“Ivy?” Someone was rapping at the front door, where Punkin was posted, barking enthusiastically and wagging his tail.

It was Phoebe. She stood on the porch, her hand wrapped around a spindly four-foot-tall evergreen—complete with a Christmas tree stand.

Her friend giggled at the sight of Ivy. “Hello, Mrs. Claus! I see you’re finally getting in the spirit.”

“I was up in the attic, looking for…” She paused, pointing at the tree. “What’s that?”

“Um, it’s a midsized evergreen. Fraser fir. What’s it look like, silly? I know it’s pushy of me, but I just couldn’t stand the idea of your not having a Christmas tree. This one is kind of a Charlie Brown tree, but since it’s sort of wonky, the guy at the lot sold it to me for five bucks.”

“For me?” Ivy hugged her friend. “That’s so sweet. And thoughtful.”

“Well?” Phoebe peered around her, toward the living room. “Are we gonna stand out here in the freezing cold, or are we gonna set it up inside?”

“Doh!” Ivy smacked her forehead. “Yes, come on in. The only thing is…”

Phoebe set her tree just inside the doorway and pointed an accusing finger at the tree by the fireplace. “Hey! Looks like someone beat me to the punch.”

“Ezra. He says his property used to be a Christmas tree farm and he’s been culling some of the older trees because he wants to plant some new ones.”

“The old Freeman place,” Phoebe said, looking up at the tree. “Freeman’s Fraser Fir Farm. It’s only about a half a mile down the road from here.” She gave Ivy a sly wink. “Convenient, right? And unique. Any dude can bring a girl flowers or candy. But not everyone gifts his new squeeze with a Christmas tree. And a twelve-foot-tall tree, at that.”

“He’s not my squeeze. He’s just … a nice guy,” Ivy said. “A really nice guy,” she added. “Of course, being a guy, he didn’t think to bring a stand—like you.”

“I think it’s a Y-chromosome thing,” Phoebe said. “Cluelessness.”

“He said he’d bring me a stand later, after he finishes with some deal he’s trying to close before Christmas, but in the meantime, I scouted around, went up into the attic, and found a stand. Along with this,” she said, gesturing at her outfit. “I was just getting ready to bring the stand down from the attic when you showed up.”

“You just found that up in the attic?”

“In a gold box labeled ‘Betty Rae.’ I couldn’t resist trying it on.”

“It fits like it was made for you,” Phoebe said. “But I can’t believe Betty Rae Rose ever fit into that outfit. I bet she weighed at least fifty pounds more than you.”

“Huh.” Ivy smoothed the jacket over her hips. “Don’t think I’m crazy, but I got the weirdest feeling when I tried it on.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Just sort of warm and glowy inside, like the human embodiment of a cup of hot cocoa. I’m insane, right? Comes from living alone.”