The changing room was empty and she stripped off, showered and pulled on clean clothes. Then she pushed her way through the revolving doors of the gym and into the Californian sunshine.
The day stretched ahead of her, barren and unstructured.
She resisted the urge to call Erica back and off-load on her. She’d done more than enough of that. It was time to fix herself. But how?
The lack of routine was unsettling. Usually, she was far too busy to think about her life, but now she had all the time in the world and she was thinking far too much.
Over the past few days she’d thought herself to the point of exhaustion.
She didn’t know what she wanted or where she was going in life, and shouldn’t she know that by now?
She used to love everything about cooking. The excitement of working with the best ingredients, the creative buzz that came from preparing something delicious. Cooking relaxed her. The sizzle of garlic in hot oil, the scent of fresh herbs, the sense of satisfaction that came from hearing a diner say that the meal she’d prepared was the best thing they’d ever eaten.
But working in a stressful kitchen had killed her love of cooking, and that felt like a loss every bit as big and shocking as the ending of her relationship. Cooking was everything to her, or it had been. But now she no longer felt even a flicker of excitement when she contemplated experimenting with ingredients and flavors. She couldn’t be bothered to make anything more complicated than scrambled eggs and toast. She felt numb and tired.
So now what?
She walked the five blocks to the small apartment she’d rented with John and tried not to snarl as she opened the door.
They’d chosen the place together and being here made her think of him, even though she didn’t want to think of him.
Simmering with emotion that ranged from anger to misery, she made herself strong coffee and switched on her laptop.
Mug in hand, she started to search for jobs. Maybe she didn’t love cooking right now, but she needed to pay the bills and this was the only thing she was qualified to do.
A leading hotel was advertising for a sous-chef so she clicked on the link and checked what qualifications they were looking for.
Two-plus years in a five-star property.
So far so good.
You’re passionate about food.
She used to be passionate. Did that count?
You’re flexible, able to work weekends, nights, holidays and early mornings, and you’re able to energize the team.
No way.
Claudia flipped her laptop shut.
The thought of throwing herself into another busy, impersonal, stressful kitchen exhausted her. There was no way she’d be able to energize a team. She couldn’t even energize herself.
And she just didn’t want to work those stupid, inhuman hours anymore.
She had to build herself a new life, and how was she going to do that if she was working all the time? When was she supposed to have a social life?
She’d left everything behind to follow John to California two years earlier when he’d had a big promotion, and since the day he’d walked out on the life they’d built together, she’d been horribly lonely. She didn’t know anyone here, and she hadn’t had time to meet anyone. Her life had revolved around work and him.
If she was living on the east coast, it would be different. It would be easier to see her friends. She missed her friends. When she’d lived in Boston she would occasionally meet up with Erica if she was in town for business, or visit Anna for a weekend. Here in LA she’d been too busy working to make new friends.
But now she was no longer working.
She reached for her phone and hesitated. She needed to call Erica back. She needed to tell her that as well as losing John, she’d lost her job, but she couldn’t bring herself to make the call. Erica had done so much already. She didn’t need to hear more of Claudia’s woes.
She sat slumped in her chair. She hated herself for it, but she was envious of Erica. She’d made such a success of her life. So had Anna.
Claudia had failed at the two most important things—her relationship and her job. Her entire life was like a disaster movie, with no happy ending in sight.
She checked her emails and found one from Erica. The subject line said Christmas Book Club.
She’d forgotten they’d talked about holding their book club meeting at Christmas, which said a lot about her state of mind given that she was the reason they’d had to cancel their usual summer gathering.
She clicked on the link Erica had sent, expecting it to lead her to the website of a fancy hotel in Manhattan that Claudia wouldn’t be able to afford, but instead of an exclusive hotel, she was looking at a cozy inn in Vermont that looked chocolate-box perfect. Snow clung to the pitched roof and the surrounding forest. Lanterns glowed on either side of the front door.
She felt a pang.
When had she last seen snow? When she’d first moved to California she’d loved the sunshine, but lately she’d started to miss the stunning fall colors and the crisp winters she’d enjoyed as a child growing up in New Hampshire.
She scrolled down and read the text.
Nestled in a picturesque corner of Vermont, surrounded by rugged mountains and meandering rivers, stands the historic Maple Sugar Inn. Originally an eighteenth-century lodging house, it was rescued from its dilapidated state by Hattie and Brent Coleman who lovingly converted it into a boutique hotel. Sadly, Brent died suddenly a year after the inn opened to the public, and it was left to Hattie to continue the work alone.
“Oh. That’s horrible.” Claudia stopped reading for a moment, thinking about Hattie Coleman. Someone else whom life had tried to flatten. Living her dream with the love of her life and then—wham. All over.
According to the article Hattie had moved from London with Brent, who was American, with the purpose of settling in Vermont and living their dream. As someone who had moved across the country to be with a man, Claudia sympathized with how Hattie must be feeling right now. Was she missing home? Wishing she’d never moved? Had she bought a plane ticket back to England?
She felt a stab of sympathy and enlarged the photo of Hattie and her husband, Brent. They were smiling. They looked so happy. And they had a child, a toddler with curls and a big smile. Now fatherless. Why did life have to be so utterly cruel?
Her throat felt full and she closed the photo and went back to the website.
“It has been a labor of love,” Hattie told us as she served us a perfect apple and parsnip soup topped with a swirl of cream and toasted parsnip crisps. With log fires, four-poster beds and spectacular views, it is considered the place for a romantic winter getaway away from it all.
Salivating at the thought of toasted parsnip crisps—she might have added a few shavings of aged parmesan—Claudia frowned. Romantic? Away from it all? The place did not sound like somewhere Erica would choose.
She picked up her phone, but instead of calling Erica she called Anna.
“It’s me. I’ve had a strange email from Erica. Is she okay? I’m worried she has had a bang on the head.”
“I said the same the moment she mentioned Catherine Swift.”
“Is that her book choice? I hadn’t read that far in the email. I was talking about the Maple Sugar Inn.”
“Oh, that. Cute name, don’t you think?”