Snowflake Bay

by Donna Kauffman

  “Good,” Fiona said. “I think that’s good.”

  Kerry nodded. “Hannah and Calder are going ahead with the wedding for sure. I guess she already told you that.”

  “Actually, we just talked about Gus, but I figured when he came home and wasn’t too debilitated, that they would.”

  “So, you haven’t talked to her about the one change she did make?”

  Fiona was pushing her glass toward Kerry so she could wash it, too, then paused midpush. “What other change?”

  Kerry rolled her eyes. “Figures. Call her. I’m not getting in the middle of it.”

  “Oh, just tell me. Doesn’t matter who I hear it from, if it’s happening, it’s happening. So what is it?”

  “They’re still getting married here in the Cove, but instead of the church in town, they want to keep it more intimate, have it out at the house like Logan and Alex did.”

  “It was summer, so of course—wait, you mean inside the house? Where will we fit everyone?” Her mind immediately went into full wedding-planner mode until Kerry snapped her fingers in front of Fiona’s face.

  “Hold up,” Kerry said. “You must have missed the part where I said it will be more intimate. Just immediate family. Which actually solves more problems than it creates.”

  Fiona brightened. “No Hatfields and McCoys?”

  “Correct. Just McCoys. Or McCraes and Croix River Blues. With everything else that has happened, they decided that a clan reconciliation is a bridge they can work on building later. And I agree completely.”

  “Here, here,” Fiona said, lifting her ginger ale, relief filling her to the point of making her want to laugh. “Is that why they changed it?”

  “That, and for Gus,” Kerry said simply. “Hannah wants him to walk her down the aisle, and that was one way to keep the aisle short and also keep things comfortable for him.”

  Fiona’s expression softened. “That’s really sweet of her. And perfect, really.”

  “I thought so, too.” Kerry leaned her elbows on the bar. “So, enough of the family drama. Back to the good stuff. When are you seeing Ben again? I assume he’s coming to the wedding. And I guess he’s staying here, then? In the Cove? How did it go in Portsmouth? You met Annalise, so I want to hear all about that. Is his place great?” She smiled. “Pick a question, any question.” She leaned more heavily on her elbows, her grin widening. “But make it the one about Annalise.”

  Fiona just snorted. “He’s going to surprise his folks on Christmas, so no, he won’t be at the wedding. The tree farm and satellite stands close up shop for the season around dinnertime on Christmas Eve; then he has a flight booked south. He’s told his mom, but not his dad.”

  “I guess he couldn’t ask you to go with him what with your sister being a pain in the ass and co-opting Christmas to get married. So inconsiderate of her.”

  “I don’t know if he would have, but yes, that’s moot. As to his plans after Christmas, I don’t know.”

  Kerry straightened. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

  “Exactly what I said. I met his staff and saw the company he’s built. It’s really amazing, Kerry. And the people are wonderful. He loves what he does and he’s built something really special there.”

  “Okay. Well, you love him—you have told him that, I’m assuming. So would you follow him to Portsmouth?”

  Fiona had worked really hard not to think about a label for her feelings for Ben. They were all too mixed up, and complicated by how long the two of them had known each other. “I made the right decision coming back to the Cove,” she began.

  “But you really haven’t started anything yet, here. I know you bought Beanie’s place, but that doesn’t mean you can’t turn right around and sell it. It’s in good shape. And God knows you’d do great in Portsmouth, business wise. Better than here, that’s for certain.”

  “That’s just it, Kerry. I don’t want a city business, even one that’s only the size of Portsmouth. That’s why I came home.”

  “So . . . what, then? He’ll just go back to Rhode Island and thanks for the holiday fling? Is that all you wanted? Some freaky kind of closure to your childhood crush?” She held up her hand. “I’m not even bashing that, I’m not. I’d get it. It’s just . . . you don’t look like someone who has done what she set out to do and is ready to say see ya later.” She looked more closely at Fiona. “Did you tell him? That you love him?”

  “Kerry—”

  “Because he needs to know that, before he decides. It matters, Fi. Has he told you how he feels?”

  He hadn’t told her he loved her, Fiona thought, but she didn’t say that to Kerry. The train ride home had been a lot different from the train ride south, though. It had still been fantasy-level amazing, and the sex . . . well, she didn’t want to think about it because she was too sore to feel all achy and needy at the moment. Which was what happened anytime she let herself think about the things they’d done together on that train.

