“In my opinion this is the absolute best time to ask.” Her friend turned to face her, giving her no escape. “Can you do this? Can you be who that woman wants you to be? Can you be who Gregory wants you to be and still be happy for the rest of your life?”
The words twisted the knife on the stab of doubt she’d been trying so hard to ignore over the last month. If it were only she and Gregory they were talking about, she had no doubt they could be happy. But with his family, it would likely never be just she and Gregory.
Syd leveled her with an honest stare. “I’m asking because I can’t imagine spending one day with that woman, let alone the rest of my life.”
“I won’t be spending the rest of my life with her.” Even as she said it, Rose knew it wasn’t true. Gregory might complain about his mother behind her back, but he tended to do everything he could to keep her happy. Their family had to live up to certain expectations, his mother always said. And Evaline had been trying to convince Rose and Gregory to move into the guest quarters on their estate after they got married. “Maybe we’ll move away.”
“And leave the family business?” Syd looked skeptical. “Isn’t Gregory next in line to take his father’s throne?” Her friend pronounced the words with a British accent.
She rolled her eyes at the theatrics. “He is supposed to take over as CEO eventually, yes.” Ever since Gregory had graduated from business school, his father had been grooming him to take over the family’s fast-food conglomerate as well as run their growing portfolio of professional sports teams. “But his father won’t retire anytime soon, trust me. So maybe we’ll live somewhere else for a few years.” Wouldn’t that be a dream? Just she and Gregory off on their own. She could start her design business anywhere, and, surely he could easily find a job being a Cunningham and all…
“Would Gregory ever go somewhere else?” Leave it to Syd to always ask the hard questions. “Would he walk away from his family?”
No. The answer came right from Rose’s gut. Not for her. Not for anyone.
“You need to make sure, Rose,” Syd said quietly. “It’s not too late for you to call off the wedding. I’m not saying you should. But you need to make sure this is what you want for your life.”
“It is.” Or it was. Oh, mercy, she didn’t know. Why did it all have to be so confusing? Why couldn’t she just be with the man she loved? “It’s too late to reconsider anything. Everything’s already planned. The invitations have gone out…”
“It’s not too late until you say ‘I do,’” her friend insisted. “Maybe you should take some time to think things through. Give yourself some space. Hey!” Her eyes lit. “You could go to your aunt’s place. It’s perfect! She wanted you to come out anyway.”
Syd had been over helping her look up ideas for the bridesmaids’ dresses when Rose had received her aunt’s package. Her friend had been intrigued that Rose had an aunt she knew nothing about. But maybe Syd was right. Rose thought about Sassy’s note, about the angel sitting on her counter at home. You always had such a sense of style… It’s no wonder you’ve gotten to where you are today, starting your own design firm… How would she ever start her own design firm without the support of her husband? Of her family? “Evaline has us all booked over the holidays.” She’d lost track of the parties and the galas and the charity events she and Gregory were supposed to make appearances at.
Syd hopped off the bathroom counter and stood facing her. “Didn’t you say your aunt is dying? Sounds like the perfect excuse to disappear for a while.”
“I’d love to be there for her.” She had no idea why her mother and Sassy had a falling out all those years ago, but her aunt had never had children of her own and she obviously needed help. She’d tried to talk to her sisters about the letter, but they were all so busy, they’d been playing phone tag. “I don’t know if there’s any way I can make it happen though. Not with all of these events I’m supposed to attend with Gregory.” Evaline would have a conniption if she left town.
“At some point you need to start standing up for yourself,” Syd insisted. “If you want to go visit your aunt go. You’re not married yet. Gregory could survive one Christmas without you.”
