by Alyse Miller
“Actually, he delivered them today. We wrapped them last night,” Roxanne added. She remembered the Costa kids and smiled. Then, she remembered the kiss she’d shared under Clara’s mistletoe with Mark and felt the heat crawl up her cheeks. “He let me ride along with him in the Snowcat, and we—”
“You spent the day delivering Christmas presents to poor kids?” Hunter’s voice was incredulous. Roxanne’s family stared at him and he had the decency to look embarrassed. He cleared his throat and tried to save it. “I mean to say, you spent the day roaming around with some forest ranger instead of getting here as early as you could? Everyone has been waiting on you, including me. I was worried sick when I got here and heard you’d been in an accident.”
The heat in Roxanne’s cheeks turned into a different kind of fire. She wasn’t sure whether to be insulted that Hunter would be so callous about her being charitable, or if she didn’t like the way he’d spoken about Mark, or that he’d just tried to make her feel guilty for being late to the cabin. Actually, all of it was really offensive.
She was just about to say something to that effect, when Grandma Myrtle’s voice cut in. “Giving back is good for the soul,” she said matter-of-factly, bestowing upon Roxanne an approving smile as the family’s inarguable matriarch. “Nothing brings out the real Christmas Spirit like doing good for those around you. You did right, honey.”
“Thank you, Grandma Myrtle,” Roxanne said as she slid her hand out from under Hunter’s, hoping he’d get her point.
“It doesn’t hurt that Mark Foster isn’t hard on the eyes either. I met him once when we brought the kids out during the summer, and oh boy,” Rachel, giggled girlishly into her eggnog. She flipped her hand dismissively at Hunter, who was now busy looking insulted himself. “Not that you aren’t uber handsome, Hunter. Don’t mind me—baby hormones.” She rubbed her belly and winked at Roxanne.
Roxanne put on her best diplomatic face and gave her sister a warning smile. “I didn’t notice,” she lied. Rachel had always been boy crazy, and an instigator, and Roxanne didn’t want any drama with Hunter in front of her family. So far he’d been oddly quiet about whatever he might have noticed on the cabin’s front porch, and Roxanne didn’t want to tempt his jealousy when he was clearly on his best behavior—which in itself was something of a mystery. “Did Hunter tell you that he’s going to be premiering at the London Fashion Week this year? He’ll be working Armani,” she said, trying to steer the conversation into safer topics.
While her family smiled good-naturedly, not having a clue what London Fashion Week was, Hunter played coy. “Oh, come now, babe. No one cares about London Fashion Week right now. It’s Christmas. Besides,” he gave the room a sly grin and smoothly turned the tables, “did Rox tell you her latest news?”
He turned his eyes to her encouragingly, but she had no idea what he was talking about. She pushed her breath out in a nervous laugh. “My news? I don’t have any news?”
Hunter put his hand dramatically to his head and clicked his teeth. “I assumed you knew already,” he exclaimed, with staged effect. “Did you not get the email? What have you been doing all week, living under a snowball?”
A tremor of excitement was running alongside Roxanne’s nerves. “I haven’t had cell signal,” she admitted, leaving out the fact that she hadn’t really tried to use her phone—but she had noticed he hadn’t tried to get in touch with her, either. “I haven’t even looked at my inbox. What news?”
He beamed, wrapping his arms around her, and directed the news at her family. “Roxanne shared some of her designs with Vivian Yurich, the editor-in-chief of Vogue, who sent them to one of her dearest friends, Dahlia D’Arcy”—he paused, letting the name sink in although only Roxanne would recognize it. Dahlia D’Arcy was one of the hottest up-and-coming couture designers in French fashion. Roxanne’s stomach hit the floor. “And Dahlia loved them,” he went on. “Loved them so much, that she’s selected three of Rox’s designs for her spring line, and has asked Rox to join her at her firm in Paris.” He stood excitedly, pulling Roxanne on wobbling feet up beside him. “In fact, this dress is one of Roxanne’s designs, freshly made by one of the premier tailors in Madrid. Doesn’t she look absolutely brilliant?”
