by Linda West
They had decided to try out a new batch, and mother and Aunt Carol had run out to procure some anise to be sure.
Summer looked at the old recipe book spread out in front of her. Yes, Grandma Izzy’s cookies had always reigned supreme but they had to come up with something unusual that would beat out Martha Stewart.
Summer was determined to find a way to beat Mrs. Beaverton, and re-throne her mother as rightly cookie queen of Kissing Bridge.
Summer had to think outside the box. Fluff wound around her legs purring loudly.
She bent down and pet him.
“Any ideas, Fluff? Don’t hold back.”
The cat was uncommunicative—as usual.
The doorbell rang. When Summer opened it, she nearly fell over.
It was Drake. He was dressed in a black cashmere sweater and matching pea coat. His scarf was a tasteful mix of deep grey tones, which set off his eyes perfectly. He looked exactly like the dazzling movie star he was.
“Darling!” He wrapped his arms around Summer and hugged her tight.
“Drake what, what are you doing here?’
“Well, you wouldn’t come to me. So I came to you!”
Summer stammered, “I thought you were in Los Angeles with your parents?”
Drake took in the Christmas decorations all over the Landers home. It looked like a Norman Rockwell card. Holiday tablecloths, hanging rows of ribbon strung with Christmas cards, a rather large blow up Santa, a full ceramic set of Mary and the baby Jesus in the stable. . .
Drake pulled out a bottle of Crystal. His brown eyes were mischievous.
“Let’s have a drink to celebrate my being here! I can’t wait to meet my new Mother-in-Law!”
Summer wished she had remembered to mention to her mother about Drake…and that she had gotten engaged.
Drake looked at her naked finger.
“Darling, where is your ring?”
Summer had taken off the ring after the first night she arrived home. She had been making cookies and hadn’t wanted to get cookie dough all over it. In the fury of the cookie battle, she had forgotten to put it back on.
“Oh, I didn’t want to get dough on it.” She explained.
“Dough?” Drake was confused.
Mom drove up outside. She looked at the long black sleek Mercedes parked in her driveway speckled with fresh snowflakes.
Young Wily Junior was walking up the Beaverton’s driveway next door with that laptop thing on his shoulder and a smirk on his face.
Mom knitted her brow as she opened the door to find Drake Mason, the movie star, at her kitchen counter pouring champagne.
“Hello?” she said quizzically…wondering where Summer was.
Drake turned around in one graceful spin, making a gallant picture in his perfectness. Give it to Drake; he was a great dresser.
“Mother!” he sang out gaily.
Mother looked him over. She liked his color choices.
Just then, Summer came in with some logs from outside for the fire.
“Mom! This is Drake…my…fiancé!”
Mother opened her mouth but nothing came out. . . thankfully.
She looked back and forth between the two of them. She’d have to deal with this later.
“Nice to meet you, Drake,” she said politely. Then she motioned to Summer to come talk to her in private.
They conferred by the fire. Mom whispered, “We’ve got a new problem.”
Summer raised an eyebrow.
“Aunt Carol overheard Marybelle McGregor’s mother say that a new star entry had been approved for the contest just this morning. She’s a wild card entry with no prior cookie contest experience but, she’s a Hell’s Kitchen TV show winner!”
Summer sucked her breath in and considered this new threat to their throne.
Between Drake showing up, and this new entry information, Summer’s head was swimming.
How could they beat ‘Evil Martha Stewart,’ as Summer now called her, and now a game show winner from Hell’s Kitchen as well?
Things weren’t looking good for the Landers’ cookie future.
Chapter 20
The Christmas Eve Silver Bells Fair was one of the highlights of Kissing Bridge Mountain.
All of the local artisans and shops showed up to sell their special items for the holiday season and to cater to the last-minute gift buyers. All of the local restaurants had booths selling the best of cold winter foods, soothing warm drinks and toasty tasty treats. Everyone loved the Kissing Bridge Silver Bells Christmas Eve Fair.