“I guess.” Any anyway, how could she say no to her aunt? Surely Gregory would understand. “It sounds like my sister is going. My aunt specifically asked all three of us.” According to Dahlia’s last message, she had decided to visit Sassy. Maybe the Juniper Inn would provide Rose with the perfect escape. She hadn’t been there in years, but she still remembered her aunt’s beautiful boutique resort in Colorado. She remembered stumbling out of the cramped car with her sisters and feeling like she’d stepped into the pages of a storybook, someplace magical and removed from the rest of the world. The resort had eight gingerbread house–like cabins nestled in the trees, and a perfectly lovely pond for ice-skating. Oh, it had been so long, but she could still almost smell those pine trees. The inn had been a place she’d wandered and laughed and dreamed with her sisters. Her heart swelled just thinking about it. “I think a trip to Colorado is exactly what I need right now.”
“Atta girl.” Syd gave her a supportive pat. “I’d go with you but—”
The door flew open and Lillian charged into the bathroom. “Rose Marie, just what do you think you’re doing?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “Evaline has a busy schedule, and you’re chitchatting in here. Don’t you know how this looks?”
“Like she had to go to the bathroom?” Syd asked.
Lillian fixed her scorching gaze on Rose’s best friend. “Will you give us a moment, please, sugar?” she asked in full Southern decorum.
“If I must.” Her friend started to back toward the door. Once she was behind Lillian, she mouthed Stay strong and flexed her biceps.
Right. Stay strong. Unfortunately, that was much harder to do without reinforcements.
Once the door had opened and closed, Rose’s mother closed her eyes in a dramatic pause. Rose knew from past experience this was her mother’s way of collecting herself, so she leaned against the sparkling marble countertop to wait.
“Evaline thinks you’re having doubts.” Lillian finally opened her eyes, staring at Rose as though trying to analyze her. “But I told her that’s not true. You’re not having doubts. What is there to doubt?” She walked over and smoothed her hand over Rose’s hair. “Gregory is the best thing that has ever happened to you. He’s smart and he’s handsome and he will be able to provide for you for the rest of your life.”
All true. And yet…he hadn’t wanted to sneak out to Tybee Island with her earlier…
“That man is more than your father and I could have ever dreamed for you…” Sighing loudly, Lillian snatched a tissue from the golden box on the counter and dabbed at her eyes. Her mother always cried when she talked about their father. “If your daddy was still here, he’d be ecstatic about this wedding.”
“I know.” But he wasn’t here. He’d passed away four years ago after having a stroke. And Rose had hardly left her mother’s side since. Being a businessman much like Gregory, her father probably would’ve loved her fiancé. They would’ve played golf together. They would’ve talked business and profit margins and stock options. “I’m not having doubts.” For some reason, she always lied when her mother started to cry. She said whatever she had to in order to make things better. “It’s all a little overwhelming, that’s all.” The wedding, sure, but also what would come after.
“I know it might feel overwhelming.” Lillian reached into her purse and pulled out a compact, proceeding to powder Rose’s forehead for her. “But, sweet pea, hiding in the bathroom isn’t going to help. Especially when Evaline is out there waiting. You’re only overwhelmed because we still have so much to do. You haven’t found a dress and we’re running out of time before the holidays. Once we check things off the list, you’ll feel better.”
Yes, but would she be able to check Evaline’s controlling nature off the list? That’s what had started to grate on her mor
e than the wedding details.
“Speaking of the holidays,” her mom went on, handing her a lipstick. “Evaline wanted you to decide on the cake before Christmas. That way the order won’t get lost in the rush they’re bound to have in the next few weeks. Should I make an appointment with the baker we liked for next week? Evaline will have to approve it—”
“No.” The word came out harsher than she meant it to, but it was almost a relief. Rose shoved the lipstick back into her hands. “Next week won’t work. I won’t be here next week. I have to go out of town for a while.”
“Out of town?” Her mother lowered her voice as though afraid Evaline was listening outside the door. Which she probably was. “Whatever for?”
At first Syd’s idea to get away had sounded crazy, like wishful thinking, but now getting away felt like it was the only thing that could save her. “Sassy got in touch with me. And Mags and Dahlia.” She watched her mom’s face carefully. She had the loveliest skin tone—olive and smooth—but those familiar worry lines had appeared around her eyes.
