookies and cocoa.” Ida jumped up from her chair, and Kringle followed her to the kitchen.
The front door swung open, and Ethan strode in, his eyes finding Ginger immediately. His urgency stirred a flutter of self-consciousness in her. Had she left something at the cabin? Was there another problem with the trees?
“Ethan,” she began, but he was already at her side, his breath labored from his rush.
“Ginger, there was no need for you to move out,” he said, his voice carrying a raw honesty that had her heart hammering in her chest.
“I just thought, with me on crutches and messing things up with the mayor…”
He shook his head, taking her hand in his, his gaze intense. “I don’t care about the mayor or the trees. They’re not important. You are.”
His confession hung in the air. That moment felt both fleeting and endless, a lifetime in the span of a heartbeat. She had just enough time to see the sincerity in his eyes. Ginger was stunned.
She opened her mouth to say something—she wasn’t even sure what—but before she could get a word out, the front door crashed open. Dorothy stumbled in, her arms loaded with balsam pine branches, her entrance jolting them out of their moment, yet leaving behind the echo of a promise.
“Take a gander at these!” Dorothy barreled into the room, her arms loaded with fragrant balsam pine branches. With a whoosh of energy, she deposited the armful on Ginger’s lap.
Ginger’s eyes widened at the sight, her fingers tracing the branches gingerly. Ethan, who had been standing silently, watched with interest, his gaze softening at Ginger’s evident excitement.
Dorothy, just noticing Ethan’s presence, stammered a belated greeting. “Oh, hi, Ethan.” Her gaze bounced between Ginger and Ethan. She frowned. “I didn’t interrupt something, did I?”
Ginger dismissed the implied interruption with an excited wave of her hand, her attention fixed on the branches. “These look fantastic. Are all the trees like this now, Dorothy?”
Dorothy nodded. “I checked almost all of them at the farm.”
Ethan leaned closer to get a better look, his shoulder brushing against Ginger’s. She pointed out the telltale signs of healing. There was a remnant of the fungus, but a simple swipe of her finger cleaned it right off. The energy in the room shifted; a spark of hope ignited.
“See? It wipes away. We might just have a chance!” Ginger’s voice echoed with excitement.
“A chance for what?” Ida came in with a tray of cookies and four mugs of cocoa.
“Ginger’s serums worked on the trees!” Dorothy showed Ida excitedly.
“Well now, that is exciting.” Ida handed mugs and cookies around.
“I knew you could do it!” Ethan looked adoringly at Ginger.
