Page 49 of The Forever Christmas Tree

I’d like to, he thought, but that wasn’t what Laura meant, of course. “I don’t know. I’m not much for social drinking.”

“That was a long time ago, Ethan. Get over it!”

“I wasn’t referring to that.”

“Everyone will be there. Don’t you want to see what the inside of that mansion looks like now? The bathroom with the gold-plated taps in itself is worth a look-see. Plus, it’s another chance to work with Gabe and maybe influence the fate of Bell Forge.”

He knew now how Laura had convinced Gabe. She wore a person down.

Still, he resisted.

Until she tossed in the final zinger.

“Wendy will be there.”

It wasn’t surprising what phrase went through his mind then.

Christmas visitors are the best kind . . .

Cassie paid Eddie Van Hoy, the cab driver, six dollars and fifty cents, including a tip, for her fare, then hitched her backpack over one arm and carried her crutches in the other, before turning to the rough brick sidewalk leading to the Patterson house. Eddie, who also delivered groceries for the Shop-a-Lot and prescriptions for the pharmacy, watched her till she got to the door, as she’d known he would, him being a nice old man, a friend of her grandmother’s. She waved that she was all right, and he could leave.

Propping her crutches beside the door, Cassie rang the doorbell. She loved that every house in Bell Cove had a different sounding chime. This one went bing-bing-bing, bing-bing-bing, bing-bing-bing. Theirs at home sounded more like ba-dinnnng, ba-dinnnng, ba-dinnnng. Her friend Marsha’s was the coolest of all: bong, bong, bong!

The door opened almost immediately, and Cassie was assaulted by the sound of loud music and the smell of fresh-baked cookies or cake, something buttery and sweet. Cassie recognized the woman standing before her from the ferry a few days ago. It was Wendy Patterson.

She was shoeless, wearing white socks, gray yoga tights, and a Winnie the Pooh sweatshirt that said, “A bear, however hard he tries, grows tubby without exercise.”

Cassie smiled. Winnie the Pooh was her favorite storybook character. “You’re Wendy Patterson, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am. And you’re Cassandra Rutledge, aren’t you? Can I help you? Did you come to see my aunt?”

Cassie shook her head. “I came to see you, Miss Patterson.”

Wendy blinked with surprise. “Well, come in, then. And you can call me Wendy. Miss Patterson makes me sound old.” She made a funny face that sucked in her cheeks and puckered her forehead.

Cassie laughed and stepped inside where a lot of old people—some really old like her great-grandmother, and others as old as her father and Wendy here—were sitting around by the Christmas tree or in front of the fireplace where a huge fire was blazing. A couple were playing cards. There was even dancing at the one end, to “Survivor,” of all things. Who knew that old folks listened to Beyoncé, let alone knew the moves?

“Aunt Mil, we have a visitor,” Wendy said to an older woman who was coming from the kitchen, which could be seen at the end of the long hallway. Cassie remembered Miss Patterson, who had been the music teacher at her elementary school until she retired when Cassie had been in first grade. She wore a white ruffled apron over a red sweater and red plaid pants.

“Cassie! How nice of you to come visit! Is your grandmother with you?”

She shook her head.

“Your father?”

“No. I came alone, Miss Patterson. In a taxi.”

The older Miss Patterson exchanged a look with Wendy, then said to Cassie, “Come along to the kitchen, honey. We’re just about to have a cup of ginger chai tea with cookies. And you can call me Aunt Mil, just like Wendy and her friends do.”

So, two people who didn’t want her to call them “Miss,” a sign of respect Nana had drummed into her. Cassie stored that knowledge away to think about later.

In the meantime, no one had ever offered Cassie a cup of tea before, let alone tie tea, whatever that was, and it made her feel grown-up, and that maybe she wouldn’t get in trouble for coming here, without permission.

Wendy helped her off with her coat, but Cassie held on to her backpack as she braced her crutches against the wall.

“Don’t you need those?” Wendy asked.

“No. My dad makes me take them everywhere for Justin, but I don’t always need them.”