The Winter Wedding Plan--An unforgettable story of love, betrayal, and sisterhood

by Olivia Miles

  And wasn’t that depressing? She’d dared to think perhaps this Christmas she and Simon might be engaged. And instead, she had nothing to look forward to but a poinsettia delivery tomorrow. And she didn’t even like poinsettias. In fact, she rather hated the look of them.

  Right. The slippery slope. No going there. After all, the night was hers! She could fill it however she wished! She could slip into her least flattering yet comfiest pajamas, heat up a mug of cider, add of splash of something extra, and watch a movie.

  Or…she could do a drive-by of Simon’s parents’ house.

  It wasn’t that outrageous, after all. She was practically passing by it on her way back into town, give or take a mile or two.

  She pulled up to the stop sign and flicked her blinker. Soon, she was cruising down Glen Oak Drive, at roughly four miles an hour, her eyes scanning the left side of the street. Her breath caught when she spotted his car, a black newer-model Volvo, and in panic, she pressed her foot on the accelerator, barely managing a look-see as she whizzed past at a rate that wasn’t common on residential streets.

  Her heart was still pounding when she turned onto the next street, which carried her back to the main road. He was there. At his parents’ house. Of course he was. It was Thanksgiving!

  But was he alone? Or had he brought a date? Last Thanksgiving they hadn’t felt that they knew each other well enough to share the holidays. But that wouldn’t stop him from having a change of heart this time around.

  She turned back onto the main road, in the opposite direction of home, and this time, kept her slow pace as she turned back down Glen Oak, her tires crunching on the frozen pavement, the radio on low.

  The lights were on in the house, and she could make out some people in the back room. The dining room, perhaps? Most likely. There was a man and…

  Damn it! She’d passed the house. Too late to see now. Still, she felt reassured with her findings. Nothing wild going on in there. Simon was probably in the kitchen, helping his mother clean up. Or in the study, having a drink with his dad.

  Or in his childhood bedroom, getting busy with her replacement.

  She followed the street up to the main road and stopped at the stop sign. She flicked her signal in the direction of home, chewing on her bottom lip as she waited for the traffic to clear.

  The radio switched over to a Christmas song, one of the sad ones designed to remind people that merry Christmases weren’t for everyone.

  She switched it off and gripped the steering wheel tighter.

  Well, maybe just one more lap around the block.

  Chapter Three

  At ten o’clock Sunday morning, Charlotte swerved to a stop in front of Bree’s house, only at that point realizing that their plans had been made for eleven. She cursed under her breath, then, alarmed, glanced up at the rearview mirror to see if Audrey had caught any of Mommy’s potty talk. But Audrey was sound asleep. Of course. Daytime was her favorite time to sleep. She was nocturnal, Charlotte had come to realize. And Charlotte was running on empty, and clearly not thinking straight.

  She eyed the clock on the dashboard, deciding if she should use the hour to grab a coffee in town or take a nap in the car, when she heard her name being called, and there was Bree, standing in the doorway, clutching a steaming mug in both hands, beckoning her to hurry up already.

  Charlotte blinked in confusion. Maybe it had been ten o’clock after all. Right. Another thing to add to her resolutions. Starting today, she’d keep a calendar. And this time she wouldn’t just say she was going to keep it; this time she would actually stick with it. Cross things off and everything. She could hardly wait.

  Buoyed by the thought of getting things back under control, she killed the engine. Audrey didn’t stir as she released the car seat from its base and hooked it over her forearm. The walk up the stone path to Bree’s front door was short, and despite the flurries that were starting to dance in the wind, a few colorful potted mums still anchored the front stoop.

  “Asleep?” Bree asked, glancing down at Audrey and giving her an adoring smile. She shook her head as she closed the door behind them. “Aren’t you lucky, Charlotte. I have a friend who said her baby never sleeps.”

  Charlotte gave her cousin a long, hard stare, and fought with her mouth not to say something fresh. Bree didn’t have a clue. But then, she supposed she hadn’t either…until recently.