The highlight of the fair was, of course, the cookie contest. The contest began each year after the gift booths closed down, at four o’clock sharp. It heralded the end of shopping, and the beginning of the full-out Christmas celebration. Afterwards, everyone would go to Christmas Eve mass and then home to prepare for Santa’s arrival.
The Silver Bells Fair Cookie Contest was one of the most competitive sports in all of Vermont. Would-be bakers would travel for miles around to compete.
The various booth venders were readying and decorating their booths for the upcoming day. The fair was tomorrow and everyone was a-flurry, putting on last minute finishing touches.
Three young boys were erecting the scoreboard at the far end of the booths. It would show the odds of each of the contenders so the residents could place bets accordingly.
The Landers were gathered together in their corner booth. They still ranked a pivotal spot—despite last year’s horrible loss.
Mrs. Beaverton and Wily Junior were across the way. Mr. Beaverton was there as well. Summer thought Mr. Beaverton looked just like Santa, with his fat belly and all natural white beard.
Summer frowned. That seemed an unfair advantage. She hoped they’d keep him under cover during the actual competition.
The whole Beaverton family was beginning to gather now. Hoards of them arriving en masse and all came bearing decorations, lights, ornaments and . . . disco balls?
The Landers were still at odds on how best to outsmart Mrs. Beaverton and her professional ally, Evil Martha Stewart.
On top of that, they also seemed outnumbered in the decorating department.
Summer wasn’t sure what distressed her more—the upcoming competition, or the fact Drake had talked her into going to the Mistletoe Ski Event that night. She really was dying to ski. She loved skiing and she was very good at it too. Still, the horrible memories from that fateful night so long ago. . . still haunted her.
Chapter 21
It was December 23rd and the night of the Kissing Bridge Mistletoe Ski Event.
The snow was falling hard and a large full moon filled the night sky.
The tradition was for everyone to meet at the high school parking lot and leave their cars. Together they would take a group bus up the mountain to Eagle’s Peak Lodge.
They always hired a driver and the passengers started their pre-game activities in the back seats with flasks of hot cocoa laced with crème de menthe and Irish whiskey coffee.
Summer was not drinking, and Drake was drinking enough for both of them. Before long, Drake had the entire bus singing Christmas carols.
Brad and his girlfriend, Miss Big Boobs, were seated near the front. She was even more annoying to Summer than ever, as she continually stroked Brad’s face and stared all gooey-eyed at him.
At least he hadn’t brought Marybelle McGregor, the girl he had cheated on her with—Summer mused; that would have been too much for her to handle.
Brad and Marybelle had started dating ‘officially’ right after Summer left to model in New York. Marybelle had been the head cheerleader at their high school and always wanted to date Brad, the varsity quarterback. She had always found a way to affix herself to Brad in spite of the fact that Summer and Brad had been together for years. Be it on the game bus, at the pep rallies or out of town games, you could be assured Marybelle McGregor had her hands all over Brad Anderson. Summer knew that Marybelle was always looking for a way to break them up an
d have Brad for herself, so it was no surprise to her when they later ended up together.
The lodge at Eagle’s Peak ski resort was beautiful. The old redwood lodge was adorned with holly wreaths and bells and mistletoe. Large roaring fires blazed at each end.
In the center was the bar. That’s where Summer found herself with Drake. Drake didn’t ski, and Summer was beginning to regret that she had decided to come at all.
“Come on Drake, just try skiing. You’ll love it. Won’t you just try?!”
“I’m quite happy right here. I don’t need to break any legs before I leave for Athens on that shoot. James Dean did not have a broken leg!”
Summer cajoled him. “We’ll go easy down the bunny hill. You’ll love it, Drake. You won’t break anything…”
They were interrupted by a couple of older people who wanted Drake’s autograph.
