“She might be onto a formula that could work on the trees,” Mason said.
“Really?” Kristen’s eyes widened with hope as she brushed an auburn curl behind her ear.
Mason nodded. “She said something about how she studied the needles to figure out what nutrients they were missing then doing some calculations to figure out what elements would get those nutrients into the tree fast. Honestly, she’s such a brainiac that I really never understand exactly what she’s talking about.”
Dorothy wasn’t sure she liked the sound of that. If they didn’t understand what Ginger was doing, maybe it was a mistake to let her apply the formula to the trees. Dorothy knew the farm was in trouble, but she was worried about making things worse. The farm had been in the family for generations, and the death of her husband had put her in charge. It was up to her to make sure it remained viable for future generations. Perhaps the only one who felt that responsibility more heavily was her son, Ethan.
“I’d like to meet Ginger,” Dorothy said. “I’m not entirely sure we should try something now.”
“You’ll like her, Mom.” Kristen petted George, who was curled in her lap. He let out a soft purr, his ear flicking slightly.
“You can trust her, Dot,” Kent said. “I’ve known her since she was a little tyke, and that girl is a genius when it comes to plants. If she says that this formula has potential, then we should definitely give it a shot.”
“Besides, Mom,” Kristen added, animatedly waving a half-eaten cookie, crumbs falling onto her lap, “we don’t have much to lose by trying it out, do we?”
Dorothy trusted Kent and Kristen. Taking a slow, thoughtful sip from her steaming teacup, she nodded. “True. I guess it probably can’t hurt. Good luck getting your brother on board, though. You know how stubborn he is.”
“Stubborn? Who’s stubborn?” Ethan’s deep voice rang out from the back mudroom, as if on cue. The group fell silent as he sauntered into the warm, inviting kitchen and leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
The room seemed to hold its breath. Even George stopped purring and jumped out of Kristen’s lap.
“Cookie, dear?” Dorothy slid the plate across the table, and Ethan detached himself from the doorway and grabbed a reindeer cookie with a small red heart candy for a nose and two tiny chocolate chips for eyes.
“So I heard you met Mason’s friend Ginger earlier.” Dorothy figured that might be a good way to cautiously broach the subject with her son.
Ethan’s expression collapsed into its usual scowl, but Dorothy thought she saw a spark of interest in his dark eyes.
Kent cleared his throat nervously, while Kristen tried to hide her grin behind her cookie.
“Yeah, she was rolling around under the trees. Kind of odd, if you ask me.” Ethan ignored George, who was doing figure eights around his ankles.
Dorothy knew Ethan pretended to be immune to the cat’s charms, but she’d seen him petting the cat and talking to him when he thought no one was looking.
“She was checking out the health of the balsams. She’s trying to help with our problem,” Kristen said.
“Uh huh.” Ethan nodded.
“She thinks she has a solution,” Mason added.
“She does?” Ethan shoved the last of his cookie into his mouth.
“She’s pretty smart,” Kent chimed in.
“Did she test her solution? What tree farm? How long did it take the trees to recover?” Ethan asked.
They all looked at each other. “Umm, I think it’s specific to our trees,” Kristen said.
“So it’s risky,” Ethan grumbled.
“Maybe so, dear, but we do have a pressing issue. Unless you’re coming here to tell us that you’ve solved the problem?”
Dorothy felt a pang of guilt at the way her son’s expression darkened even further. She hadn’t meant that as a jab. She was actually hoping hehadsolved the problem. People were starting to show up at the tree lot, asking for balsams. So far John, who worked the lot, had been able to persuade them that blue spruces were much better, but that wasn’t going to last forever. Besides, the mayor wanted the tallest balsam for the tree lighting, just like her husband had donated for the past thirty years.
Ethan sighed and grumbled, “I’m trying a few things.”
Dorothy hated to see Ethan in such a state of perpetual grouchiness. He hadn’t always been that way. He’d once been happy and carefree. But the accident that had taken his wife from him had also taken his happiness. Dorothy could understand, but she also knew he was young enough to be able to move on and grab some happiness. Judging by that little spark she’d seen when she mentioned Ginger’s name, Ethan might finally be open to that. If she played her cards right, maybe she could push things so that little spark would have a chance to ignite a flame of happiness inside him again—if only he let it.
“It might not be a bad idea to try more things. Ginger is an expert and pretty smart, from what Kent says,” Dorothy said.