Roxanne’s family was congratulating her, but she couldn’t hear it past the sound of her heart beating in her ears. She gawked at Hunter, all pretenses of posture completely forgotten in her shock. “Are you serious?” was all she could say. The room was spinning. She felt faint. It was everything she had hoped for—everything she had dreamed for—and now that it was happening, she couldn’t believe that it was real. She tried to sit back down, but Hunter held her upright, keeping her on her feet with her hands locked in his.
“Read your email, babe,” Hunter grinned, exposing a row of perfect teeth. It was his real smile, the one that gave him dimples on both sides of his mouth, and not the one he used for the camera. “You’re the hottest piece of news right now, I promise you that. Vivian Yurich is already congratulating you on your move to France, unless this isn’t what you want?”
“It’s what I’ve always wanted,” Roxanne said, but the words felt hollow coming out of her lips—not because they were untrue, but something seemed to have shifted in her and they didn’t fit completely right anymore. She really wanted to sit down, but Hunter hadn’t loosened his grip on her hands and seemed intent on keeping her on her feet. Maybe she should have worn more comfortable shoes. It was fantastic news, but something about the way Hunter was sharing it made her uneasy, like she was missing the punch line of some elaborately planned joke. Like it was his big news, and not hers. She resolved to phone Spencer the moment she could to verify the scoop.
“It’s all part of what we’ve been working toward,” Hunter added. All Roxanne could do was smile, reflecting the expressions of each of her family member’s faces. Only Grandma Myrtle seemed to recognize Roxanne’s hesitation. Her clouded eyes looked stormy with concern.
Hunter took a deep breath and gave her hands a slight squeeze. She watched his Adam’s apple buoy in his throat as he swallowed. Then, he stepped in closer to her so that the only place she could look was directly into his eyes.
“I have another surprise for you,” he said, his tone suddenly hushed and conspiratorial. He released one of her hands and reached into his coat jacket, while simultaneously he lowered himself down to one knee in front of her. Eyes still on hers, Hunter pulled a box from his pocket. Roxanne immediately recognized the Tiffany blue box, and knew instantly what would be inside even before she saw the black velvet of the box’s interior. She heard a sharp intake of breath, but couldn’t be sure if it were her mother’s, or Rachel’s, or maybe even her own.
Roxanne’s heart made the same sucking sound as the ring box as Hunter peeled it open. He had, of course, spared no expense—a ring like this was as much a reflection of Roxanne as it would be for him. Flashing in the light of the Christmas tree, the world’s most iconic engagement ring stared up at her. Four karats, flawless in a six-prong setting, the large center diamond seemed to float above a brilliant pavé band that twinkled as if it were made of stars. It was absolutely stunning, but even still, when she looked at the ring Roxanne felt nothing but shock…and maybe a little bit of dread. It was too much, too fast.
Hunter held the box open in front of her, allowing the dramatic tension to build in the room without saying anything. “Hunter, I…” she began, unsure of what to say when it finally felt that the silence had gone on too long.
He took this as a cue to continue. “Roxanne Elizabeth Hudson,” he said, in a rehearsed voice, “would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”
Chapter 16
The next time Roxanne could think clearly, she was standing alone on the cabin’s front porch, clutching the blue Tiffany box in her hand like some kind of weird flotation device. She knew she’d embarrassed Hunter when she’d fled the room, but then again he’d basically ambushed her. First, he’d shown up in Vermont. Then the d
ress. Then the news about Dahlia, and her designs, and Paris. It was more than she could handle at once. Normally, Roxanne wasn’t claustrophobic. But as soon as Hunter had asked her to marry him it felt like each of the cabin’s four walls had immediately closed in about three inches, continuing to squeeze in tighter at a steady and certain rate. If she’d stayed in the room any longer, she would have eventually been crushed to death under the weight of his question and her family’s penetrating gaze.
It didn’t help that she couldn’t answer him.
She couldn’t even believe that he’d asked.