  “Audrey is a good baby,” she agreed as she set the carrier down on the floor so she could remove her shoes.

  “A good baby? She’s perfect!” Bree used the opportunity to crouch and get a better look at Audrey. Charlotte winced as her cousin fiddled with the blanket and cooed over the pink snowsuit she’d given as an impromptu gift, which did look rather adorable on the baby. Audrey’s eyelids fluttered, and for a moment Charlotte felt a twinge of panic. She just needed ten minutes…five even!

  “She is perfect.” Charlotte grinned. “But I do wish she’d sleep more at night.”

  “Can’t you nap when she naps?” Bree stood and shrugged, as if it were just that obvious.

  Charlotte stopped unbuttoning her coat, counted to three, and pulled in a measured breath. She’d used the same trick last week when Bree had complained about only getting five hours of sleep due to a rush of holiday orders. “I suppose I could. If I wasn’t at work.”

  “But weekends?”

  There was no use arguing. “Weekends, sure.” Because of course she could get by on a few hours of sleep. Two days a week.

  Her eyelids began to droop as she hung her coat in the small closet Bree had crammed with coats for every season, and what seemed like every pair of shoes she owned, too, right down to her leopard-print stilettos, which Charlotte hoped to borrow someday, if she ever had occasion to wear them, that is. Right now, she’d happily trade a proper night of sleep for a fancy restaurant.

  She eyed the creamy off-white living room sofa eagerly as they rounded the corner. What she wouldn’t give to lie down right now, just rest her head for a moment on one of Bree’s colorful throw pillows. Instead she motioned to Bree’s mug. “Any more of that, by chance?”

  “A whole pot in the kitchen.” Bree grinned. “And I have your favorite flavor of creamer, too.”

  Ah, bless her. Charlotte had been sleeping even worse than usual since the big Thanksgiving announcement, but this morning brought a new source of hope. This morning, she was going to ask Bree if she could move in here. Temporarily.

  After all, the place was far too big for just one person. It had once belonged to Bree’s paternal grandmother, who’d taken a special liking to her only granddaughter over her many grandsons (once a prickly issue during holiday gatherings that had eventually faded to a family joke) and gave Bree not only her flower shop but also her home. It had taken more than a year since her passing for Bree to take occupancy of the old cedar-sided Colonial. At first, Charlotte had assumed that Bree didn’t want to take liberties, or perhaps couldn’t bear to part with some of the antique items, but as she followed her cousin down the hall that led to the kitchen, she began to wonder…

  Boxes of all sizes lined the passageway, confining the space to single-file, none visibly marked, but all haphazardly arranged. Inside the kitchen, cans of paint were stacked on the island and several of the oak cabinets were missing their doors. Bree said nothing as she casually reached for a mug from an open shelf, as if the house weren’t in some strange sense of disarray, and nothing was amiss.

  “Are you…painting?” Charlotte latched on to the most obvious and motioned toward the paint cans.

  Bree smiled. “Renovating.” She reached for the coffeepot and filled a mug for Charlotte before topping herself off.

  “The kitchen?” Charlotte inquired, wondering if the boxes in the hall meant she had finally gotten around to that attic.

  “The entire house!” Bree beamed, as if this was the most natural statement she could make at ten in the morning, when Charlotte was running on about three hours of sleep in twenty-four hour
s. When she was hoping to move in. To a construction site. With a baby. A baby who could crawl.

  Her hand shook a little as she reached for the vanilla creamer that Bree set on the counter. Her cousin kept one on hand in her flower shop, too, for Charlotte’s frequent visits: some professional errands, but most of a more personal nature.

  But in all their recent chats, she’d failed to mention this.

  “You hired a local crew then?” Charlotte asked pleasantly. Maybe it would be finished quickly, she dared to hope. After all, the house was in decent enough shape. Or at least it had been, as of last month, when Charlotte had brought Audrey over for a much-needed stop on their trick-or-treat run. Bree had fussed over Audrey in her pumpkin costume and added five extra candies to the trick-or-treat bag, which of course Charlotte later consumed on the couch in her apartment, relishing that little parenting perk.

