Page 74 of The Forever Christmas Tree

A dozen motorcycles driven by an Outer Banks Harley club followed, revving their engines. Some of the tattoos that adorned these bad boys, the men, not the bikes, would make the Grinch blush.

Another high school band, accompanied by their twirling unit, all in elf outfits, performed “Let It Snow.” Next came the Bell Cove Boy Scout and Girl Scout troops. Our Lady by the Sea’s combined vocal and bell choirs provided more music.

Then, there was a flatbed truck with a banner reading “Bell Cove First Annual Grinch Contest,” featuring an empty throne (one of the altar chairs from Our Lady by the Sea) with a garish gold crown on its seat, a dismal Rutledge Tree (or perhaps it was supposed to be a Charlie Brown–type evergreen) with a lone star and a few scraps of tinsel, and standing on either side of the truck were some of the top contenders for the prize, wearing poster boards about their necks. At their feet were large kettles for folks to toss coins as votes as they passed by. Everyone was laughing and shouting out comments, including the contestants, who were being good sports about the whole thing.

Frank Baxter’s sign read, “What? Me? Grinchy? Only Smiles at Hard Knocks Hardware Store.” He was dressed like a grinch, right down to his green skin, a la Francine, like Laura, Wendy surmised.

Gabe Conti, whose face was flushed with embarrassment, not green face paint, wore a sign that said, “I love bells! Honest!”

There were several others as well, including Ethan, to Wendy’s surprise. His message was: “I’m Not Moving!”

Everyone was laughing.

When Ethan saw her, he winked, and shrugged as if to say, “How could I refuse?”

She loved that he would do this for his town, and probably his daughter, and have enough self-confidence to take the ribbing from the crowd.

Would I be in this parade if I lived here? Probably. On a Rutledge Tree Farm entry, or a grinch contestant float, or a Patterson Dance Club demonstration? That is the question. Where do I fit in anymore?

Another band went by and then the grand finale float with Santa on his sleigh with two life-size fake reindeer. Another contribution from Gabe’s ancestor? she wondered. Red-and-green cellophane-covered popcorn balls were tossed to children along the way. JAM caught one and handed it to her.

The crowds thinned out then, some going off for last-minute shopping, some to late lunches or early dinner, some to go home and rest before tonight’s Grinch Ball, the dance to be held at the Conti mansion.

Tomorrow night was Christmas Eve with Midnight Mass. Then Christmas Day with the open house. Time was moving so fast. Wendy felt a bit of panic realizing her trip back home was already winding down.

What would happen with this rediscovered love for Ethan when she was back in California? Would it fade away like some vacation romance . . . great while it lasted, but soon forgotten? Or was this the forever kind of love she’d once thought it to be? If that was the case, how would she survive this time?

When she got back to the house, Wendy made a trip up to the cedar closet in the attic to see if she could find something to wear to the dance that night. The Pattersons were Scottish and therefore thrifty. In other words, they saved everything. What modern people called hoarders, but she preferred to identify as selective savers.

She found what she was looking for almost immediately. Her mother’s 1980s prom gown. It was a cocktail-length concoction of rose-colored, silk organza. Strapless, except for thin spaghetti straps if she chose to use them. An empire waistline under the pleated bodice with a rhinestone belt accent. And layers upon layers of the sheer rose fabric in a petal fashion. She could wear her strappy silver high heels with the dress. And maybe Grandma Patterson’s silver cameo necklace. That’s all. Any more accessorizing would be too much for the fancy outfit.

Was it too high-schoolish?

Maybe.

She didn’t care.

Diane had followed Wendy upstairs and she oohed and aahed over what she called a vintage paradise. Wendy lent Diane a 1950s era, green lamé sheath, with a conservative knee length and a modest cowl neckline, but with a plunging back down to the waist. Wendy had no idea who this dress had belonged to. She would have to ask Aunt Mildred. The color was certainly appropriate for the holiday.

The guys—JAM, and Geek, and K-4—even borrowed some of her father’s old sport coats. Her father had been a big man, and some jackets never went out of style, or else they came back periodically. Even if they were worn over jeans or casual pants.

When Wendy was dressed for her date, she modeled her attire for her aunt, as well as for Gloria and Claudette.

“It’s chilly tonight, honey. I swear, the temperature dropped ten points in the last hour alone,” her aunt pointed out. “You’ll need to wear a coat, which is a shame, covering up such a pretty dress.”

“Wait. Ah have just the thing,” Claudette said, rushing away. She came back with a spider-fine, knitted shawl of cream cashmere, which was light but warm at the same time. “Ah wore this at mah debutante ball many years ago. It used to be pure white, but has aged into a nice color, don’t you think?”

“It’s beautiful. Thank you so much,” Wendy said, hugging the Southern lady who was so secretive about her past. A debutante, huh?

Claudette’s eyes misted over with emotion after Wendy’s hug, and she turned away.

Not to be outdone, Gloria lent her a pair of platinum bangle bracelets in a blue Tiffany box. “They were a gift from my husband on our fiftieth anniversary, just before he died.”

“Oh, I couldn’t . . .” Wendy tried to hand the bracelets back.

“No, dear, I want you to wear them. It will be almost like I’m there.”

Gloria also had weepy eyes after Wendy hugged her.