Outside in the cold night air, at least she could breathe again. Once her pulse returned to a more normal rhythm, she decided she needed to talk to someone—anyone—who she could trust. At the moment, it was far preferable to being left with her own thoughts, which were basically just a mishmash of doubts and insecurity—her two worst enemies. She pulled out her phone and turned it on, letting loose a sigh of relief when she saw five full bars raise on the upper corner of her iPhone screen. Seconds later her phone started to chime and ding as a list of notifications flooded the screen. At the top, the most recent alert from Instagram told her that Hunter had tagged her in a post. She swiped the post to open Instagram, and saw a selfie of Hunter’s smiling face holding the ring box open so that every casual scroller would see the beautiful engagement ring in high resolution. Beneath the snap, the caption read, “By the time she sees this, she’ll have already said yes.”
Roxanne snorted. She hadn’t said yes, but then again she hadn’t exactly said no either. In fact, what she’d said before she’d made a hasty exit out of the room had been something along the lines of, “I need some air.”
Roxanne closed Instagram. She debated opening up her inbox, but the count of unread emails waiting for her made her change her mind. One thing at a time. Not feeling like she had enough privacy to speak out loud, she opened up a new text and quickly thumbed a message to Spencer.
Merry Christmas Eve, she typed, then breathed a sigh of relief when three flashing dots appeared on the screen, signaling that Spencer had begun his response.
You too, honey. How’s Martha and Snoop’s?
Crowded. Hunter is here. And, he proposed.
I’m sorry, he did what?
Yeah.
When?
Maybe five minutes ago.
He also broke the news about Paris, she said. Did you know?
About the job or the proposal?
Either. Both.
Spencer’s response was delivered at lightning speed, and with his usual degree of cattiness. Do you honestly think I wouldn’t have said something if I knew?
Roxanne shrugged, and replied with the corresponding emoticon. That was an understatement. Spencer did not hold back.
Are you thinking of saying yes? he asked.
It was Roxanne’s turn to shoot back. To Paris or the proposal? She sent the first text through, then realized she had the same answer for both and quickly typed a second message. I don't know. Right now, nothing feels right.
The job is fantastic, girl. Don’t be crazy, you’re just overwhelmed—it’s literally your dream come true (and we’re celebrating when you get home, by the way). But I swear, that boy never misses an opportunity.
Roxanne scrunched her nose at the screen. What do you mean?
Spencer's reply came in paragraph form, and it was classic Spencer—snarky and unflattering. Girl, come on. You’re smarter than that. You guys have been on the rocks, but he proposes right after your career gets the green light and you’re set to become the next big name in fashion? Right, and I’m Beyonce’s long lost brother. Look, I’m not saying he’s riding your coat tails or anything, but it sure would have been nice if the boy let you enjoy you for a second. You earned it. #boybye
I guess you’re right. She hadn’t wanted to admit it, even to herself, but the thought had crossed Roxanne’s mind. Hunter was ambitious, and obsessed with appearances, and she wouldn’t put it past him to be opportunistic. Maybe he’d been planning on proposing, but just had bad timing. Or, maybe he’d just thought it would add extra excitement to the news she’d been waiting her whole life for. She wasn’t sure, but the fact that she had to question it filled her with dread.
Spencer’s dots flashed on and off the screen for longer than Roxanne knew it took for him to compose a text message. Usually, Spencer spoke and then clarified later. Right now, he was taking his time. At long last, a short question appeared on the screen. So, what did you say?
Roxanne considered her response. I didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say. Still don’t.
At least tell me he bought a spectacular ring.
She looked at the blue Tiffany box. Tiffany. Gorgeous. Expensive.
Boring.
Roxanne had to laugh. Classic.
So I’m guessing no special deliveries by the Big Guy in Red, then? Was kinda hoping you’d come home with a big, strapping mountain man.
Mark’s face bubbled to the top of her thoughts. Actually, I think I met one. It’s not like that though, but I’ve got a story for you when I get home.
It’s not like that but you’re thinking of this mystery guy in the same conversation about your live-in proposing? It’s so like that.
Spencer was still typing when someone knocked very softly from the inside of the cabin door. Holding her breath, Roxanne pulled it open, revealing Grandma Myrtle. She had a mug of cocoa in her hand, and Maggie’s winter coat laid across the lap of her wheelchair.
“Mind if I join you,” she asked.
“Of course, Grandma,” Roxanne said, shrugging into the coat and helping to guide her grandmother out onto the porch landing.
