by Nina Bocci
“Have you been good otherwise, though? Shop’s good? Friends are good?” I asked, trying not to sound like I was fishing for information.
“The business has been a godsend in terms of dealing with this weather. If I was home, I think I’d lose my mind. I’ve never seen so much snow and there’s nowhere to put it!”
“It’s only January, honey. You’ve got at least two more months of it,” I explained, laughing when Charlotte pretended to tug at her hair in frustration. “Where’s your delightful professor? Out shoveling?”
Charlotte was dating her childhood BFF, Henry, after reconnecting when she arrived back in Hope Lake last year. It was incredible to see the change in her from being back in her hometown, especially because she fought the relocation tooth and nail.
She smiled, looking dreamily at a framed photo on the corner of her workstation. It was from the Fourth of July last year, when I’d surprised her with a quick visit. Well, sort of quick. The photo included me, Charlotte, Henry, her friends Emma and Cooper, and their friend Nick. I bit back my grin at the sight of Nick.
Something clattered onto the worktable near Charlotte’s hand. “Damn it, I’m so clumsy lately. Anyway, where was I? Oh, Henry is back at school after Christmas break, which was lovely because we both got a small reprieve over the holidays. I wish you could have seen this place for Christmas. It looked like a Hallmark movie.”
“Too bad I missed it,” I said, twirling a pencil between my fingers.
“You should come visit Hope Lake. It’s Henry’s birthday, plus you miss me, and who knows, maybe a change of scenery will help kick you in the ass a bit.”
“That’s not a bad idea,” I said, and surprisingly, I realized I felt excited about the prospect.
“You can actually veg out, take a break for a minute. I think you deserve some free time.” Charlotte winked, knowing damn well I was free all the time now.
“Again, I say to you, subtlety is an art you have not mastered.”
Charlotte, suddenly serious, faced the phone head-on. She E.T.’d the phone, pushing her index finger onto the screen. I responded by placing mine against hers, causing the image to wobble a moment. “I miss your stupid face. Come visit.”
“Well, with an offer like that, how can a girl refuse?”
“I’m serious, Parker. I know you; you’re floundering.”
“What’s the phrase? My new normal? I’m trying to figure out exactly what that is. I spent years building D and V and now it’s gone. I mean, I’m glad it is because I was a zombie all the time, but what do I do now? Who am I without it?”
She sighed, and I was pretty sure if we were face-to-face and not screen-to-screen that she would have pulled me into one of her crippling hugs. “Delicious and Vicious was a part of you, but it’s not all you are. Selling it was the best decision you made. You saw me last year when I was having a hard time. You didn’t let me give up, and I’m not going to let you either. Come visit. Recharge your batteries and enjoy this godforsaken snow,” she suggested as I plodded toward my small office area.
“How’s the sledding in Hope Lake?” I asked, jumping up from the chair to skid into my room. It was now or never. If I faltered in the plan, I knew I’d back out. I grabbed a suitcase and began tossing essentials inside. What I didn’t bring, I could buy there.
“The best.” She glanced at her watch. “If you catch the three o’clock bus, you’ll get here in time for dinner.”
“I hope you’re not cooking,” I joked before hitting the red button.
Nice to see you again, Parker,” the bus driver said, waving to me. I had just disembarked the bus into Mount Hazel, a town neighboring Hope Lake.
Charlotte, as promised, was waiting at the stop and came careening over, sliding the last few inches thanks to an icy patch. “What did the driver mean, ‘see you again’?”
I coughed, delaying my answer. “Oh, you know. Last time I was here. I must have a face to remember.”
The lie rolled off of my tongue so effortlessly, I was ashamed of myself. Charlotte, my very best friend in the world, didn’t know how many times I had ridden the midnight bus to Mount Hazel, the next town over from Hope Lake.
Charlotte didn’t bat an eyelash at the lie. “You’re here!” she yelled, pulling me into a tight hug. “Weather is a bit different from last time.”
Uh… She wasn’t wrong, but she wasn’t right either. Eventually, Charlotte and I were going to have to discuss the number of times I’d been to Mount Hazel and why I didn’t let her know about all the visits—or who picked me up to drive me to Hope Lake. And whom I was visiting.
