by Olivia Miles
“Well, find me if you change your mind,” he said. He looked at her for a moment. “I’ve missed you, Jules. You and I, we’re two of a kind.”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Two of a kind?”
He shrugged. “Oh, you know. Most of these people here, they take life too seriously. They want to settle down, live a boring routine life. Up at seven. Home for dinner by six. Sleepy town, sleepy life. No wonder you left. But you…you know how to have a little fun.”
She took that in for a moment, let that sit there, and stew. He hadn’t meant to insult her. In many ways, he was right. Saying all the things that her sisters said. This was the impression she had given off. To Cole. To Tess and Carrie.
Maybe even to Aaron.
She was the flighty girl, the one who was always up for a good time, but never one to stick to one situation for long. She was the first to leave. She was restless.
Only right now, she just wanted to stay put. She wanted to know that something was certain. That someone would stick around.
Because she was sticking around.
She reached into her pocket as she made her way back to the crowd. She spotted Carrie with her girlfriends, still talking, still happily accepting the snowballs that the children were handing her and admiring the angels that they were making in the snow.
Jules looked deeper into the crowd. She spotted Tess and Phoebe over near the craft stands, looking busy enough for the time being.
She ducked around to the back of the popcorn stand, where it was warm but quiet, and she dialed Aaron’s number before she lost her nerve. He’d be in Maine by now, at his parents’ house. He always went up on the twenty-second. Last year, the day before Christmas Eve they’d all gathered around the coffee table near the fireplace and worked on a jigsaw puzzle, sharing a bottle of wine and eating sugar cookies fresh from the oven. It was the kind of Christmas she had always wanted as a kid, the kind she had only ever read about in books until she’d had Christmas at Tess’s house a few years back, but even then that had felt like Tess’s Christmas, whereas with Aaron’s family, it felt like…their Christmas. Like a tradition that she could count on, year after year after year. If she wanted to.
The phone was ringing now, each peal made her heart beat even faster until she could practically hear it in her ears, and all other sounds from the festival felt washed out and muted. She licked her lips, waiting for him to pick up, to hear the sound of his voice, to know that everything was going to be okay. To tell him…What?
Panic set in. What would she say exactly? She’d never told anyone that she loved them. And was love even what she felt? Or was it longing, because she missed him? Would she cross a line, let him closer into her world, and then push him back out again? Or would he change his mind? Change his heart?
The voicemail clicked on. Jules glanced over at the table where Cole still sat, but it was too far a distance and she couldn’t make out his face. And she didn’t want to go back there. She’d rather be alone.
The phone beeped. She had to make a choice. To hang up, or to say something, anything.
“Aaron, it’s me.” She paused. She wondered if she would drain the storage, if she’d be cut off. “I’m in Winter Lake. And…it’s Christmas. And…I miss you. And…I don’t want it to be like this. I want…” What did she want?
It felt so complicated, when really, it was so simple. She wanted Aaron in her life. Today and every day. She never wanted to miss him again.
“I think you know what I want,” she said. She blinked rapidly, her mind racing. Did he know what she wanted? She thought of his reaction when she’d revealed she was going for the permanent position, how he hadn’t even looked surprised, even when she had never shown interest in such a thing ever before.
He saw more to her than she saw in herself, she realized. He saw her potential. He saw straight through to her heart.
She swallowed hard. “You know me, Aaron. And I know you. And…I miss you.”
The phone cut off before she’d said what she wanted to say. What she couldn’t say and should have said. The three words that would have said more than all those other jumbled words.
I love you.
Because she did.
With tears blurring her vision, she pushed the phone back into her pocket and crunched over the snow to find her sisters who were now together, standing at the base of the sledding hill, waiting for the races that Phoebe had been so excited about to begin. She wasn’t even sure they would notice if she didn’t join them, now that they were both so chummy again, and she had half a mind to go back to the house, pull out a book and sit on the window seat in her room, trying to escape her own thoughts. Trying to push away the worry that she had messed up. That she’d used up her chances.
But she didn’t want to be alone. Not today. Not tomorrow.
She needed to figure out her life, as Tess always liked to remind her. Only for once, it no longer felt within her control. She wanted more than she dared to allow herself in the past. And there was no doubt about it: it was scary.
But she was beginning to think that it was worth it.
Chapter Nineteen
Tess
Tess waited until the sledding races were over to slip away, even though it had been tempting to disappear sooner. The thought of her child speeding down an icy hill gave her chills that had nothing to do with the wind. It made her think of Andrew. And his final seconds on this earth.
But the look of sheer joy and exhilaration on Phoebe’s face when she stood up had been worth a few moments of nervous agony. She was fine. Unscathed. Unbruised. And having the time of her life. The way she should be.
“Could you keep an eye on Phoebe for me?” She had directed the question at Carrie but it was Jules who answered first.
“Of course! I’ve been thinking of going down a few runs, too.”
Carrie gave Tess a small smile. Only Jules would think to join the sledding race.
“I’ll be back soon. Last-minute shopping,” she explained.