“Sassy contacted you?” Rose couldn’t tell if the wobble in her mother’s tone was anger or fear. “What does she want?”
Originally Rose had wondered whether she should tell Lillian about the letter. She hadn’t wanted to get her all worked up. But there was no going back now. “She wants us to come see her. Honestly, it sounds like she might not be doing so well. She asked us to spend Christmas with her, and—”
“That’s impossible.” Her mother turned away, but not in time to hide her obvious shock. “You absolutely cannot go.”
“Why not?” Rose stepped around to face her. “What happened between you two? Why did we stop going out to see her?”
“That is none of your business.” Her mother pressed her fingers to her forehead as though she had a headache coming on. “You can’t leave right now. Not when the Cunningham family needs you here. I forbid it. You can’t ruin this chance, Rose.”
Defiance rushed through her. She never told Lillian no. She always did what her mother asked. Maybe because Rose was all her mother had. Dahlia lived in Minnesota and Mags hardly ever visited from Florida. They hadn’t been here when their father had died. They’d come for the funeral, but Rose was the one who’d sat up all night with her mother while she’d sobbed. Rose was the one who’d begged her to get out of bed those horrific weeks after they’d lost him and her sisters had gone back to their lives.
But she had to do this. She had to be there for her aunt. She had to get away and clear her head. “I’m sorry, but I’m going,” she told her mother. “Sassy needs us, and I need to go.”
She had to make sure the life she was walking toward was the one she truly wanted.
Chapter Four
Magnolia
The flowers showed up right on schedule. Ten o’clock on the nose, well after the morning rush. Magnolia Buchanan-Diaz saw the delivery girl coming from all the way down the block. A bouquet of lush red roses and crisp white magnolias and full-bodied yellow dahlias plumed from a blown-glass vase the same variegated turquoise and blue color as the sea across the road from where her mobile bakery sat.
The arrangement earned a gasp from her assistant Coral, who had been wiping up the espresso machine until the flowers came into view. “Oh, my gawd. Eric sent you flowers again, didn’t he?” She tossed the rag onto the counter, a literal throwing in of the towel. “He did. He’s always sending you flowers. Such a romantic! And I can’t even find a guy who’ll call the next morning.” That might be true, but since Coral was in her early twenties, she still had plenty of time to find the right man.
It was, however, too late for Magnolia. Eric had called twelve times that morning, leaving message after message apologizing and begging her to come home so they could talk, but Mags couldn’t bring herself to respond. Now, she simply watched the flowers bob closer and closer until the delivery girl stood right in front of the bakery’s open window. They were beautiful flowers, so colorful and vibrant, but she couldn’t enjoy them anymore. Eric always went to great lengths to choose the arrangement, selecting roses, magnolias, and dahlias to remind her of the sisters she rarely got to see anymore. The first time he’d sent flowers after they’d argued about the cost of the fertility treatments they were doing, it had sent Magnolia running back into his arms, but after too many apology bouquets now the sight of one made her want to turn and run away. Away from him. Away from them…
“Delivery for Magnolia Buchanan-Diaz,” the delivery girl said baring a peppy I’m-here-to-make-your-day smile. She was probably used to gasps of surprise and exclamations of joy when she presented her offerings, but Magnolia couldn’t muster the energy for any of that nonsense. She’d slept in her car last night and had been walking around all morning in a numb, sleep-deprived fog.
“Where do I sign?” Magnolia asked, not bothering to look at the card. She already knew what it said. I’m sorry. Please come home so we can talk. She couldn’t go home. Not after last night. Not after this argument. This one had changed something. It had forced a part of her to completely shut down. Usually she came away from one of their quarrels feeling angry or sad, but now she felt nothing. Empty. Hollow. Detached.
The delivery girl frowned slightly, confusion pulling at her young features. But she handed over an iPad. “You can sign right there.”
