Page 24 of The Forever Christmas Tree

At least she was off the subject of closure. “That doesn’t bode well for our committee meeting with him this afternoon.”

“I wondered why you were wearing a shirt and tie.”

He figured it was the least he could do to make an impression, though his appearance wouldn’t matter diddly-squat to a big shot like Gabriel Conti, who thought quality bells could be bought at Walmart. The Durham architectural firm he was a partner in was in the media all the time for the famous buildings it designed around the world. Gabe probably forgot they’d even met as teenagers. “We were supposed to get together last week, but he canceled at the last minute. I heard he met with the real estate developer, though.”

“It’ll be a cryin’ shame if they close the factory down.”

“We’re trying our best.”

“If bells aren’t selling, it’s too bad they can’t find another business to take over.”

“If Conti would give us time, we might be able to lure a suitable enterprise here.”

“Maybe that’s what the excess money from the grinch contest could be used for. A Bell Cove Development Authority or whatever you call those committees that try to entice businesses into their communities with tax incentives and stuff.”

He just gaped at his grandmother. What does she know about development authorities? And another committee? Not for me! And just how much damn money does she think this crazy contest is going to make? Instead of snapping at her, like he was inclined to do, he said, “It’s hard to attract new business, with Bell Cove being so inaccessible.”

“Bell Forge managed with barges off that back dock harbor.”

“Pfff! Have you seen that thing lately? The wood is rotted out and would crumble under the weight of a two-ton church bell.”

“It could be rebuilt,” she started to say, then, at his scowl of disbelief, she added, “by a motivated buyer.”

“And where would we find one of those?” he scoffed.

She shrugged. “Maybe it’s time for a Christmas miracle.”

He laughed. “Yeah, that’s what I’m gonna be praying for . . . a miracle of the bells.” He was kidding, of course, but the light in his grandmother’s eyes—the same blue as everyone’s in the Rutledge family, including his and Cassie’s—made him regret his hasty words.

Especially when she said, “Hmmm.”

He knew, he just knew, that not only was this town going bonkers over a grinch contest, but they would now be praying for a bell miracle.

Personally, Ethan was praying he could make it through the holiday this year. A Wendy kind of love. The words kept drumming in his head. He reacted the only way he could, by muttering, “Bah! Humbug!”

“What did you say?” his grandmother asked.

“I said, ‘Merry Christmas! It’s off to work I go. Ho, ho, ho!’”

“I think you’ve got elves and dwarves mixed up.”

That wasn’t the only thing he was mixed up about.

Fancy meeting you here, Mister Crab . . .

Wendy spent the next morning with Aunt Mildred finalizing sleeping arrangements for her friends who should be arriving that afternoon. A cleaning lady, Sally Davis, came in once a week to help her aunt, but the third floor hadn’t been touched in years.

Sally was up there now mopping the old oak floors to a high sheen with Murphy Oil Soap, the not unpleasant scent of which drifted all the way down to the kitchen where it warred with the delicious aroma of homemade marinara sauce. Wendy and her aunt were in the laundry room folding the third batch of bed linens and towels. If the weather was warmer, the sheets would be hanging outside on the clothesline, and the doors would be open to the bay breeze, adding yet another scent to the air.

Elmer was making lasagna for dinner with tomatoes canned from his own garden, taken over recently by the new owners of his home which had been sold out from under him by an unscrupulous family member. The issue was currently slogging through the mud of the state court system. He was being aided by Harry, whose wheelchair fit perfectly under the low island where he was chopping onions, mushrooms, and garlic. Gloria was perched on a stool—no need for the walker today, apparently—making an arrangement of holly, pinecones, and a fat clove candle for the dining room where they would be eating that night, with all the extensions added to the table for the first time in years.

Wendy could hear some jaunty Christmas music coming from the front parlor where Raul was apparently teaching Claudette how to do the Carolina Shag to “Jingle Bell Rock,” while the New Orleans native was showing him how to shake a leg with a Cajun Two-Step. How they were doing that with the rug down, she wasn’t sure. Maybe they were out in the hall.

It was organized chaos, which Wendy didn’t yet understand. For now, she was more concerned with the logistics of having anywhere from ten to fifteen people residing in this house for the holidays.

With Gloria in her mother’s sewing/sickroom and Harry next door in her father’s office made into a temporary bedroom, it meant that her aunt and Raul shared one of the five bedrooms on the second floor, she was in her old room, and Diane in the second guest room, which was separated by a Jack ’n Jill bathroom. The new arrival, Claudette, had been using the second guest room, but would be sleeping on a pull-out sofa downstairs with Gloria for the time being. Elmer occupied the first guest room on the second floor. The old master bedroom hadn’t been used since her father died, but Wendy wasn’t so sentimental that she would mind one of her SEAL friends using it. A change of linens and quick dusting was all that was needed there. If Delphine should show up, she could take one of the twin beds in Diane’s room.

In addition to the small shared bathroom, there was also a large bathroom on this floor with an old-fashioned claw-foot tub, alongside a more modern shower stall put in when Wendy was a kid. The first floor had a half bath. Wendy wasn’t sure how that worked for the handicapped two down there, and she wasn’t asking. There was also a full bath on the third floor, with two bedrooms, once intended for servants, and a large school/playroom.