There was a gift that she still needed to buy for Phoebe—the star necklace she had mentioned to Jeff. Surely Phoebe had spotted it at one of the shops. Maybe that was what had prompted the request. And she still had her sisters to think about, too. A nice scarf and hat set would be put to use.
She caught herself. Ever the practical one.
She left Phoebe in the company of her sisters with the promise to be back in time for the snowman building event, and left the town square for Lake Street, where the shops were all lit up for the festival, many offering special sales or freebies to entice people to stop in: the toy store was offering hot cider and donuts, and the gift shop had a chalkboard outside that welcomed guests with hot chocolate. It had been a while since Tess had come down this way, since the fall, she supposed, when a Halloween event had lured Phoebe to the trick-or-treat event offered at all the shops.
Now she saw that the old barber next to Jeff’s restaurant had finally closed its doors—business had been bad for years ever since Bruce Caparini started give bowl-cuts that slanted on a forty-five-degree angle across the forehead, and that was back when he was around eighty. He had to be at least ninety-two now, Tess thought. The storefront was dark, the only one not lit by strings of lights. She wanted to see it lit by lights.
Tess didn’t know why she was indulging herself like this, but she stopped and looked through the window, taking in the narrow space with the big windows that opened onto the heart of town. It could hold a long counter. A few tables near the window. More outside in the warmer weather.
She looked at the sign taped to the window advertising the lease information. She had no idea what the rent would be, likely unaffordable, but just in case, she took down the number in her cell phone, feeling silly as she did so.
Why was she even indulging this fantasy? She was a single mother. She had a child to provide for. College funds and mortgage payments and little expenditures along the way were no joke. There was no fallback. No se
cond income or inheritance. There was only her.
And, she thought, her sisters. Comforting, but not the answer to everything.
What she really needed was a steady office job. Only she’d never been good at computers and systems and all of those things. And going back to school was out of the question—more money and no time. She needed a job now.
And the one thing she was good at was baking cupcakes.
Slowly, she stepped away from the window, wondering if she should even call the number. But already her mind was toying with color schemes. Phoebe would want pink, of course. It was a happy color, Tess thought, warming to the idea. And a logo. That was something her friend Natalie could do for her. Something cheerful. Something that could lift even her spirits.
She grinned to herself, deciding that at the very least, it was nice to have something to dream about, when she felt something smack her on the back. Not hard, but not exactly soft, either.
She frowned and turned, expecting to see some local boys having a good laugh at her expense, but instead she saw Jeff, giving her a look that was amused, but far from joking.
Her stomach tightened for one telling second at the way his smile lit up his eyes, and then, quick as she could, she bent down and scooped up some snow and flung it in his direction.
And missed. Instead, she narrowly skirted the awkward and slightly horrifying possibility of hitting old Hazel Ofman, once the town’s librarian, in the head. But Mrs. Ofman hobbled along, oblivious, humming to herself.
Jeff stared at her with wide, gleaming eyes. Tess covered her mouth with one hand, but she was laughing.
“What did they used to call you on that softball team again?” Jeff said as he approached.
Tess laughed harder. It was a humiliating story, but it flattered her that he would remember such a thing. The only person other than her sisters who knew that story was Andrew, after all.
“Grandma,” she said, grinning wider. She apparently had the arm of an old lady
Jeff laughed, loud and strong, straight from the belly. “What are you up to, Grandma? I was just on my way to the festival.”
“I had a last-minute gift to buy Phoebe,” Tess explained.
“In the empty barber shop?” Jeff gave her an appraising look. “Or were you checking out that lease sign? Thinking about my suggestion?”
“Not in any seriousness,” Tess said quickly. She felt a blush heat her cheeks. “Just…dreaming.”
“It’s good to have dreams.” Jeff had caught up with her and now stood beside her, staring into the window of the storefront. He cupped his hands on either side of his face and pressed his fingers to the glass. “Wouldn’t require much build out. Just a kitchen, some paint, a counter.”
“Just a kitchen?” Tess laughed.
“I’ve had my eye on it,” he surprised her by saying.
Tess resisted the urge to frown. It wasn’t her space, after all. She didn’t have the funds to make an offer on it. But now, the thought of losing out on the possibility bothered her.
“The restaurant is packed,” Jeff continued. “We could do with more space.” He shrugged. He was standing shoulder to shoulder with her looking in the window, but she could feel him watching her.
“Huh.” Tess nodded, unable to say anything more.
“Of course,” Jeff eventually said, “if you wanted it, I wouldn’t take it from you.”
She glanced at him and scoffed. “Nonsense. You’re the one in the business.”
He gave her a little grin. “Only if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure,” she said firmly, but her heart skipped a beat, leaving her with an uneasy feeling. If she didn’t know better, she might call it disappointment.
His expression became strange, and he held her gaze a moment longer than friends probably should.
“I’m glad I ran into you, actually,” Jeff said, roaming his eyes over her.
Her pulse quickened. Something in the way he was looking at her made her nervous, not necessarily in a bad way. But why should she feel nervous about Jeff? He was her rock. He was sweet. And kind.
And handsome.
“Oh?” Damn. Her voice was tight, locked in her throat.
“I have a present for Phoebe, but I wanted to run it by you first,” he said.