“Oh my God. You weren’t kidding when you said you got a lot of snow here,” I said, changing the subject as we trudged through at least eight inches of fresh powder to get to Henry’s Jeep, which sat at the very edge of the parking lot.
“This is just from today?”
She nodded, hooking her arm in mine to help us steady each other.
Everything was covered. That wasn’t an exaggeration either. The thinnest branches on the tallest trees had a crystal layer of ice and snow. Mounds were plowed off of the streets and wedged along the sidewalks. Besides the snow giving everything a glistening sparkle, the town looked exactly how I remembered it. “It looks like a goddamn storybook.”
I let go of Charlotte’s arm. “If I throw myself into a pile of snow and make angels, will you pretend like you don’t know me?”
Henry, who had been busy helping an elderly woman with her luggage, joined us, laughing when he heard me. He slung his arm over her shoulders as he pulled my wheeled suitcase behind him. “I think you should do it.”
“Henry, don’t encourage her, she will.”
I slapped her arm. “I can’t wait to see Gigi. Your text from earlier said we’re getting together tonight?”
“Yes, some of us are having birthday cupcakes for this guy,” she explained, resting her head on Henry’s shoulder.
My stomach did a flip. “Some of us?”
Charlotte nodded. “Yeah. Henry, me and you, Emma and Cooper, Gigi’s crew, and Mancini. Don’t leave out that crazy old bird.”
Out of nowhere, a stout woman with gravity-defying and cosmetically altered jet-black hair popped up from behind Henry’s Jeep. She was wearing a beaming smile and a Kelly green tracksuit. “You summoned me?”
The three of us jumped back, me nearly collapsing into the snow pile behind me. She literally appeared as if conjured up from the depths below. Even Henry was startled as he let out the daintiest peep at the sight of her looming by the bumper.
“Mrs. Mancini!” Charlotte sang, going over to the woman and giving her a quick kiss on her plump cheek. “I didn’t see you there.”
“Of course you didn’t, darling. You were too busy with your Henry to notice me eavesdropping,” she explained, not seeming the least bit put off that she was listening in. “I’m happy to see you again, Parker. What brings you back to Hope Lake this time?” Mancini was fighting back a grin, and thankfully, Charlotte and Henry didn’t pick up on her innuendo. The last time I saw Mancini, it was under much different circumstances, and it looked like she wasn’t going to go easy on me. Mancini was another one of Gigi’s cohorts, and the woman was a gem. Though I’d only met her twice, I found her delightful.
Mancini appraised me in that motherly, or rather, grandmotherly way. Starting from the top of my head, where she was probably determining that the blond was too blond compared with my usual light brown shade. Which was funny, considering her coloring was anything but natural looking. I didn’t have any makeup on because I was traveling, but I knew that without mascara I looked more tired than usual with my thin blond lashes. My shirt was wrinkled, and my jeans had a permanent stain on the knee from an accident when I was dyeing fondant for a specialty divorce cake. Overall, though, she gave me a once-over as if she approved.
I rolled my shoulders back and stuffed my hands into my cold pockets. I’d need a warmer coat while I was here. Mancini gazed on expectantly, remindi
ng me of her question. What exactly was I doing here?
The first thing that came to mind was the truth, and it tumbled out. “Charlotte suggested I come stay here while I figure out what Parker Phase Two is, and I jumped on it.”
Mrs. Mancini smiled. “I like that, Parker Phase Two. I wonder if I can have a new phase for me. Something like Phase Eighty-two but acts Twenty-eight,” she said with a titter.
I bit back another grin. What a piece of work. I could tell that Charlotte and Henry loved her as well. She was the type of woman who would give you the absolute honesty that you needed to get your life together.
Her cell phone suddenly rang in her pocket, an unexpected Pitbull ringtone—one that you’d typically hear on a Pandora dance station and not an eightysomething’s cell phone—blasting out.
“Oh, that’s Gigi. Stay put, I have lots of questions.”
“So do I,” I deadpanned, looking to Charlotte and Henry, but Charlotte was also looking at her phone.