With her hand trembling, Magnolia scribbled something illegible across the line and handed it back to her. “Thanks.” She felt bad for her flat reaction, so she quickly bagged up the last of the white chocolate raspberry muffins. Better that than her finishing them off later. “Take these for the road,” she said, handing them over across the counter. “On the house.”
That seemed to erase all traces of disappointment in the young woman’s expression. “Really? Thanks! I’ve heard people say your stuff is the best, but I’ve never had the chance to try anything.”
“Well, in that case…” Magnolia eyed the baskets, which had nearly been picked empty over the course of the morning. “You really have to try the lemon scone.” She bagged one up. “And these petite birthday cake donuts.”
“Wow!” The girl shoved the iPad into a satchel that was draped across her body and gathered up the bags. “You’re the best. Thanks so much! I’ll totally tell everyone to come here!” Digging her hand into one of the sacks, she turned around and started munching on the scone as she walked away. “This is amazing!” she called over her shoulder. “Best scone I’ve ever eaten!”
“Have a nice day.” Magnolia sent her off with a wave, but the compliments lingered, filling the cold hollowness still left over from her fight with Eric. That’s how she knew this was what she was meant to do—to feed people sweets and treats, to fill them with a happiness that fueled her own. That’s why she’d taken out the loan from her parents to start her own bakery.
Oh, Lordy. Her parents. What would her mother say if she knew the truth about her marriage? Actually, Mags already knew the answer. Her mother came from a long line of carefully groomed wives. It’s your job to make your husband happy, Lillian liked to say. Well, Magnolia had made Eric happy once upon a time. She’d thought they had the perfect marriage. There’d been passion and spontaneity. When she would come home from working at the bakery on Eric’s days off, he’d surprise her with elaborate dates he’d secretly planned—scavenger hunts around the city and picnics on their favorite stretch of beach. She would try to outdo his surprises—cooking him dinner wearing only an apron and buying tickets to hockey games where they both screamed themselves hoarse rooting for the underdog. But that was before the lost pregnancies, the failed fertility treatments, the attempts at trying to be okay with it all.
“My God, these flowers are beautiful.” Coral pressed her entire face into the bouquet and inhaled deeply. “I swear your husband always has great taste, but he really outdid himself this time, didn’t he?”
“You could say that.” Mags lifted the hefty arrangement and carted it to the back counter where it would
be out of way for the after-dinner dessert rush. She’d already made a full arsenal of cupcakes, which was what she was best known for—chocolate mint, salted caramel, s’mores, and another round of pumpkin spice, even though fall had somehow moved to the rearview mirror. Yesterday she’d sold out of those babies in less than an hour, so she’d made a double batch today. It took her mind off things—the baking, the mixing, the measuring. It was so easy to follow recipes, so formulaic. There were no decisions to be made, no questioning what was right. She could just move about freely, doing what she loved, caught up in something that promised to rescue her from her crushed hopes. If only it could rescue her marriage, too.
“Call me crazy, but you don’t seem exactly thrilled about the flowers.” Coral poured herself another mug of black coffee and leaned into the counter next to Mags, peering up at her with a pair of questioning green eyes. “What’s up? You’re not yourself today. You seem…” She paused as though she wanted to choose her words carefully. “Subdued.”
It happened to be the perfect description of how she felt. Subdued. Smothered under a blanket of her own disappointment. Lately it had started to suffocate her. After their most recent failed in vitro attempt, desperation had kicked in. Last night she’d made Eric a nice dinner—fresh grilled scallops and a creamy Parmesan risotto. He’d already been in a bad mood because the water heater went out again, so she’d wanted to cheer him up, to lure him out of the grumpiness so they could talk about trying for another baby.
He’d picked at the food and hardly responded when she’d brought up going back to the doctor. Four failed in vitro attempts didn’t mean they would never get pregnant, she’d reminded him. We can try again…
“Seriously. You okay, girl?” Coral asked glancing at her with concern. “You don’t look so good.”
Home for the Holidays Page 3