Christmas in Vermont

by Anita Hughes

  “I don’t have to eat at French restaurants, and I don’t want to sleep with Fletcher,” Emma said, horrified. “I feel bad for him. He’s worried about Lola.”

  “Of course you want to sleep with him!” Bronwyn exclaimed. “That’s why you drove four hours to Vermont. Not just to sleep with him, though from his pictures on Facebook, he’s pretty hunky. You want a romantic relationship, and that’s not going to happen if you’re a shoulder to cry on.”

  “We like listening to each other’s problems. Fletcher and I understand each other. That was one of the great things about our relationship.”

  “Along with the sex. And being in love, and planning a life after graduation,” Bronwyn pointed out. “You can’t have one without the others.”

  “I can listen to his problems if we have sex?” Emma asked.

  “A little whining while you snuggle is perfectly acceptable,” Bronwyn recommended. “When I can get Carlton to stay awake long enough, he’s been quite helpful in telling me how to get Marjorie Black to pay her account. Marjorie doesn’t want her husband to know she gets microneedling, but he took away her credit cards because she spends more money than a Kardashian.”

  “Why does this have to be so complicated?” Emma wondered. “When we were in college, we shared everything, and we were happy.”

  “Everything is more complicated as we get older.” Bronwyn studied her reflection in the camera. “These sunglasses make my skin look yellow. I should exchange them for the pair in black. Black is the safest color if you don’t have a tan.”

  * * *

  Fletcher and Emma and Lola entered the Vermont Teddy Bear factory, and a guide pointed them to the group forming in the lobby.

  “I didn’t want to go on another boring tour, but this is the opposite of the glassblowing factory,” Lola said excitedly. “Did you see the signs when we entered the gates? The tour is led by ‘certified bear ambassadors.’ There’s a gift shop that sells every kind of bear, and we can visit the teddy bear hospital and meet Doctor Traci.”

  “Doctor Traci?” Emma asked. They were standing in the lobby of an ivy-covered building that resembled something found on a college campus. There were photos of children clutching teddy bears, and a framed diploma stating each bear had a lifetime guarantee.

  “Didn’t you read the brochure?” Lola asked. She was bundled up against the cold in a purple sweater dress and striped leggings. “Doctor Traci can fix anything. When you bring in your bear, you fill out a form giving the patient’s name and age and fur color. I wonder if we could bring Paddington. I’d love to get his toggles sewed on.”

  A man in a brown uniform wearing teddy bear ears clapped his hands, and Emma and Fletcher and Lola joined the circle.

  “Let’s start by thanking our parents for bringing us,” the man intoned. “You’re about to experience the best hour of your lives: We’re going to show you how teddy bears are made, and introduce you to some new bears. At the end of the tour you’ll make your own bear.” He beamed at the group. “Who’s ready to become a student at SnowBeary Academy?”

  A cheer rose from the children, and Emma stole a look at Fletcher. The pained expression he’d had at breakfast had been replaced by a warm smile.

  “Are you ready?” Fletcher took Lola’s hand. “We want to get in the front, so we don’t miss seeing how they sew on the eyes and nose.”

  They followed the man through a maze of rooms stuffed with teddy bears. There were bears wearing ski goggles and holding snowboards, and bears dressed as firemen. There was a bear in a pink ballgown and slippers, and a whole section of Christmas bears with reindeer sweaters and red-and-green scarfs.

  The tour guide turned them over to Doctor Traci, who led them through the bear hospital and showed them where the patients were brought in. She explained that with careful stitching, most patients made a complete recovery. If they didn’t, the child could pick out a new bear free of charge.

  “Maybe I should make a bear for Cammi,” Lola said when the tour was nearly complete. “They come in four different colors, and for an extra charge they use premium fur.”

  “Isn’t Cammi almost eleven?” Fletcher asked. “She might be too old for teddy bears.”

  “You’re never too old for teddy bears,” Lola replied. “I was wondering if I could have a new bear. I mean, I’ve had Paddington forever.” Lola looked at Emma proudly. “Paddington even shook hands with the Queen.”

