Page 71 of The Forever Christmas Tree

She should have known better.

Chapter 17

Christmas magic or Christmas madness? . . .

It was a hectic Sunday for Ethan and his family, from the moment they woke up, starting with Harvey having chewed up his reindeer headgear and barfing all over the kitchen floor. Yes, Ethan had agreed to let the dog be part of the festivities and would no doubt regret it. He already did. He made a quick run to the general store for Gorilla Glue to repair the damage.

A rushed breakfast followed, in which Nana did nothing but complain. Foremost was: “Two days before Christmas! It’s practically a sacrilege that a Christmas tree farmer has no tree up yet in his own home. Deck the halls with boughs of . . . nothing.”

“I’ll bring one home today.”

“And we can decorate it tonight?” Cassie said, hopping excitedly in her chair. The girl was all hyped up, from sugar in the massive amount of syrup on her waffle, or the season itself, or a combination of both. She’d be dead on her feet by noon, or limping like crazy.

“I’m going to a dance tonight. We’ll do the tree later this afternoon,” he promised.

“What dance? The annual Bell Ball? Who are you going with?” his grandmother wanted to know.

He declined to answer, which was an answer in itself.

His grandmother didn’t even bother to hide her smirk.

After that, it was a full dress rehearsal for Cassie in the children’s bell choir at nine (which involved full-out panic when her black patent leather shoes couldn’t be found), opening the Christmas shop and tree lot for the day (many people didn’t buy their trees until the last minute, himself included, mea culpa), preparations for the first annual Christmas Grinchy Parade (Don’t ask!), making sure they had enough employees on hand while he, Nana, and Cassie attended eleven o’clock Sunday church services at St. Andrew’s (looking for Wendy in the congregation, even though he knew she’d be over at Our Lady by the Sea, if she attended at all), then lunch at the Cracked Crab (where the special of the day was Crab Who-Hash, which was amazingly delicious. Cassie had the Cindy Lou bread pudding. More sugar!).

Cassie wasn’t the only one amped up on holiday madness. Excitement was in the air in all of Bell Cove, more than usual, and the bells seemed to be ringing almost incessantly. Everywhere he looked there was something related to grinches, either the book or its characters or the contest. A sign in The Book Den window announced that How the Grinch Stole Christmas was sold out until January 12th. He noticed at least a half-dozen men in grinch costumes, including Baxter who’d also managed to dye his skin green, thanks to Francine, no doubt, and a lot of Cindy Lous and other Whoville kids. A perfectly shaped Douglas fir tree from his lot had been placed in the middle of the town square gazebo, right next to the newly installed Nativity scene.

News media vans were double parked all over the place, giving Bill Henderson a fit as he wrote out one ticket after another, which prompted a ton of grinch votes for him. From now until tonight when the grinch would be crowned at the dance, the final tabulations were being kept under wraps. The lucky so-and-so would be totally surprised.

It better not be me!

Meanwhile, all the town people were being sickeningly sweet in an obvious attempt to avoid grinch votes. Or, in their defense (but not much), maybe they were just happy to have this influx of business. A holiday cash bonanza!

Ethan fielded five cell phone calls from the mayor, three from Laura, and two from Gabe. Everyone was anxious over last-minute details related to the parade, the dance, the contest, tomorrow evening’s traditional bell walk, etc., etc., etc.

At least all this frenzy was keeping him from obsessing over Wendy too much, and how her time in Bell Cove was winding down. Soon she would be gone. Again.

He couldn’t think about that now.

Hometown hokey . . .

Wendy spent Saturday evening with her aunt Mildred and all the guests at the Patterson house. That didn’t mean that her thoughts weren’t with and about Ethan after last night at his house, then today with him and Cassie at the pool. Oh, no! It was like she had an Ethan chip embedded in her brain now, and it went off regularly, like the bells of Bell Cove.

While they played cards Saturday night, and Elmer raked in a huge $137 pot at poker, Wendy mused:

I love the man. I really do. More than I did twelve years ago, if that’s possible.

But it hurts to know there’s no longer any future for us . . . Christmas tree farmer on the Outer Banks, Navy WEALS soldier on the West Coast. A relationship doomed to failure.

Later, while some of them watched It’s a Wonderful Life on TV, Wendy’s mind wandered again:

Men have it all wrong, those men who glorify sex without commitment. Well, some women do today, as well, I suppose. But not me. Every act, every touch, not just the most intimate, has to have meaning in lovemaking, or it’s sordid. Okay, maybe not sordid, but empty. Why do I feel so empty?

In her bedroom that evening, she stared at her phone, willing it to ring. Ethan had her cell number now, or at least Cassie did. The little girl had asked Wendy to input the number into her iPhone in case she ever had a question about swimming or diving. But Ethan never called. Nor did Cassie.

I loved being with Cassie. That’s a surprise. I didn’t realize I enjoyed being around children. I haven’t been for years, not since I was a counselor at summer camps. Is it because Cassie could have been mine, or a child just like her, if I’d stuck around? No, no, no! I am not going there.

When she went for an early run on Sunday morning, she let her surroundings seep in, enveloping her in the comfort of familiar things—the turbulent waves of the Atlantic Ocean on one side, the calmer lapping of Bell Sound on the other, the bells of the churches and town hall tolling, the neighborhoods that remained almost the same, the scent of salt air, the swoop of sea birds.

This is home. Whether I sell the house and never come back, this will always be home.