Page 87 of The Forever Christmas Tree

Claudette and Harry were sitting at the kitchen table making small sandwiches of party rye with paper-thin slices of ham, Swiss cheese, and stone-ground mustard, and crustless sourdough mini rounds with rare roast beef and horseradish sauce. Elmer had boiled up a pile of shrimp yesterday, not wanting to smell up the house today, and he was peeling them by the sink and placing them on a platter with a small bowl of his special homemade dipping sauce. K-4 was preparing some bacon-wrapped jalapeños from his late wife’s family recipe, which he warned were not for the faint of heart, or tongue.

And Mike and Ike had surprised them all by going down to The Deli early this morning where the owner, Abe Bernstein, son of an old pal of theirs, opened the doors to them and allowed them to purchase, “at a bargain price,” the remainder of the caviar he’d brought in as a new offering to lure in tourists. The caviar would be served over cracked ice with toast points and chopped red onions and lemon wedges for garnish.

And of course there would be an array of Aunt Mildred’s Christmas cookies. And ginger chai tea for those who requested it.

A veritable finger feast!

The nice part was that everyone had a job, even Geek, who claimed his only talent regarding food was eating it. He was bringing in logs, having been relegated to “keeper of the fire.” There was a feeling of family amongst them.

And the whole holiday festive spirit thing was helped by the snowflakes that could be seen coming down outside, sort of an omen of good cheer. A rare Outer Banks Christmas snow was always appreciated as one of the Lord’s small blessings.

Raul’s daughter, Bonita Arias, came early, but she was considered extended “family” and welcomed by everyone. And I mean everyone, Wendy thought, but not in a mean way, as she looked over Raul’s thirty-something daughter who was an absolute stunner, with long, silky black hair, a svelte body in a figure-hugging red sheath dress that was demure at the neck and sleeves, but cut off midway to yee-haw in the back, with killer high heels, which were also red, and, get this, seamed black stockings.

“Who wears stockings today, let alone ones with seams? I wouldn’t be surprised if she has a garter belt, too,” Diane whispered at Wendy’s side.

Wendy was pretty sure that Diane would be making some purchases on the Internet later today.

Anyhow, it was hard not to admire Bonita, and not just because of her appearance. She was intelligent, as evidenced by her talking to the guys about her experiences as an oceanographer, who sometimes consulted for ship-salvaging companies. And she had a warm personality, which she extended to all of them, not just to the guys, and not just to the younger people. She was especially kind to Aunt Mildred, her father’s “girlfriend,” which earned her many points in Wendy’s book.

For a brief moment, Wendy wondered if Ethan had ever met Bonita. If he hadn’t, would he be drawn in like all the others when he arrived today? She decided to go upstairs and change her clothes and put on some makeup. So did Diane.

It had nothing to do with Bonita.

Nothing.

Really.

The open house was a huge success and some of the folks stayed longer than four p.m., even though it was Christmas Day and they should be wanting to have their own holiday activities. They were having so much fun.

Midway through the afternoon, Eliza Rutledge arrived. Alone. It turned out that Cassie was having a bad day, and Ethan needed to stay with her.

“Oh, that’s too bad. Is it serious?”

“We just think it’s a reaction to being on her feet too much the last two days with the parade and everything. Her hip can only take so much stress before it screams for a rest. Plus, she might be coming down with a cold.”

“Doctor Hale is here, if you need him to go check her over.”

“Nice to know, but we’ll wait and see.”

“I have a couple little gifts for Cassie. Can you take them home for her?” Aside from the little blue sweater with silver snowflakes that Wendy had purchased earlier, she’d also put together a basket with a box of ginger chai tea, a bear squirt bottle of honey, and a tea set she’d found in an antiques shop on the square, composed of two delicate cups and saucers and a plate, all imprinted with handpainted pink roses. And a dozen raspberry shortbread cookies, of course, thanks to Aunt Mil.

“Definitely.”

By six o’clock everything was cleaned up, and they were all relaxing, mostly in the living room by the tree, where Bing Crosby was crooning something appropriate about a white Christmas in the background. Bonita was still here and was sitting in the dining room with Geek and K-4 and JAM looking over the treasure maps.

They would all be sitting down to Elmer’s turkey feast at seven, but this was a brief respite before anyone had to get up. Despite all the food they’d prepared, and the masses of offerings that their guests had brought, most of it was gone, and ironically those residing here had eaten little if any of it, being too busy serving and circulating. They were all starved, salivating over the luscious smells in the air.

Aunt Mildred, sitting close to Wendy on the sofa, with their shoeless feet propped on the coffee table, said, “While we have a quiet moment, I wanted to say something to you, honey.”

“Oh?”

“When you go back to California, if you would rather I not have all these people staying here in your house . . . well, I’m perfectly willing to evict them. Oh, not evict evict, but you know what I mean. It’s your house, after all.”

Wendy put an arm around her aunt’s shoulder and hugged her closer. “Aunt Mil, how can you even ask that? What a joy all your friends are! You—all of you—have made this the best Christmas holiday for me and my friends, and, believe me, we needed this.” She got a bit choked up and had to clear her throat. “Anyhow, as long as you want, or are capable of doing all the extra work, do whatever you want here.”

“You’re not going to sell the house, then?”

“Not right now.”