Page 34 of The Forever Christmas Tree

“Gabe, long time, no see,” Ethan said, walking forward with an extended hand.

They shook, and Gabe said, “Ethan, how you been? Holy crap, it must be fifteen years since I saw you last. It was that summer we sailed till our skin blistered from so much sun.”

“Yeah, as I recall, you were trying to impress Rita Dorset, the lifeguard over at the golf club.”

“And you had eyes only for some girl named Winnie.”

Ethan didn’t bother to tell Gabe that it had been Wendy, not Winnie. “Hey, my sympathies on your grandfather’s death. I would have attended the funeral, but my daughter was having some medical issues at the time.”

“You have a daughter?” Gabe smiled, as if that were some great achievement.

It was. To him. “I do,” he said. “How about you? Married? A family?”

“No, and no.”

“We’ll have to get together and catch up sometime soon. In the meantime . . .” Ethan motioned for Laura and Tony to join them. “This is Gabriel Conti, whose great-great-grandfather and his brothers built this place.”

“That would be three greats,” Gabe corrected with a smile. “Great-great-great-grandfather Salvadore Conti.”

“Right,” Ethan said. “And, Gabe, this is Laura Atler, editor of The Bell, the local newspaper, and Tony Bonfatto, owner of the Cracked Crab restaurant.”

They all shook hands and remarked on the weather, which was getting colder by the hour with an overcast sky. They might very well get a dusting of snow tonight.

It was clear by the way Gabe was staring at Laura, and she was stealing looks at him, that there was an instant attraction going on. Much to Tony’s chagrin.

Ethan couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt that way on first meeting a woman. Well, unless you counted a woman you’d met again after a dozen-years-long separation.

I am not going there!

“I noticed you looking over the building as we drove up,” Laura remarked.

“Yeah. It’s a beauty, isn’t it? They just don’t go to this kind of trouble with factories today.”

Gabe would know, being an architect, but as a layman, Ethan could appreciate its aesthetics, too. The simple, utilitarian brick of the long, rectangular structure was softened by the gleam of old copper on the flat portion at the top of the pitched slate roof. Not to mention the leaded windows and the double doors of the entry, which were unusual arch shapes with carved wood surrounds.

“And it’s still basically sound, too. Imagine the abuse it’s taken over the past hundred years . . . wind, salt, water, storms.”

Like Ethan’s tree that just went on forever. Still standing after all this time.

Hmmm. Is it a promising sign that Gabe admires the structure?

Laura must have thought the same thing because she said, “Sounds like you don’t want to see this family heirloom torn down.”

Gabe laughed. “Family heirloom? I wouldn’t go that far. More like a family albatross. I take it you’ve read the article in the Durham paper. But wait. Ethan said you’re with the local paper. Are you the newshound responsible for that contest naming me some kind of grinch monster? My mother heard about it all the way in Italy.”

Laura blushed.

Now there was a sight, Ethan thought. Laura Atler embarrassed! She could sling arrows of sarcasm at him like a trooper, but be taken down by a mere zinger from a stranger.

Coming to her defense, like an Italian stallion warrior knight, was Tony, who said, “Laura isn’t the only one responsible. The whole town council voted to have the contest. It’s all in fun.”

Ethan would have liked to say that he never voted for any contest, and it was debatable about the fun of it, but he didn’t want to make Tony look bad.

Gabe turned to Ethan and grinned. “I hear you’re right up there near the top in terms of grinchiness. Wonder how much it would cost to put you firmly over the top?”

“Don’t you dare. Keep in mind, I might have a little extra cash handy, too, for a good cause.” Ethan pretended to give Gabe a devious look.

“Hey, hey, hey! The rules of this contest bar any ballot stuffing,” Laura said.