“We’re talking about one week, Anna, that’s all. You’ll be back before Christmas, so you’ll have plenty of time to deck the halls or whatever it is you do. Friend time and family time. Best of both worlds.”
“I need to think about it,” Anna said. “It’s my favorite time of year and I really want to feel Christmassy. No offense, but Christmas stuff makes you shudder.”
“I promise not to shudder.” Erica didn’t have much clue what feeling Christmassy involved, but she was willing to do some research and provide whatever was needed to keep her friend happy. Surely you could book these things as extras in a hotel? “And if you want Christmassy, then you’re going to love the place I’ve found. It’s idyllic. Quaint.” Her heart beat a little faster. “Even Santa would drool over it.”
“I don’t believe you. You choose sophisticated boutique hotels that make me want to redecorate my home. You don’t do quaint.”
“This time I have, but fortunately I’ve done it without sacrificing luxury. It’s the perfect compromise for everyone.”
“Mmm.” Anna clearly needed convincing. “What about the book? Have we decided what we’re reading? These days I fall asleep standing up so reading takes me a while. Did you talk to Claudia about doing book club in December?”
“I tried. She’s not picking up. I’ll call her later. She sounded really down when I spoke to her a few days ago so I want to check on her. After everything that has happened this year, a week away somewhere might be just what she needs.”
“You’re right. It’s time to help her get back on her feet,” Anna said. “But much as I love Claudia I do not want to plow my way through another biography of a chef or a politician as our book choice.”
Trying to find a book that appealed to all of them was always a challenge. Anna loved romantic fiction, Erica enjoyed thrillers and true crime, while Claudia preferred nonfiction.
“I was going to suggest the new Catherine Swift. It’s called Her Last Lover.”
“What?” Anna choked with laughter. “I’m officially worried. First, you tell me you’ve found somewhere Christmassy to stay, and now you’re reading romance? Is this what hitting forty has done to you?”
“This isn’t a romance.”
“She’s a romance novelist. I’ve read every single book she has written, most of them more than once. And you said the book is called Her Last Lover. That’s romantic. The last man she ever loves.”
“It’s not romantic. He’s her last lover because she kills him.”
“Oh!” Anna’s shock reverberated down the phone. “Are you sure you have the right author? Catherine Swift?”
“I think she’s writing this one under L.C. Swift or something. But the book is a thriller. The reviews are excellent and the movie is already in production.”
“I didn’t know she’d switched genres,” Anna said. “You’ve just broken my heart. Her last book was brilliant. Made me cry. That ending. Is this one scary? You know I don’t do scary.”
“I haven’t read it yet, but I promise we can keep the lights on if you’re scared. I’ve ordered you both a copy. Arriving tomorrow.”
“Does it have blood on the cover? I hate books that have blood on the cover.”
“No blood. Just a wedding ring and a very sharp-looking knife.” She could almost feel Anna’s shudder. “I’ll cover it in snowflake paper if that helps. Aren’t you a little intrigued as it’s Catherine Swift and she is your favorite author?”
“I don’t know. But I’m a little relieved you haven’t had a personality transplant overnight. I was starting to worry. Now, tell me more about this place you’ve found for us to stay.”
Erica felt something uncurl inside her. “I’ve sent you a link. Check your email.”
There was a pause and a sound of keys being tapped. “Okay, now I’m sure you’ve had a bang on the head,” Anna said. “This is—wow. It looks like something from a fairy tale.”
Fairy tales often had grim endings, Erica thought, and felt another stab of doubt.
“You approve?”
“Yes, although—” there was another pause “—this really doesn’t seem like you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re a city person,” Anna said. “This place will be all about snowshoeing and cozy nights in front of the fire with hot cocoa. I’m the one who loves fresh air and walks in the country. You’re all about bright lights, cocktails and designer shopping.”
“That’s true, but I do that all the time. This is an escape.”
Escape? Who was she kidding?
“But you don’t usually want to escape. Nothing frustrates you more than being in the middle of nowhere. Remember that summer we booked that hotel in the Catskills? You left a day early.”
She’d forgotten how well Anna knew her.
“There was a crisis.”
“Mmm. I seem to recall that the crisis was that the phone signal was unreliable, which is why we’ve done city breaks ever since. This place you’ve found looks amazing, but it’s not you. What’s going on?”
For a moment she considered telling her friend the truth. All of it, including the real reason she’d chosen this place. But if she told the truth, Anna would ask her lots of probing questions that Erica wasn’t ready to answer.
She wanted to tread cautiously. Anna would dive right in like an out-of-control puppy, creating havoc, and Erica would risk losing control of what happened next. She didn’t want to lose control. Whatever happened, or didn’t happen, she wanted it to be her decision.
“Nothing is going on. I knew the only way to tempt you from your nest at Christmas was to produce the perfect Christmas getaway complete with all the festive trimmings. Instead of the No-Phone-Signal Hotel Book Club, it’s the Christmassy Hotel Book Club. Do you want to come or not?”
“We’ve known each other for twenty years, Erica. I know when you’re keeping secrets.”
“Twenty years? There you go again, reminding me of my age. Pretty soon we’re going to be the Retirement Hotel Book Club.” Her phone beeped with another call and she checked the screen.
Jack.
Her heart jumped. That, she had not expected. Why was he calling her? He knew she was traveling this week.
She had a brief flashback to the night of her birthday, the long, leisurely dinner in a restaurant with jaw-dropping views over Manhattan. The food had been memorable, the wine delicious, but best of all was the company. Jack had made her laugh, and he’d made her feel fabulous. As if being forty was the beginning of a whole new exciting stage of her life. After dinner they’d gone back to her apartment…
She frowned, remembering. The sex had been different. Slower, more intense, more—intimate?
She stared at her phone. If Jack needed her company at an event he would have mentioned it when they were together. Or maybe it was something that had just come up, in which case he could leave a message.
She let the call go to voice mail and turned her attention back to Anna, who was still questioning Erica’s choice. “How did you even find this inn?”