Oh. She didn’t know whether to feel disappointed or relieved by this. Relieved, she decided. Definitely relieved.
“I’m sure she’ll love whatever you give her,” Tess said, knowing that it was true. Phoebe adored Jeff. He was warm and funny and he’d filled a hole for her. He made her laugh. Made her almost forget about the pain of losing Andrew.
Forget. Tess drew a sharp intake of air, panic setting in. She couldn’t let Phoebe just forget her father. And she could never replace him.
“Oh, it’s not Phoebe I’m worried about,” he said, laughing a little under his breath.
Tess gave him a hard look. She wasn’t so sure that she liked the gleam in his eyes. “What did you buy her?”
He waved her in the direction of his building. “I’ll show you.”
Tess decided that she had a few minutes to spare to see what Jeff had in mind. “Please tell me it’s not a puppy,” she pleaded, her mind beginning to spin with the least appropriate gifts that Jeff could have bought. “I love dogs, and I know Phoebe’s been after me for one, and maybe in the spring, but…”
“Relax,” he said, stopping to set his hands on her shoulders. They were heavy and strong, warm and assuring. She met his eyes. She wanted to look away but she couldn’t.
“It’s nothing living then? No…vermin?”
He burst out laughing and dropped his hands. “Vermin?”
“You know…hamsters. Gerbils. Things that live in cages.” Things that required clean up and responsibility. It would be just like Jeff to feed into Phoebe’s wishes rather than be practical about this.
“Noting living,” he assured her. He led her over to his building, but instead of opening the door to the restaurant, he surprised her by unlocking the door that led to his apartment.
She hesitated on the street. This felt like a turning point in their relationship, and she didn’t know why it should. It was just his apartment. He’d been to her house dozens of times—hundreds of times, since she and Andrew had bought it.
But never alone. Phoebe had always been the chaperone. And before that, well of course, there had been Andrew.
He glanced back over his shoulder. “You coming?”
She said nothing, seeing no reasonable excuse that wouldn’t make her look paranoid and neurotic, and followed him up the narrow stairs to a landing at the second floor that contained one door. He opened it and she braced herself, expecting the worst kind of bachelor pad: a futon, crates from the restaurant for end tables, a television that took up three-quarters of a wall.
She blinked as she took in her surroundings. Polished wood floors. An oversized leather couch with actual throw pillows on either end. Framed prints of the Vermont landscape: she recognized a few of Winter Lake, a few of the mountain.
She looked away quickly. She didn’t like looking at the mountains anymore, not even in a photo. Hadn’t been back on one since Andrew’s accident. But she knew that Andrew would have still wanted Phoebe to ski, to do what he loved, what he couldn’t do anymore.
She took in the rest of the space, not wanting to look too curious, but still rather in awe of it all. A television that was unsurprisingly larger than her own was mounted above a fireplace and in the corner of the room was an actual dining table. With six chairs. She realized with shame that she’d assumed he ate sitting on the couch, or down at the restaurant, at the bar. But maybe he had dinner parties, or family over.
“Do you entertain?” she asked, motioning to the table. It seemed surprising that he would, given that she and Andrew had never been invited before.
He gave her a sheepish look. “Poker nights.”
She gave a little smile. Of course. She’d forgotten about those. Andrew did
n’t go as much once Phoebe was older, and when he did, he stayed up too late and was tired the next day.
“He never wagered more than fifty bucks,” she remembered. He was responsible when it came to things like that. He was responsible in general. And what happened on the mountain had been reckless, but it had been an accident. She knew that deep down, when the anger faded and the sadness replaced it.
“Usually won, too,” Jeff said ruefully.
Tess swept her eyes around the room once more. “This is really nice,” she said.
“You don’t have to sound so surprised,” he said lightly.
Jeff tossed his jacket on the back of an armchair but she kept her coat on, not sure how long he intended to stay. The kitchen was open to the living room—all sleek stainless-steel appliances and open shelving stocked with canisters of dried pasta and grains and cereal.
He opened the fridge and peered in.
“Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?”
She shook her head. “I’m fine.”
“Well,” he said, looking at her for a minute. “Let me get the present and see what you think. It’s not every day that I give a gift to an eight-year-old girl, so I did the best I could.”
Tess waited while he disappeared down a hallway, darting her eyes over the space again. On the shelves that flanked the tall window overlooking Lake Street were framed photos, candid shots. She walked over to them now, looking at photos of Jeff with his sisters and parents from last Christmas, another of Jeff when he was younger, jumping into the lake, his arms over his head, his body scrawny.
And another of Jeff and Andrew.
She felt the air leave her lungs as her eyes fixed on the photo, and gingerly, she took the frame from the shelf, almost afraid to touch it, as if she could drop it. It was a recent photo, taken the summer before the accident, during one of their picnics at the lake. She’d taken the photo; she remembered it now. Jeff was holding a beer and Andrew was standing beside him, manning the grill. The water glistened behind them. It was one of those picture-perfect summer evenings that you never wanted to end, the kind where butterflies flew until they were replaced with fireflies, and the sunset cast swirls of pink and peach and purple in the sky.