  “Oh, no. That would be much too expensive!” Bree clucked her tongue. “I’m doing it myself.”

  “Yourself?” Charlotte closed her gaping mouth. Bree looked so proud. Who was she to burst her bubble?

  “Yup. Come see what I’m doing to the master bath. I’ve been watching videos on my laptop, taking down notes. You’d be amazed what you can learn off the internet! How to clean a furnace. How to anchor a heavy mirror to plaster walls! You should see me with my drill. I’ve even learned how to spot asbestos. And it’s a good thing I did.” She chuckled knowingly.

  Oh, dear God. Bracing herself, Charlotte grabbed her mug and retraced her path through the front hall and up the winding stairs to the top landing, her eyes widening with each step. A ladder was facedown on the floor, next to an open toolbox, and she caught the glint of sunlight reflecting off some spilled nails. Gingerly climbing over the equipment, she followed Bree into the master bedroom, trying to murmur some encouragement and support, but all words were lost when she spotted the open door to the bathroom.

  What once had been wall tile of an ancient, peachy hue was now exposed pipes and irregularly shaped holes where drywall had been. A few tiles remained. “Couldn’t get those off for the life of me. Yet,” Bree explained, without having to be asked, and Charlotte’s head started to spin when she saw that her cousin was still grinning.

  “How long is all this going to take?” she finally asked.

  Bree shrugged. “I don’t know. However long it does, I suppose.”

  Oh, the luxury. To live without a care in the world. To live only for yourself and your own whims.

  Charlotte backed away from the bathroom door after noticing the loose wires and enormous hole where a light fixture and medicine cabinet had once hung. “Well. This is quite a project.” To put it mildly…

  Bree nodded. “I’m learning as I go. Part of home ownership!”

  Was it? Charlotte wasn’t so sure.

  “Besides,” Bree said, a little more subdued. “It gives me something to do.”

  “But you have the flower shop,” Charlotte said, puzzled.

  “In the evenings, I meant.” Bree gave a little sigh, and looked around the room. “It was overdue for a change, anyway.”

  Charlotte gave a little smile. Of course. Bree was lonely. And who wouldn’t be living in this big old house all by herself? Moving in with Audrey would have been the perfect solution for everyone…if it wasn’t a gigantic safety hazard.

  She felt her shoulders drop. Gone were the fantasies she had of watching chick flicks with Bree, having someone to talk to at the end of the day, surrounding Audrey with family at Christmastime.

  She’d just have to figure something else out.

  “How’s business going, by the way?” she ventured as she gripped the stair rail tightly, following Bree back downstairs to the living room, her eyes scanning for stray nails or loose floorboards.

  “The holidays are always busy, but I have seasonal help lined up.”

  So much for picking up a few extra weekend shifts at the flower shop. Charlotte was happy to see that Audrey was still sleeping as she settled into an armchair near the fireplace and sipped her coffee. She supposed it was time to discuss the reason she was here. Technically. “I received all the RSVP notes. It looks like everyone can make Kate’s shower next weekend.”

  “Oh, good!” Bree perked up. “And I talked to Elizabeth and she’s excited she’ll be hosting. No doubt she’s been looking for another opportunity to use all her wedding registry goods.”

  Charlotte managed a wan smile. Elizabeth was her sister’s best friend, and while they’d always had a close relationship, she felt a little uneasy in her company these days. Still, she thought as she rearranged the cushion behind her back, careful not to spill her coffee, she wouldn’t let that interfere with Kate’s wedding shower. Nothing could interfere with it. Not on her watch.

  “She thinks I’m picking her up to go to a movie that night,” Bree continued. “Alec has promised not to spill a word and to keep William entertained for the evening.”

  Charlotte knew she should be happy that Bree was so on top of things, but she couldn’t help but frown a little. Kate was her sister, after all, and she had hoped to use this wedding shower as a way to bridge the gap between them and set the right tone for this upcoming wedding. The kind that said, I’m your sister, your pinnacle of support, the one who will do anything and everything to make this perfect for you. And now she was just a guest. At Elizabeth’s house. She wouldn’t even have a say in the decorations.

