The Christmas Fountain (Wishful 9)

“In-between, I guess. Mom, Dad, and one younger brother, Hale.”

“Did he follow in the family footsteps and become a doctor, too?”

“No. He resented the hell out of all the time Dad spent away from us at work. He’s a glass artist.” Chad’s tone was light, but Mary Alice sensed some resentment on his part, too. “What about you?”

“Same. Mom, Dad, little sister. Bethany’s in law school at Ole Miss.”

“Do y’all get along?”

“Oh, we fought, as sisters do. But we’re better as adults. We agree that we definitely want different things out of life. She longs for the city and the thrill of battle in court. I’m good with a small-town life. I like the continuity of generations and the lifelong friendships.”

“I find that very appealing. It’s not at all what I grew up with in Atlanta.”

She glanced up at him. “Does your family think it odd that you chose a small town?”

“Just Dad. He thinks my skills are wasted here.”

Mary Alice squeezed his hand. “I’m sure the guy whose fingers you reattached this week wouldn’t agree.”

Chad smiled and brought her hand up for a quick kiss. “And neither do I.”

Their target was more easily spotted in the apple orchard. A toy locomotive engine dangled from a branch, and nestled in the crook of the tree was a huge, stainless steel thermos. The next clue was tucked through the windows of the train. As the temperatures were starting to drop along with the sun, Mary Alice twisted open the cap, surprised to find hot chocolate.

“I totally expected hot cider.”

“It fit for the clue but not the theme of the rest,” Chad explained.

“There’s a theme?”

“There is.” His mouth lifted, his eyes sparkling.

“An elf, a train, and hot chocolate...” Mary Alice gasped and wondered if she put it together right.

“Do you want to guess?”

“No. I’m waiting until I see what’s next.” She handed over the thermos and unrolled the parchment.

“In summer, you’ll find shade under our span

Tonight’s final stop is our grove of________.

The only other kind of grove they have is pecans.” Mary Alice frowned. “That doesn’t rhyme.”

“It does if you’re from Georgia.”

“This is Mississippi, city boy. Here we say pe-KHAN. Which is the correct way.”

Laughing, he wrapped an arm around her as they headed toward the pecan grove. “How about we agree to disagree on the proper pronunciation and agree that pecan pie is damned tasty in any incarnation?”

“I can accept that compromise.”

They shared a capful of the hot chocolate on the walk, discussing favorite desserts and family recipes. The sun was down by the time they made it to the backside of the grove and the shed at its edge. They circled around to the other side and Mary Alice gasped in delight.

A fire pit was ready and waiting to light. A picnic hamper and blanket lay neatly to one side. But that wasn’t the best part. A white sheet was hung from the back wall of the shed, and a projector was attached to a laptop, just waiting to play.

“This is...amazing.”

Chad just grinned. “You want to take that guess now?”