Page 8 of The Forever Christmas Tree

“I haven’t had time.”

“Make time. That daughter of yours needs a mommy. Beth Anne has been gone for three years now. You’re starting to act like an old man.”

“Oh, good Lord! This is a council meeting. Not Bell Cove Matchmakers,” he protested.

“Forget about it, Doreen,” Abe said. “I fixed him up with my niece, a very nice schoolteacher who was visiting here last month, and he canceled at the last minute.”

“I had the flu.”

“A likely story,” Tony, whom he had considered a friend, up till now, inserted with a grin. “Women are all over him, like Sunday sauce on homemade pasta, when he stops by the bar, and he ignores them all.”

“Maybe he’s turned . . .” Baxter started to say.

“That will be enough,” Doreen said before her suitor said what they all knew he was about to say and Ethan jumped over the table to knock the smirk off Baxter’s face. “My point, Ethan, was that we’re all busy. Besides, you have as much, if not more, to lose than any of us with all that acreage devoted to your island tree farm. You know darn well the vultures will be salivating over the prospects of forcing you out. A perfect place for a strip mall, I’m guessing.” She paused when Baxter raised his hand and said, “No, Frank, you are not serving on the damn committee. That would defeat the whole purpose.”

“There are a lot of folks in this town who’d agree with me,” Baxter argued, but then, realizing the hole he was digging, romance-wise, added, “Not that I don’t value your opinion, Reenie. You’re the most—”

“Stuff it, Frank,” Doreen said.

“I’ll serve on the damn committee, but I’m not heading it,” Ethan agreed grudgingly.

“How about you, Tony? You would get along with Mr. Conti really well,” Doreen suggested.

“Why? Because we’re both Italian?”

“Oh, please. Talk about thin skin!” Doreen said. Tony had developed a sore spot regarding ethnicity ever since that reality show, The Mob, became popular. “I meant, because you’re both graduates of Duke University.”

“Oh. All right. Dammit.”

“I’ll serve on the committee, too,” Laura said, which surprised Ethan, but then she probably figured she’d get a news story out of it. “Listen, folks, we’re forgetting something here. Bell Forge is the cornerstone of this town. It was founded by the Conti brothers when they immigrated here in 1902. I know because I looked it up this morning. They were fine craftsmen who were known throughout the world for their bells. In its heyday Bell Forge produced bells for some of the most renowned cathedrals and clock towers. Orchestras would settle only for Conti bells for their choirs.

“Are we really going to let that heritage go? I think we need to think about ways to keep the bell factory, not retrofit it for some other purpose, and definitely not tear it down to turn this town into yet another Myrtle Beach.”

Ethan felt a twinge of guilt then at having questioned Laura’s motives for volunteering to be on the committee.

“Good thinking,” Doreen praised Laura. “Okay, so, Tony, Ethan, and Laura will serve on that committee and will call on any of the rest of us, if need be. Is that settled?”

They all nodded. Ethan grumbled.

“Moving on,” Doreen said. “The Christmas street lighting in this town is now a clear and present danger. Matthew couldn’t be here tonight, but he asked me to convey how dangerous the situation is. We’re a lawsuit waiting to happen.”

The Matthew that Doreen referred to was Matt Holter, Ethan’s best friend and the town’s attorney/treasurer. It was Matt who’d volunteered him to serve on the town council, initially. Ethan was always reminding his pal that he owed him. Now, more than ever.

“I don’t even have a light in front of my store anymore,” Baxter complained.

“And the one on my corner keeps flickering on and off,” Jeremy said.

“The things are almost a hundred years old. What do you expect?” Doreen said. “The state inspector gave a report yesterday. The entire street lighting system needs to be overhauled, but the immediate concern is the Christmas lighting, which must be fixed, or shut down.”

“What? At this time of year? Does that mean no Christmas tree lighting on the square, either?” Laura asked, appalled. “What about the Christmas Eve Carol Walk? What about the church concerts? And the Festival of the Bells?”

“Exactly,” Doreen said dolefully.

“How much?” Ethan asked.

“Twenty-five thousand dollars. Initially.”

Silence followed, because they all knew there wasn’t an extra twenty-five thousand in their treasury, not since the sewer project that was completed last summer.