  She took another sip of coffee, telling herself not to get sensitive. What mattered was that Kate had a good time.

  “I’m happy to oversee the menu—”

  “Already on it!” Bree said, leaning over to hand Charlotte a sheet of paper from a stack she had on the coffee table. “Everyone’s offered to bring something.”

  Charlotte scanned the list to see what she could contribute that hadn’t already been taken. The only spot open was for drinks. Well, how boring was that? She may as well be in charge of napkins.

  “You’re not upset that I went ahead and got things moving, are you? I know you’re busy with the baby, and I hated to add more to your plate, and well…It gives me something to do.” Bree looked a little rattled for a moment, and Charlotte eyed her carefully.

  “It’s not easy getting over someone.” Wasn’t that the truth? Even though Jake’s behavior, from start to finish, had been deplorable, there was still a part of her that wished the phone would ring and he would apologize and say that he wanted to be a real family. That he was ready for midnight feedings, diaper changes, and all the other not-so-glamorous stuff you never really consider before you have a baby.

  Yes, she thought it. When she was lying in bed at night, just about to drift off, and Audrey started to whimper…she thought it. And when she was walking down Harbor Street on Sunday mornings and saw all those sappy, happy couples at Jojo’s Café, eating pancake breakfasts, she thought it. And she wanted it. There. It was out. She wanted Jake to pick up that phone and call her and apologize. Or turn up at her door with about five dozen red roses and a bashful grin and…tears in his eyes. Oh yes, there needed to be tears. In fact, she wanted him sobbing into those roses.

  Pathetic. Really, pathetic. And definitely not something she would admit aloud.

  “It’s fine. Fine.” Bree’s smile was unnaturally bright. “Besides, now that I’m not busy primping for dates or shaving my legs, I have all this extra time to finally get this house in order.”

  Get the house in order? More like create a giant mess.

  “Well, I for one think it’s great that you have such a positive attitude. There’s far too much expectation that a woman’s life is not complete until she’s landed a man. I like to think I’m setting a far better role model for my daughter by showing her that I can be a strong independent woman.” But was she? Charlotte gulped her coffee. It was liberating to make such an announcement, but not true per se, was it? It wasn’t like she was exactly standing on her own two feet, after all. And she wasn’t independent either. But she was
swinging it on her own.

  What choice did she have?

  “Good for you, Charlotte,” Bree said earnestly. “If I had a drink, I’d toast to that, but I’ve cut myself off from wine until at least noon.” She laughed.

  Charlotte nodded her sympathy. “You just need to establish a new routine.”

  “I know it’s crazy. But we were together for a year and…I thought I’d be over it by now.”

  “I understand.” And she did. Far better than she’d ever led her cousin—or anyone else—to believe. It was bad enough that she’d fallen for Jake’s charms, believing him when he’d sidled up next to her in a bar one early summer night, claiming Kate had broken his heart, when it was later determined that it was all part of his plan to call off the wedding. It was even worse when she’d let Jake buy her a few rounds, and blushed when he’d told her how pretty she was, how much better she was making him feel. It was downright stupid of her to accept his ride home, when she knew darn well what he meant by that. But it was downright foolish to ever think that he’d be excited to learn he was going to be a father.

  And it was nothing short of pathetic that she’d followed him back to Boston a few weeks later, thinking he’d eventually have a change of heart.

  Yes, a part of her still held on to that glimmer of hope. But did Bree—or anyone else for that matter—need to know that? After what Jake had done to her sister, then her, well, she’d probably be told she needed to have her head examined.

  “At least you have your baby to keep you busy,” Bree said cheerfully. “And Kate’s wedding, I’m sure.”

  Kate! Charlotte had almost forgotten. She glanced at her watch, her heart slowing when she realized she still had fifteen minutes to spare. “I’m supposed to meet my sister at my parents’ house soon. They’re packing up today.”

  Bree shook her head. “Right before the holidays. But they’ll be back. And you and Kate have each other.”