Page 17 of The Forever Christmas Tree

“But it’s for a good cause. The new streetlights are so pretty.”

“They’re not new, honey. Those bell lanterns have been around since I was a boy your age, since my father was a boy, in fact.”

“Well, they look new, all polished up.”

And working, Ethan had to concede.

“Nana says the extra money raised by the contest will be given to the food bank. That’s a good cause, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.”

“Then I can nominate Miss Elders?”

He laughed at the slyness of his daughter. “No way!”

Her phone beeped, indicating an incoming text message. “It’s from Nana. She says to stop for bread and milk, please.”

He nodded and pulled off the road into Gus’s Gas & Goods. Parking next to one of the pumps, he told Cassie, “Sit tight, sweetie. I’ll be right back.”

“Okay. Nana says to buy some Jujyfruits, too.”

“Nice try, kiddo.”

She just grinned at him and went back to doing whatever kids did with their phones these days. He trusted her to stay within the limits he’d set for her.

A blond giant of a man in coveralls stepped out of the building and said, “What can I do for you, buddy?” Ethan had known Karl Gustafson all his life, both of them born on the Outer Banks. Gus had gone off to play pro football a few years ago (no, not for the Vikings, though he fit the image with his sharp Nordic features, but for the Cowboys, instead). He’d soon come back, having torn up his knee one too many times. He seemed contented here, despite the trophy wife he’d picked up in Dallas having ditched him once the spotlight dimmed.

“Fill ’er up. I don’t need much. I’ll go inside for bread and milk.”

Gus’s was one of those old-time places that abhorred self-service. Windshield washing and an offer of an oil check were still de rigueur. Inside, you could buy everything from bait to butter.

While Ethan waited at the register for Gus to come back inside, Ina Rogers, the longtime secretary at Our Lady by the Sea, wheeled her walker over to him. No escaping what he knew was coming.

“You found a wife yet?”

Ina was as old as she looked, and no amount of makeup, which she’d been piling on since nineteen eighty-two, at least, would hide the wrinkles . . . or the orangish tint to her skin. Another Francine victim! She wore a green wool sweater with a huge snowman on the front. It was hard to miss the blinking carrot nose. In any case, ever since Beth Anne had died, Ina, along with every other busybody in town (and there were a lot!), had deemed it their mission in life to find him a new wife.

As if! “Not yet,” he replied as politely as possible.

“Your little girl needs a mama.”

Says who? he almost said aloud and glanced out the plate glass window to see what was holding up Gus.

Oh, hell! Gus had the hood up on his car and was checking not just the oil, but the windshield washer fluid, too.

“Us ladies in the Altar and Rosary Society said a prayer for you when we were doing an Advent novena last week. How’s that darling girl doing, by the way?”

“Cassie’s doing much better, actually. Thanks to a lot of painful work in rehab today and some new miracle drugs. I’m sure your prayers help.”

“Miracles are good,” Ina said, making a quick sign of the cross over the snowman’s head, “but it was you we were praying over. Forget that Match-Dot-Com nonsense. Matches made in heaven are the best kind.”

Oh, good Lord! And I’m not even Catholic! “That’s nice.” Time to change the subject. “Shouldn’t you be over at Mildred’s today for Tuesday Tangos, or is it Two-step Tuesday?”

He meant his question to be sarcastic, but Ina took him seriously. “No. Mildred canceled all the dance parties for this week. Her niece is coming home tomorrow, and she needs to get the house in shape.”

In other words, hide all the evidence of her senior citizen shenanigans.

But wait, Aunt Mildred had a surprise coming if she’s expecting Wendy tomorrow. He wondered if Wendy had planned a surprise arrival, or was it just accidental that she’d arrived early. Whatever! None of his business.