“He’s busy, and I’m busy and I could call obviously, but email might be easier.” Also less awkward for both of them.
Lynda paused. “Whatever is best for you, of course. When you decide, just let us know. And you and Delphi should come up here that first weekend in December like you did last year. We’ll be doing sled rides and snowshoeing. The two of you could help me make some of the wreaths and garlands and then you can head out into the forest with Noah and pick a special tree for your own living room. I’d love to see you, and it would be fun for Delphi. Remember when she used to call Noah ‘the Christmas tree man’？”
“I do. She still thinks of him that way.” Maybe she could somehow arrange for Delphi and Noah to choose a tree together and she could help Lynda in the kitchen.
“The Maple Sugar Inn is always a picture at Christmas. I know it’s a busy time, so you’re to promise me you’ll reach out if you need anything.”
“I will.” Hattie was touched by Lynda’s kindness. “Thank you.”
“It has been tough for you, I know. Life has pulled the rug out from under your feet, that’s for sure, but there’s some comfort in knowing that you’re living your dream.”
No, Hattie thought, she wasn’t living her dream. She was living Brent’s dream, and it wasn’t the same thing. But she couldn’t possibly tell anyone that. This place had meant everything to Brent, and all of their savings had gone into making it what it was today. In the beginning she’d had a few ideas of her own, but Brent hadn’t thought they would work so they’d followed his plan. She was the caretaker of his dreams and the pressure was crushing.
What if she messed it all up? She loved the guests and enjoyed making their stay special but managing the staff was killing her.
Perhaps that was why she’d kissed Noah. For a brief time she’d wanted to throw off the weight of life and feel young, and light and lost in the moment instead of weighed down by responsibility and anxiety for the future.
She was twenty-eight, and most of the time she felt a hundred.
Having assured Lynda again that she absolutely did not need help, she ended the call and felt Delphi’s arms wrap around her legs.
“Mommy, are you sad?”
Hattie pulled herself together. “I’m not sad. This isn’t my sad face. It’s my thoughtful face.”
“Are you thinking about Christmas? I think about Christmas a lot.”
“Yes, I was absolutely thinking about Christmas.” Not Noah, or the seductive pressure of his mouth, or that fleeting moment when she’d felt that maybe, just maybe, life might be good again one day if she could just hold on. “Can’t wait.”
“Can we get a tree tomorrow?” Delphi gazed up at her hopefully and she stroked her daughter’s hair, feeling those soft curls tickle her palm.
“Not yet, honey. We have to wait until the first week of December, otherwise the tree will be—” She paused. Dead wasn’t her favorite word right now “—tired. It will be tired by the time Christmas Day comes.”
And the tree wasn’t the only one who would be tired.
As the Bishop sisters would say—that’s life.
She needed a miracle, but those were thin on the ground so she was willing to settle for a chef who didn’t have anger-management issues, a housekeeper who didn’t have a permanent sense-of-humor failure, and friendly guests.
TWO
Erica
Was she really going to do this? It broke all her rules. It was everything she avoided.
Maybe turning forty had blown something in her brain.
Erica lay on her stomach on the bed, feeling as if she was about to step over a cliff edge. Her laptop screen displayed an image of a picture book–perfect inn, surrounded by snow and bathed in a holiday glow. Lights shone from the windows. It was described by reviewers as magical and romantic. Erica didn’t believe in magic, and she wasn’t romantic. She stared at it and felt her heart start to pound. Doubts burrowed into her brain and nudged at her resolve. Once she did it, that was it. There was no changing her mind. No rowing back on the decision.
Muttering under her breath, she stood up and paced to the window of her hotel room. Beyond the windows the city was alive with activity. People walked quickly, heads down, wrapped up against the bitter cold. In the square below people seemed to be setting up some sort of market.
She leaned her head against the glass.
What was wrong with her? She was a decisive person, and she’d made this decision the same way she made all her decisions, by considering pros and cons. There was no logical reason to feel stressed. And yet, here she was, stressed.
On impulse, she reached for her phone.
If she was doing this, then she needed her friends there.
Feeling shaky and a little unsteady, she tried Claudia first but it went straight to voice mail, which worried her a little. Claudia’s ten-year relationship had imploded six months earlier and she’d been having a difficult time. Erica called her frequently to check on her, and usually she picked up right away.
But not today.
She tried calling again, and this time considered leaving a message, but decided against it. What would she say? Hey, it’s Erica and I need you to stop me doing something I’m going to regret. Claudia had enough problems of her own.
She called Anna instead.
Her friend answered almost immediately.
“Erica! I didn’t expect to hear from you today. I thought you were traveling.” There was a clatter in the background. “How does it feel to be forty? Is it any different? I’m not sure whether I should be dreading the day or not. Will I need a therapist? I can’t wait to get together so I can celebrate with you.”
Erica waited until her friend paused to take a breath. “Forty feels no different from thirty-nine.” That wasn’t quite true, but she didn’t intend to dwell on it. “Thanks for your birthday message. Your singing is still awful, by the way. Took me right back to college and having to use earphones whenever you took a shower.”
“Pete would sympathize with you, but I love singing so I’m not going to stop for anyone. So what’s wrong? Tell me.”
“Why would anything be wrong?”
“Because you don’t normally call me at breakfast time,” Anna said. “You’re usually in a meeting.”
“I’m in Berlin. It’s lunchtime.”
“Berlin? I’m envious. Are you visiting the Christmas markets?”
Erica glanced back toward the window, wondering if that was what was happening in the square below. “Of course I’m not visiting the Christmas markets. This is me you’re talking to. I’m working. There’s a conference. Also, it’s November.”
“Christmas markets are often open in November. You could sneak out, surely.”
How could two people who were so different be such good friends?
“I could sneak out, but why would I?”
“To enjoy yourself? To get in the Christmas mood? Any of those things ringing bells? No, I guess not. Never mind. Claudia and I have long since given up trying to fill you with festive joy. So if you’re not calling to make me jealous with talk of gingerbread and handmade crafts, why are you calling?”