Summer wasn’t giving up. She loved skiing. It was after all, the favorite pastime for the townspeople of Kissing Bridge. Everyone skied here. They down-hill skied for fun, and cross-country skied just to get around sometimes, depending if the roads were open or not.
“Drake, it means a lot to me. I’ve skied since I was four. I plan to teach our children some day and you—”
Drake laughed and cut her off.
“Oh Summer, you are so adorable. You’re the only child I need to take care of.”
Summer was confused.
“I’m not a child, Drake.”
He smiled at her indulgently. “Of course you’re not, Darling. It’s just you need a lot of attention and I’m perfectly happy to be the one who gives it to you. I just don’t see real kids in our future.”
Summer’s head began to swim.
Why had she assumed he wanted a big family like she did? He wasn’t a guy from Kissing Bridge. He was Drake Mason, movie star Peter-Pan-Man, with his perfect clothes and his perfect penthouse! Of course there was no room for messy children in his life.
“But…but…” Summer stammered. “I want children very badly, Drake. I’d hoped you would want to start a family right away. I’m already 28. I assumed that’s what you wanted too…”
Drake smoothed her hair and looked into her big blue eyes, and delivered the ultimate blow.
“Summer, you’re not made to be a mom. You’re made to be a model. That’s why we’re perfect for each other. I’ll get you a dog.”
Chapter 22
Summer was speechless.
“I’m going to go ski, Drake. I’ll see you later.”
She trudged out the large wooden door and avoided looking at Brad and Miss Big Boobs.
Soon she was outside in the snowy wonderland.
The cold breeze on her face felt good. The snow was coming down really hard. Summer could barely see in front of her as she made her way to the ski lift.
A group of old school friends were already waiting in line. She chatted amiably with Jodie Morrison, as they moved along in line beside each other. Their words made little frozen clouds as they spoke. Jodie’s brood of boys kept running up and asking their mom for food and money for the games.
Summer noticed that Brad was also in line behind her. For a moment she thought she caught Brad looking at her.
The last time they had been here had been the end of her and Brad.
All the memories she had hoped to flee came flooding back to her as if the ten years had never passed.
She had been so happy that Christmas. That year Brad had helped the Landers decorate their booth and it had been the most beautiful booth they had ever had. Brad had become an expert on cookie competition decorating, as he had been dating Summer since Freshman year.
That night of the first Kissing Bridge Mistletoe Ski Event was magical. They had been on the lift headed for the top of the mountain. They both loved to ski and it was a stunning night for it. As the snow glistened below them and they were lifted up into the starry night, Brad had surprised her with a real Tiffany ring and proposed!
Of course, he knew the Landers women’s penchant for Tiffany, and so this ring—albeit a chip of a diamond—meant all the more. They were truly made for each other. It had been the best day of her life.
By the time they had reached the top of the hill, they had planned their whole future together. They both wanted five kids. Brad was going to give up his dream of commercial flying and work for his dad’s logging company. Summer was going to home school their children and teach them to ski—and make cookies, of course!
It was the happiest Christmas she could ever remember. That was, until Summer had learned the truth.
Then her whole world fell apart.
She thought back to that dreaded Christmas Eve morning. Summer had woken up to the sun glinting off her new engagement ring. She was over the moon in love.
In honor of the new engagement, Mom had put Breakfast at Tiffany’s on the TV while they prepared the dough. They had been in the midst of last-minute cookie details, as usual this time of year, when Aunt Carol arrived.
Aunt Carol had run out to the Super-Duper to get more milk for the dough but had come back empty-handed. Summer had known there was something wrong right away.
Her usual gay face was solemn, and she was speechless for a long while. When Aunt Carol finally spoke, she apologized to be delivering sad news.
The Landers ladies gathered around the kitchen table and Aunt Carol had taken Summer’s hand in support. She confessed that she had overheard in the apple section that Brad had kissed Marybelle McGregor under the Mistletoe.