“Hey, I hate to do this, but my assistant, Nellie, had an emergency at the shop. She sliced her finger pretty badly. I’m going to have to have Henry take her to my dad for stitches, so I need to go man the shop.”
“No problem, give the good doctor my best. I’ll see him soon,” I said. Charlotte’s father ran the small doctor’s office in town.
“I’m sorry I have to run after you just got here. Can I get you an Uber?”
“You mean the Uber?” I asked, teasing because there was only one of the ride-share cars in town. On more than one occasion in the past, I’d needed to use him to venture back to the bus.
“No, an Uber. We’ve got more than one, you know.”
Henry stepped in. “Well, two, but only one has four-wheel drive for all the snow.”
Mrs. Mancini came back over just as Charlotte was pulling up the Uber app. “You’ll do no such thing,” Mrs. Mancini said, pushing the phone down gently. “I’ll drive her where she needs to go. We have loads to catch up on.”
“Are you sure? You look awfully busy,” Henry interrupted. He looked toward Charlotte with wide, worried eyes.
Mrs. Mancini gave him a look. “I’m never too busy for an old friend. Where are you staying, dear? I have lots of rooms, you know. You’re more than welcome to stay in my humble abode.”
“I’ve seen your house, Mrs. Mancini, and there’s nothing humble about it. It’s why I like it,” I said honestly. She lived on the outskirts of town next door to where Charlotte’s grandmother Gigi lived. Their houses couldn’t be more different. One was a bright explosion of color and whimsy and the other was modest and traditional. Both were Victorian-style treasures.
“Go big or stay home, that’s my motto.” She winked. “Seriously, though, you two skitter off and I’ll take care of Parker here. Not to worry. I think for now she needs a snack. You look peckish.”
As if on cue, my stomach growled. “You’re not wrong.”
Henry, still looking nervous, pulled me in for a hug. “She drives like a lunatic when there’s no snow…” he warned as he passed me to my best friend.
Charlotte stifled a laugh at his admission. “She’s from New York. Nothing will faze her,” she said, giving me a hug before she and Henry walked away hand in hand.
“I tell you what,” Mrs. Mancini said, pulling me toward her. “I have a lasagna ready at home and fixings for a salad right here.” She tapped the reusable shopping bag hooked on her arm. “Oh, and wine.”
“Sold!” I exclaimed. “Where’s your car?”
She pointed to the end of the road where a cherry-red Hummer was parked. “You’re kidding, right?” I asked, but she didn’t respond with anything other than a beaming smile. “Mrs. Mancini, you’re my idol.”
She preened, pursing her lips and lifting her eyes up. “You call me Suzanne, or just Mancini. That’s what my lady friends call me. Now, you didn’t answer me before. Where are you staying?”
I wheeled my suitcase behind me as I followed her down the street. The sidewalks weren’t totally shoveled yet, so I walked a bit closer to her than normal in case she slipped. “I’m renting an Airbnb by the lake since I don’t know how long I’m staying for, and I need access to a full kitchen.”
“How did you swing an open-ended rental at the lake, of all places? That’s like a golden ticket!”
I shrugged. “I emailed through the site outlining what I was looking for. I guess this place isn’t too busy during the winter months, so the owners jumped on it.”
The place had looked perfect online. I hoped that it wasn’t some sort of scam because the rental price was dirt cheap. Of course, it was off-season, but still. Lake house, chef’s kitchen, five bedrooms and I don’t know how many bathrooms? It was absurd in size for one person, but how could I pass up a chance at that kitchen?
“So, you could stay for a week, or you could stay for five months,” she said, handing me the bag of groceries and pushing the unlock button on her key fob.
I laughed at the idea of staying five months here. “Hold your horses, Mancini. Let’s see if I can get through the week.” I put her bag into the backseat along with my suitcase and duffel.
Mancini readied herself, bending slightly a few times as if stretching out her already stretchy track pants. She was on the lowest end of five feet and I had no idea if I had to give her a boost into the truck or if she crawled in like a kid into a tree house. Just as I was about to push her, she tapped a button on the inside of the doorframe and the running board lowered. She saw my impressed expression. “If you think that’s cool, hold on a second.”