  “Your teddy bear met the Queen?” Emma repeated.

  “I was invited to a reception at Buckingham Palace a few years ago,” Fletcher recalled. “Lola begged me to take Paddington. He was inside my coat; the security guards thought he was some kind of bomb, and wanted to take out his stuffing,” Fletcher said wryly. “I had to beg them not to touch him, or Lola would have been devastated.”

  Lola went to join the children making bears, and Emma scanned the shelves for teddy bears for Liv and Sarah.

  “Children get so attached to their stuffed animals,” Emma said to Fletcher. “Last year I went to Disney World with Bronwyn and her children. Sarah left her stuffed giraffe on the ride from A Bug’s Life. Bronwyn had to stay at the resort with the girls while I combed every ride in the park until I found it.”

  “You went to Disney World with Bronwyn and her daughters?” Fletcher repeated.

  “It was supposed to be a family vacation, but Carlton had a last-minute business trip.” Emma nodded. “I didn’t mind. But then Liv got an ear infection and spent the last night screaming. Poor Bronwyn. The only thing that quieted Liv down was singing ‘It’s a Small World After All’ while watching the fish tank in the lobby.”

  “Being around small children is hard work,” Fletcher said. “If you enjoy them so much, why haven’t you had any of your own?”

  Emma was caught off-guard by his question. She put down the orange teddy bear she was holding and turned around. “I told you, I’m not good at relationships. I’ll think I’ve found the right guy, and then at about three hundred and sixty-four days I’ll realize I was wrong.”

  “Every time?” Fletcher asked. “Surely there was one who would have lasted.”

  “Philip was getting a master’s degree in microbiology at NYU, and I thought he was the one,” Emma remembered. “But for Christmas he surprised me with a one-way ticket to Angola. He’d received some kind of grant and expected me to come along. I’m sure Angola is fascinating and I admire his work, but I couldn’t imagine three years in the jungle without Internet or running water. And then there was Jason,” Emma continued. “We made it all the way through New Year’s, and I was certain he was going to propose. He called Bronwyn and asked her to take me on a girls’ weekend. Bronwyn and I were sure he was going to show up in the Berkshires with a diamond ring, but it turned out an old girlfriend was coming to New York, and he wanted the coast to be clear.” Emma flinched at the memory. “Bronwyn helped me clear out his things from my apartment and we donated them to the Salvation Army.”

  “It sounds like Bronwyn isn’t someone you want to cross,” Fletcher chuckled.

  “She’d do anything for me, and I’d do the same.” Emma nodded.

  Fletcher was looking at Emma intently. “You’ve grown even more beautiful over the years, and you have this quiet confidence. I wonder what—”

  “Look what I made!” Lola barreled into the room, holding two teddy bears. “California Bear is for Cammi when she grows up and moves to Beverly Hills”—Lola pointed to the bear wearing sunglasses and carrying a pair of roller blades—“and this is Broadway Bear. If you push a button, it plays the theme song from Annie.”

  Emma glanced at Fletcher, but he was flipping through the brochure. Whatever he was going to say had been forgotten.

  “I bet these bears are starving,” Fletcher said. “Why don’t we take them to the Bear Cafeteria and share bear brownies and hot chocolate with whipped cream?”

  “That sounds great,” Lola agreed. “I can tell you and Emma an idea I had for a Broadway musica
l. It would be about a bear like Paddington, who arrives at Grand Central Station and can’t find his new family.”

  “That is a good idea.” Fletcher took Lola’s hand.

  “I love the SnowBeary Academy,” Lola beamed, reaching out to Emma with her other hand and walking toward the cafeteria. “This is the best morning I’ve ever had.”

  * * *

  Emma sat on the bench in The Smuggler’s Inn mudroom and tried to unzip her boots. Lola had run upstairs with her new teddy bears, and Fletcher was taking off his jacket.

  “Are you all right?” Fletcher noticed her yanking at the zipper.

  “It’s stuck,” Emma explained. “I have terrible luck with boots.”

  Fletcher crouched beside her and fiddled with the zipper. He was so close; Emma recognized the scent of his cologne. Suddenly the zipper budged, and the boot slipped off her foot.

