A Red Truck and . . .

Merry 5th of December!
This is one of my favorite Christmas decorations this year. Why? Because I have fallen in love with red trucks and Christmas trees. :) I wanted an ornament for the tree of a red truck, but they were too expensive. So, when I discovered this red truck in the box of cars and trucks, I made use of it. And Garlandsburg could do without one tree. ;)

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas–
The song played over the radio in the kitchen and drifted into the living room where Miss Kennedy stood at the window. She was waiting for the mailman, and he was late.
"Not that it really matters," she sighed, brushing a few strands of hair off her face. "There's no one to enjoy Christmas with me this year." She wasn't young anymore, though she wasn't old either. Just in that middle age where she didn't seem to fit anywhere. A few gray hairs had found their way onto her brown head and a lines around her eyes and mouth showed a little more when she smiled.
There's a tree in the Grand Hotel– the song continued.
"But not here," Miss Kennedy remarked to no one. "I despise fake trees and don't have money or the strength to lug in a real one." She lived all alone in the old farmhouse. Not even a cat kept her company because Miss Kennedy didn't particularly like cats. She preferred dogs–big dogs–if they were well trained.
Just as she was about to turn from the window, her still sharp eyes caught a glimpse of something red out on the distant road. It was a truck. Perhaps the same truck she had seen driving by once or twice before in the last few days. She didn't know who owned the truck, but she liked it. She always had liked red trucks.
 "Is it carrying something?" she whispered to herself. A bend in the road and a stand of trees hid the truck for a moment. Then it reappeared. "Yes, it is. Why, it has a Christmas tree on the back! If there's one thing I like better than a red truck, it's a red truck carrying a Christmas tree." With a smile she watched the truck as it drove along the winding road, sometimes disappearing from sight, but always reappearing a moment later. It came closer and closer. As it approached her driveway, it slowed, and–to Miss Kennedy's astonishment, confusion, and consternation–turned into it.
"Who on earth is driving that truck? And why did he turn in here?"

. . .

Tell me what you think happens. Finish the story if you wish, or just leave your suggestions. If I end up writing this story and use your suggestion, I'll send you a copy of the finished story. (Perhaps even with a cover!)