She had heard it straight from the lodge keeper himself, Earl. Of course he hadn’t been talking to her. He’d been talking to Mr. Jennings, but Aunt Carol had caught every word.
Apparently ‘the kiss’ had occurred just after Brad had given Summer the ring and proposed.
Brad’s buddies had dragged him to the bar for a congratulatory beer, and Summer had wanted to take one more run down the hill before they left.
From what Aunt Carol heard, he had kissed Marybelle under the mistletoe to quite a crowd of onlookers.
For once, all the Landers ladies had been utterly speechless.
That had been the saddest Christmas Eve ever.
Summer had been so upset, that she had not even been able to attend the cookie competition; a first for the family.
After the tragic news, Summer had gone through all the stages of death. Shock, disbelief, depression. She wanted to believe it wasn’t true, but she couldn’t.
Aunt Carol’s eavesdropping was never wrong.
Brad had kissed another woman while Summer had been blindly and blissfully skiing down the mountain and dreaming about their life together.
Brad, the cheater, denied everything. He hadn’t kissed Marybelle, the head cheerleader. He hadn’t cheated.
He lied.
Summer refused to take his calls, laden with lies.
That Christmas Day had passed with Summer staring blindly at her new rose-colored walls—courtesy of her mother—and trying not to die from a broken heart.
Of course, like all Landers ladies, she had taken to the bed. Her mom and Aunt Carol were so worried, they decided to take to the bed with her. They had hauled in the big screen TV into her bedroom, and climbed into bed along side her for the duration. The three of them had commenced to watch a Breakfast at Tiffany’s marathon for an entire week. Many cookies and pastries had been consumed and tears dried.
When Summer finally emerged from the bed, it was to a new destiny. She went over to Main Street to get a coffee at Starbucks and unknowingly plunked herself down right next to a New York City model scout for the famous ‘Elite’ agency. He took one look at her sipping her peppermint latte, and signed her up on the spot.
She’d left Kissing Bridge Mountain the next day and was soon one of the highest paid models in the world.
Now all the memories she had hoped to flee came flooding back with a vengeance.
When she looked up, Brad was staring at her. She couldn’t read his grey eyes. Nor co
uld she turn away.
The snow continued to come down hard.
Jodie pulled Summer’s attention away from Brad and motioned to the lift.
“Shoot. It looks like they’re closing it down. There’s a big storm coming in. I’m gonna get the boys home before they shut down the roads.”
Summer looked at the walls of white snow beginning to pile up.
“Gosh darn it, I haven’t skied in years!”
Jodi waved goodbye. “Merry Christmas, Summer!”
Summer waved back.
She wasn’t giving up on her dream of skiing. If she had to deal with her feelings, at least she was going to get some satisfaction.
She approached the young man working at the ski lift. He was shutting down and putting up the CLOSED sign.
Summer looked at him with her big blue eyes.
“Is there anyway you’d let an old Kissing Bridge local have just one last ride before you close down? I’ve been in L.A. a long time and this snow is epic!” She smiled her famous smile.
The boy was overwhelmed. “Hey are you that Sports Illustrated girl?”
Summer smiled. “That’s me.”
“Oh, wow! Well, I can’t let our hometown star go away without a ride on her home run. Sure, get on this last chair and then I’ll shut it down. It’s getting bad out there… You’re an experienced skier, right?”
Summer made her way onto the lift. “Been doing it all my life. Believe me, I’ll be safe.”
The boy yelled out to the thinning crowd that still remained in line.
“Last ride. Sorry. We’ll reopen after the snow clears. There’s a bad storm coming in.”
Summer settled into the lift and looked at the mountain ahead of her imagining a good ride down the mountain with perfect powder conditions. It was just what she needed to clear her head.
She pulled on her ski glasses and fixed her scarf. She considered her ugly orange mittens and wished she had bought proper gloves in Manhattan. Just as the lift started up, she felt a heavy thud land next to her.