  “Thank you—I would have been wrestling with it for ages,” she said, taking off her other boot.

  “Thank you for coming this morning,” Fletcher said, nodding. “Lola and I are having dinner tonight at Le Soufflé in Dorset. Would you join us?”

  “I don’t think so.” Emma shook her head. “I should catch up on my work.”

  “It can’t be that urgent,” Fletcher urged. “Please come. It’s hard to share a soufflé with just two people.”

  Fletcher looked at her with the blue eyes she knew so well. Why shouldn’t she have dinner with Fletcher and Lola, and there were only two more days in Snowberry before New Year’s Eve.

  “All right—I’ll go.” Emma nodded.

  “Excellent.” Fletcher smiled. “I’m going upstairs to brush up on my French. I don’t want to embarrass Lola by ordering the wrong kind of soufflé.”

  * * *

  Emma entered her room and dropped the teddy bears for Liv and Sarah on the bed. Bronwyn had said she shouldn’t enter the friend zone, but touring SnowBeary Academy with Fletcher and Lola had been fun. And Fletcher had asked her out to dinner.

  She looked in her closet for something to wear, and was surprised by how excited she was. For a moment, she didn’t care what Bronwyn thought. She enjoyed being with Fletcher and Lola, and that was all that mattered.

  Sixteen

  Two Days Before New Year’s Eve

  Snowberry, Vermont

  FLETCHER STOOD IN THE SNOWBERRY Playhouse, studying the stage. He had worked all afternoon, creating a podium and stringing up fairy lights. A Christmas tree had been donated by the Snowberry Tree Farm, and there was a rocking chair in case any of the performers wanted to sit down.

  Megan hadn’t called or texted since she left for New York. He could call his therapist, Margaret, but would she be able to help? It was up to him and Megan to work through their problems.

  He punched in Megan’s number and waited; it went straight to voicemail.

  “Megan, it’s me, Fletcher,” he said into the phone. “I just wanted to check that you got back to New York safely. Please call me; we need to talk.”

  He pressed END, and debated sending a text. But you couldn’t solve relationship problems in a small bubble on a screen.

  He closed his phone and his mind wandered to this morning with Emma and Lola at the Vermont Teddy Bear factory. It had been a perfect morning. And it wasn’t just because Emma was so easy to talk to, or because Lola had seemed like all the other children instead of a little girl who’d moved across the ocean because her parents got divorced. It was also unzipping Emma’s boots in the mudroom. He hadn’t meant to ask her to dinner, but suddenly—being so close to her—he’d wanted to see her again.

  Fletcher took out his tape measure to measure the stage and recalled his last college production at Colby. Would everything have turned out differently if he hadn’t worked night and day, with barely any time to see Emma?

  May, 2008

  Waterville, Maine

  Fletcher wiped the sweat from his forehead and glanced at his watch. It was six o’clock at night, and he hadn’t stopped all day except to eat a sandwich at lunchtime. Even that had been unsatisfying. His food allowance at the college cafeteria had run out, so he kept a loaf of white bread and a container of SPAM in his dorm room. It would have tasted decent with mayonnaise, but that would have meant paying for a mini fridge, and he was trying to save every penny.

  This was the last production of his college career, and he was directing a full-length performance of Romeo and Juliet. He had hoped it would have been one of the easier plays; most students read Romeo and Juliet in high school, and everyone could relate to the star-crossed lovers. But the set designer had finished his exams early and gone home, so Fletcher was stuck painting backgrounds and building furniture.

  In the hours that he wasn’t at the theater, he stood behind the counter of Ye Olde Candy Shoppe. He’d asked the owner for extra shifts, and so for the last three weekends, he’d doled out licorice sticks until there were cramps in his hands and he could barely read the numbers on the cash register.

