Page 86 of The Forever Christmas Tree

“Maybe. But there is a ‘Wendy kind of love.’”

“Actually, Nana, there is not.” And that was his final word on the subject.

The party’s over . . .

It was another wildly hectic day at the Patterson house.

The morning started out slow with practical efficiency. No big breakfast. Just muffins and coffee. Elmer stuffed his turkeys and set them aside to put in the oven after all the open house food prep was done. No one was going to church, though some of them would have under normal circumstances.

They opened some gifts, especially ones for Gloria who would be leaving that day. Gloria seemed to be cognizant for the most part. She thanked Aunt Mildred profusely for the book entitled The Camel Bookmobile, about an American librarian who moves to Africa where she finds a unique method for getting books to remote villagers. Then, while she recognized the framed picture that Elmer gave her of the Bell Cove Library, she didn’t seem to associate it with herself in any work capacity. Until she suddenly wagged a forefinger at Wendy and said, “When are you going to marry that Rutledge boy and put him out of his misery?”

“What?” Wendy exclaimed.

“Well, I suppose you have to wait until after graduation, but, good heavens, girl, I’m tired of chasing you two out of the stacks on the second floor.” She grinned as if she’d been aware all along of their shenanigans. When she saw her Navy SEALs sweatshirt, she frowned and glanced around, as if someone was crazy, and it wasn’t her.

Gloria’s daughter, Sue Ann, arrived earlier than they expected, and, thankfully, Gloria recognized her. Although she’d grown up in Bell Cove, Sue Ann was older than Wendy; so, introductions had to be made, all around. Gloria was a little puzzled about why she was going to her daughter’s home, and no mention was made of her move to a nursing home tomorrow. Best not to confuse her with too many new things, everyone decided.

There was much hugging and promises to write amongst all the seniors while they loaded the car and it drove off. With tears in their eyes, Aunt Mildred and Claudette began setting up the dining room table with a lace tablecloth, silverware, and serving dishes for a buffet, even though it was supposed to be mainly finger foods. Wendy had suggested buying some quality paper products, but her aunt had looked at her with horror. Not for a Patterson Christmas Open House!

Claudette went off when Harry called for her to help him with something in the kitchen.

“What can I do?” Wendy asked.

“Get out the punch bowl and cups and set them on the kitchen island. You can pour one gallon of the punch that’s in the garage fridge, but don’t put in the ice cubes until just before the guests begin to arrive. Make sure you use the star-shaped ice cubes with the cranberries inside.”

“Do you have a non-alcoholic version?”

“Yes. It’s in the containers marked with a big red X. Put that on the dining room table to distinguish from the boozy one. Grandma Patterson’s second-best punch bowl set is in the hutch.”

“Okay. Maybe we should put placards next to each of them, just to make sure.”

“Good idea, honey.”

Raul came up and asked about setting up a music playlist for the afternoon.

“Make sure it’s Christmas music,” Aunt Mildred, the commander of this operation, ordered. “No dance music.”

“Can’t it be both?” Raul grumbled, but then he winked at Wendy and said in an overloud whisper, “Don’t you love when your aunt gets all . . . what you say . . . bossy? Gets my Latin blood boiling.”

“Oh, you!” Aunt Mildred said and blew a kiss at him as he walked away with a little dance step.

Wendy and Diane, who had just brought in trays of assorted crackers and gourmet cheeses, exchanged glances of amusement.

“Nice to know we have something to look forward to when we’re old,” Diane remarked.

“If we’re lucky!” Wendy said.

“Are you saying I’m old?” Aunt Mildred protested.

The house phone rang and Aunt Mildred rushed off to answer it.

When Wendy began to set up the punch bowl on the kitchen island, she noticed that JAM was mixing a batch of his Santa’s Wild-Ass Elf cocktails, which involved, among other things, peppermint schnapps, shaved dark chocolate, and vodka. A dozen stemmed glasses sat next to his pitcher, each with a mini candy cane hanging over the side. “Wanna taste?” he asked.

“At eleven thirty?” She glanced pointedly at her watch, then grinned. “Why not?”

He poured a small amount in two glasses and topped them with a sprig of mint for color. After tasting his, he added another dollop of vodka to the mix. She sipped hers and said, “Wow! You make a great Wild-Ass Elf.”

“Aw, shucks, Flip, that’s what all the girls say.”