“That boyfriend of yours is all in a tizzy,” Grandma Myrtle said into her cocoa. “Haven’t seen a man that upset since Nixon was impeached.”
Roxanne couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Two days ago I would have said yes. I would have doubted myself, but I would have said yes.”
“A lot can change in two days,” her grandmother said wisely.
“Yeah,” Roxanne agreed. She burrowed her head into the neck of Maggie’s coat and tried hard not to think about Mark. A lot could change in two days. Maybe even Roxanne herself could change. She felt like a totally different person than she had been two days ago. She was still the same old Roxanne, but it was almost as if she was awake in a way that she hadn’t been before.
Myrtle laughed, took a long draw from her cocoa, and set the empty mug on her lap. “Change is sometimes good, sometimes bad, but always constant, and it doesn’t worry itself with timelines neither, honey.” The old woman cast a long, thoughtful look out into the night. “If something doesn’t feel right, it’s usually not. You know, when I first met your grandfather I could have sworn I heard bells I was so smitten. No rhyme or reason for it, one look at that man was enough to change the rest of my life. I would have married him after two days, too.”
“Bells?” echoed Roxanne. She remembered the bells she’d been hearing for the past couple of days. They’d started right at the moment at her accident, and ended the moment Mark had turned and walked away. But two days wasn’t enough time to fall in love with someone, was it? Two days ago’s Roxanne would have said no way, but today’s Roxanne wasn’t so sure. She recalled the way Mark’s lips had felt against hers under the mistletoe in the snow and realized she would be happy if that was the last first kiss she ever had. Maybe there was something to all Mark’s hokum about Christmas magic after all. It had made a believer out of her.
“Bells,” Grandma Myrtle confirmed, her voice dropping to a whisper as she fingered the wedding band still on her finger. “Used to hear them jingling every time he kissed me,” she said with a sad smile, “Jimmy’s been gone over ten years, and sometimes, when I miss him the most, I think I can still hear them. Especially on nights like tonight.”
“Why tonight,” Roxanne asked, pulling up a seat beside her grandmother.
“Because it’s Chr
istmas,” Myrtle set, as if it were obvious. “Christmas is a season of love—love of the deepest kind—” she motioned at the box in Roxanne’s hand –“Not the kind that can be bought in a store, neither. That’s what makes it so magical. It’s in here.” She placed her hand lightly on Roxanne’s heart.
“You’re a smart lady, Grandma Myrtle,” Roxanne said, reaching up to cover her grandmother’s hand with hers.
“Oh, honey,” Myrtle laughed, “when you get to be my age you can’t help but be smart. You’ve had a whole lot of life to put behind you and learn a lot of lessons along the way. Some are easy, some are hard, but either way you’re going to learn them, like it or not.”
Roxanne put her face into her hands and mumbled around her fingers. “What would you do if you were me, Grandma? Would you say yes to a man you weren’t sure you really loved, or if he really loved you, just because it was easy and everybody was expecting you to? Would you move halfway around the world to chase your dream? What if there was something on the inside, something little but noisy, trying to tell you to do something different—would you listen, even if it was crazy?”
Grandma Myrtle leaned forward with a bright glint in her eye that reflected the moonlight, and for a brief moment Roxanne caught a glimpse of the woman Myrtle might have been a long, long time ago. “Sweetheart, if I were your age again, I’d do it all. This is your life, and your choice, but I’ll tell you one thing, dear girl. If there’s music in your heart, listen to it. That’s something you don’t want to miss.”
In that moment, Roxanne knew she couldn’t marry Hunter. And for the first time since she’d arrived at her family’s cabin, sitting on the front porch holding her grandmother’s hand in the dark, the sound of sleigh bells filled her ears.
Chapter 17
For the rest of the night, and well into the wee hours of the morning, Roxanne sat with her grandmother, two women separated by seventy years both thinking about love lost and gained and the magic of Christmas. By the time they went back in the cabin, they were nearly frozen and it was nearly dawn. Everyone else had gone off to bed without them, and the first rays of Christmas Day would soon light up the sky. They hadn’t seen Santa come on his annual errand, but their hearts were full just the same as if he had.