  It would all be worth it when he marched into the travel agent’s office in Waterville and bought Emma a plane ticket to London. It was only two weeks until graduation, and he wondered again if he should have told her about Harry’s offer. But what if he couldn’t earn enough for the plane ticket? It would be better to explain the whole story when she was holding the British Airways ticket in her hand, along with a photo of the garden flat in Notting Hill he’d found for them to rent. Besides, what if Emma got the job offer in New York? He didn’t want to say anything until he was certain he could make London work if she agreed to join him.

  Fletcher remembered when the large airmail envelope had appeared in his mailbox two weeks ago. Inside was a one-way ticket to London, with a letter from Harry Stone.

  Dear Fletcher,

  It was a pleasure meeting you at Colby. I was quite serious about the job offer as assistant director at the Old Vic. I’ve been looking for someone who can make Shakespeare appeal to the younger crowd, and you’re perfect for the position.

  Next season we’re attempting Two Gentlemen from Verona, and if that doesn’t entice you, I’m considering doing Somerset Maugham’s The Sacred Flame. It’s a wonderful play about World War I, and you’ll welcome the chance to dress the actors in English uniforms and not have them speak Shakespearean English.

  I have enclosed a paid one-way ticket to London. My son William has decided to stay in America after graduation, so I can also offer you the downstairs bedroom in our flat for as long as you need it. I am hoping you will respond with your arrival time at Heathrow Airport.

  Cheers,

  Harry Stone

  Would Emma come with him to England? She’d had an interview with Ogilvy & Mather in New York a couple of weeks ago, but she hadn’t heard anything. There were bound to be job opportunities in London. They could live there for a couple of years, and then come back to New York.

  Fletcher had almost told her about Harry’s offer, but what was the point? She couldn’t afford a plane ticket, and they couldn’t live in William Stone’s downstairs bedroom. He had to present her with everything already paid for, and hope that being together was more important than her dream of living in New York.

  There were footsteps, and he turned around. Emma stood in the doorway, carrying a picnic basket. She was wearing a cotton blouse and floral skirt, and Fletcher was reminded of her beauty.

  “Hi there,” he greeted her. “I’d come and kiss you, but any sharp movement might result in a permanent back sprain.”

  “You’re the director,” Emma said, noticing the hammer and nails he was holding. “You’re not supposed to build the set.”

  “The director does everything. Yesterday I had to write the last paragraph of the lead actor’s history paper so he doesn’t fail and get kicked out of school before the play. And tomorrow I have to find a car to pick up the accompanist’s hay fever medicine, because he has allergies and I’m afraid he’ll sneeze his music off the stand.”

  “You can’t
write another student’s paper. You’ll get expelled.” Emma walked down to the stage and kissed him.

  “It was only five sentences. It will be okay.” He kissed her back. “Whatever is in the basket smells too good; it might make me do something I’ll regret.”

  “We can’t make love here,” Emma laughed. “Someone might find us.”

  “That sounds tempting. But I was thinking of taking a break and eating everything in the picnic basket. Then the set won’t be ready for the dress rehearsal.”

  “You have to eat.” She handed him sourdough bread piled with ham and Swiss cheese. There was a thermos of tomato soup and two slices of chocolate cake.

  “God, you know my weaknesses,” Fletcher groaned, taking a bite of the sandwich.

  “I certainly hope so,” Emma said happily, biting into her own sandwich. “If I don’t know them all yet, I plan on learning them in the future.”

  This was the perfect time to tell Emma about Harry’s letter. But he still had to work four more shifts at Ye Olde Candy Shoppe to be able to afford her plane ticket. All he had to do was keep the secret for another week, and then he would tell her everything.

  “Any word from Ogilvy & Mather?” he asked casually.

  Emma stopped chewing and her face clouded over. She wiped her mouth, and her lovely shoulders moved up and down.

  “Nothing yet.” She shook her head. “I should be setting up other interviews, but I just keep hoping they’ll call.”

  “It’s hard to schedule interviews from Maine. It’s better to wait until we graduate,” Fletcher said quickly. “Anyway, I’m sure you’ll get the job.”

  “What if I don’t?” Emma said, uncertain. “My parents are coming for graduation. If I don’t have a job, they’ll whisk me back to Wisconsin and make me work as a receptionist in my uncle’s dentist office.”