She stood on the running board and pushed the button again. It raised her up until she was at the perfect height to slide inside. Once off, she tapped it again and it disappeared underneath the doorframe of the car.
Before I closed the door, I smiled. “Like I said, idol.”
* * *
Mancini drove at a leisurely pace through town, which was unexpected considering Henry’s warning of a NASCAR experience. I got the feeling that if I wasn’t in the car with her, or new to town, she wouldn’t be explaining every little thing we passed by. “That’s the ice-cream shop, and Henry’s bookstore is that way. You know the flower shop, of course, and that’s the drugstore over there. I know you know where that is,” she said with a haphazard wave. The smile on her face let me know that she remembered seeing me, in that very store, just a few months back. “Now, they don’t have the good weed here, just the medicinal kind. Though we’re hoping Clare signs the bill for Pennsylvania to go the weed route. It’d be helpful for a lot of reasons,” she said, adding a saucy wink.
“I hope Clare comes through for you,” I said awkwardly, because really, how do you respond to an eightysomething who’s hoping to get stoned? “By the way, who is Clare?”
She turned down another random street. “Clare? Oh, wait. I forgot you’re not from here. Clare Campbell. Cooper’s mother is the governor.”
“Oh, I think I did know that,” I said, remembering that Charlotte’s other childhood friend Cooper was the town’s mayor. Politics must run in that family. I yawned, glancing at my phone.
“The lake is that way?” I pointed to a sign that said HLBC for Hope Lake Brewing Company, a bar that I knew was on the lake and conveniently right down the road from my new lake house.
“Yes, I know you know where the lake is,” she said, another wry grin on her cheery face.
“Okay, let’s get this out of the way,” I said, turning toward her. “I know that you know that I was here a lot more than I let on to my best friend.”
“Parker, you can put the worry out of your pretty little head. I’ll never tell your secrets to Charlotte. Now, you should confess, but I’m not going to be the one that lets her or that crew of besties know that you were in flagrante with the only single banana in the bunch.”
I barked a laugh. “Thank you for the honesty, and for the secret-keeping. I will tell her about me and, well, everything that happened, soon. I’m just waiting to se
e him first.”
She sighed. “In a town this size, Parker, it’ll be sooner than you think.”
Perhaps it was the years of little sleep catching up to me, or the fact that Mancini’s Hummer coursed over the snow-covered streets with ease, but I soon dozed off during the short drive through the small town.
When I woke, I was outside her house—a sprawling multicolored Victorian that sat on the edge of a dead-end road. Surrounding me was an expanse of snow as far as the eye could see. To my right was a mountainside that looked like it would provide killer skiing, and Gigi’s house stood sentry right next door.
Where Gigi’s was a classic white Victorian, Mancini’s was its nutty twin bursting with color. Speak of the devil, Mancini was on the porch and ready to descend the still-snowy stairs. I jumped out of the SUV and got to her just before she went down on an icy patch. “Whoa there, I got you.”
She smiled but quickly turned serious. “Always save the lasagna first,” she instructed, pushing the deep glass dish toward me. “Then me. I’ve got padding; the Pyrex doesn’t.”
“Sure,” I insisted, helping her to the car. “Where are we going now?”
“Pit stop. It’ll be quick.”
Once inside the Hummer, Mancini made sure the lasagna was in a safe spot in the backseat. And by safe spot, I mean that she pulled a built-in car seat down from the backseat and secured the lasagna with a seat belt meant for a toddler.
She really was a character.
Mancini backed out of the driveway and pulled into Gigi’s, which was literally next door. It was curious, though, because I knew Gigi couldn’t drive, yet her place was packed with cars. Large, expensive cars.
“We could have walked.” I laughed, but Mancini pointed to the deep snow between the yards.
“Parker,” she said in a simpering tone that I imagined was how she sounded when any person crossed over to her bad side. “You’re wearing Converses and I’m pretty sure you’re not wearing socks. You’ll be sick the entire time you’re here if you don’t make good decisions.”
