Page 21 of The Forever Christmas Tree

“So, you invited her to move in here with you.”

“Yes. A temporary arrangement. Later, she married the new vicar of St. Pete’s over in Nags Head. In fact, lots of my housemates have found love while living here. Which of course has caused some of the busybodies in this town to think we have shady doings going on here.” She arched her brows at Wendy as if wondering if she’d heard those rumors.

Wendy admitted nothing. “How many housemates have you had over these two years?”

“About fifteen, but never more than three or four at once, and usually they leave in a few months. I do apologize for there being so many here now. Gloria was supposed to go into one of those assisted-living places, but there was no room available at the last minute. And Harry—poor soul—should be at his son’s place in Seattle for the holidays, but the ungrateful boy decided to spend Christmas skiing in Aspen with his family. They didn’t invite Harry to accompany them, not that he would have wanted to go, being in a wheelchair and all.

“Claudette is our latest addition. I don’t know a lot about her background, just that she arrived in town in the fall, driving a fancy old car with Louisiana plates. It’s parked over at Gus’s garage because we don’t have room here. It’s a big 1960s Mercedes convertible that Raul says is worth about fifty thousand dollars. She was staying at the Bell Breakers Motel for more than a month when it closed for the season. Then, three days ago, she showed up here, asking if we had room. As long as she blends in, I figure she’s all right.” Her aunt looked to her for approval. Which she did not need.

“How do you manage the sleeping arrangements? The stairs must be an issue for some of them, like Mr. Carder in his wheelchair.”

“Actually, it’s not a problem. Gloria is in your mother’s sickroom converted to a guest room on this floor, for when her legs are weak. Most often, she’s okay with walking unaided. Plus, I’ve pushed some of the furniture in your daddy’s office to one side and installed a cot for Harry. Eventually, he’ll move in with his son, I’m sure. But don’t worry, I haven’t gotten rid of any of Alan’s medical things. I’ve left them there for you.”

“I really should clear out those rooms.”

“Your father wanted everything to stay the same until you came back and . . .” Aunt Mildred fumbled for the right words, then raised her chin and finished, “. . . and took over his practice.”

“Oh, Aunt Mil, it’s too late for that.”

“It’s never too late,” her aunt protested. “It was always your dream. Do you like being in WEALS as much as you would being a doctor? I mean, do you intend to stay in the Navy forever?”

“Probably not, but, even with my four years of pre-med, it would mean another six years at least of medical school and internships and residencies. I’m thirty years old.”

“Thirty years young,” her aunt insisted. “If you really want it, you could still do it.”

She was right. And Wendy was getting burned out by some of the missions she’d been on lately. As recently as last week, she’d been considering a change. But medicine? “No, medicine is no longer an option for me. Besides, I like what I’m doing, and I’m good at it, Aunt Mil. Really good. My current contract is up in June, at which time I will probably re-up for at least another year or two. Whatever I decide to do in the future, it will probably be related to the skills I’ve learned in the Navy.”

“But you always wanted . . . if it were not for . . . oh, sweetheart, I hate that all your dreams were ruined.”

Wendy shook her head. “Don’t feel bad, Aunt Mil. I’ve come to realize that medicine was just a girlhood dream, one I fell into, more to please Daddy than myself. Of all the regrets in my life, that isn’t one of them.”

“You mean, like, one door closed, another door opened?”

“In a way.” Feeling the need to change the subject, Wendy said, “Back to your housemates . . . how about Raul? Where does he fit into this mix you’ve described?”

“Forefront,” Aunt Mildred said without hesitation, but blushing. “I’ve only known him for a few months, but he’s added so much to my life . . . to many of the lives around here. He has a joy of life that’s infectious. In his love of dancing, but in so many other ways, too. He’s working on a book that will probably take him back to Spain sooner than later, but in the meantime . . .” She shrugged. “I’m enjoying myself.”

“Go you!” Wendy said. “Wish I could say the same.”

“Oh, sweetie, I had hoped that you’d found someone special by now. Is it . . .” She paused, as if hesitant to say what was on her mind. “Is it still Ethan?”

“Definitely not,” Wendy said, probably too quickly, “but the scars run deep.” She was the one who hesitated now before revealing, “I met him on the ferry this afternoon.”

“You did? Yikes! That must have been a shock for you, after all these years of avoiding any mention of him.”

“It was, and it would seem I’ve missed some important details by insisting on that rule. Poor Dad. I can’t tell you how many times he seemed to bite his tongue for fear of saying the wrong thing.”

“Like what?”

“Like Beth Anne having died.”

“Yes. Very sad,” her aunt said.

“What happened?”

“MS. They discovered she had it while she was pregnant, and it just got progressively worse after that.”

“Oh, my God! And her daughter? Does she have the same thing? I wondered about the little girl in the wheelchair, but I never suspected anything like this.”