  But on the way back, while it had still been hot and amazing with over-the-top levels of pleasure . . . something had changed. And not just in her, though she’d had to watch herself, keep herself from getting too emotional, too serious. She’d kept it playful and fun, but she was pretty sure she wasn’t the only one who’d been fighting stronger feelings. Ben had been . . . well, he’d been gentler, at times. Sweeter. She’d even held her breath on a few occasions, certain he was about to say those very words. But then he hadn’t. So she certainly hadn’t.

  But that didn’t change the fact that label avoidance or no, she knew quite well that those three little words were true. For her, anyway.

  “It’s not like that between us, Kerry,” was all she said. And tried like hell to ignore the resulting twinge in her heart. Because whatever it was or wasn’t . . . she really wanted it to be just like that.

  “What if it was?” Kerry asked. “Is that something you’d want?” She put her hand over Fi’s, which was, well, sweeter than Kerry usually was. “Be honest with me.”

  Fi looked at their hands, then finally glanced up at Kerry and answered her honestly. “I think so, yes.”

  “Liar,” Kerry said, but she was smiling. “You know so.”

  “It doesn’t matter what I know,” she said. “His life is in Portsmouth, and while I might feel . . . how I feel, I don’t want a life there, Ker. Even one that includes being with Ben.”

  “You wouldn’t even try?”

  “I did try. And while New York is not Portsmouth, it’s similar enough for me to know—I don’t want to go back to that. Loving someone isn’t enough to make up for having to sell out what you need for yourself. It’s not like it would be temporary, then I’d get to go do what would fulfill me. That I’d consider in a heartbeat.”

  “Has he said what he’s going to do with the farm?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t think he’s decided yet. He’ll get through the season, and then I think part of why he’s going to see his parents for Christmas is so he can talk to them about it. He’ll have done one season by then, and I guess he’ll know as much as he can to make whatever decision needs to be made. One thing I do know, after talking to his employees and seeing all the pictures and pending contracts he has . . . he can’t run both places for much longer. It’s only because winter is the slow season for his business that he’s been able to juggle this at all.”

  “Doesn’t seem right,” Kerry said, but she wasn’t looking at Fiona any longer, and seemed lost in her own thoughts.

  Fiona slipped her hand out from under Kerry’s and touched her arm. “You okay?”

  Kerry blinked her thoughts away and immediately gave her sister their patented Seriously? look. “Why wouldn’t I be? I mean, other than constantly wanting to strangle the one man in my life I love above all others, what could be wrong?”

  “Well, you’ve been Stateside now since summer. That’s a record.”

  Kerry snagged her rag from her apron and turned back to the sink. “I haven’t
figured out what’s next. The list, it is long,” she said blithely, maybe too blithely. “I’ve got a sister to marry off, an uncle to get back on his feet.” She tossed a wry look over her shoulder and scrunched her nose. “And another sister to knock some serious sense into.”

  “There’s nothing to knock. It is what it is.”

  “Well, before you go writing off your future, at the very least, tell Ben how you feel. And see what comes of that.”

  Fiona had thought of that. Had thought of almost nothing but that. But when she played out the scene past telling him how she felt, there was no scenario that ended up with both of them getting to do what was personally fulfilling for them, what they’d worked hard to have and enjoy. She knew that even if she was willing and did make the sacrifice, being with Ben—or any other person—was not going to be enough to overcome getting up every single day to go do something she didn’t want to be doing. And so she surely wouldn’t ask the same of him, because the end result would be the same. Happy together, miserable inside their own hearts. “It’s very romantic to think the happily ever after just happens, Kerry,” she said. “That love is big enough to conquer all. But the reality is, sometimes, there is no way to pull that off.”

  “So you keep saying,” Kerry said. She paused long enough to look at Fiona again. “But here’s what I say. Tell him you love him between now and when he leaves to see his folks and make the big decisions that need making. Give him that chance. He deserves that much. And so do you. Besides, if you don’t tell him, I will.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  “I’m so happy for you, honey,” Ben’s mom trilled over the phone. “This will make your dad’s year.”

  “I haven’t asked her yet. Don’t say anything to him until—”

  “No, no, of course not. But . . . she’ll say yes, won’t she? I’m just so tickled, I can’t even—” She broke off, sniffled.

  “Mom,” Ben warned. “Don’t get all—”

  “Oh, you’ll just have to put up with some tears. We girls are like that. Well, hurry up and get it done so I can talk to Fiona and we can start planning.”

  “Oh Lord,” Ben said. He hadn’t really put that part together. “Mom, don’t go all full tilt.”

  “Honey, honey,” she said, breaking in. “It will be beautiful. I love Fiona. All the McCrae girls. They’re like extended family.” She sniffled again. “And now one of them really will be. Oh, I can’t wait to tell your father.”

  Ben was starting to regret having told her before popping the question, but he’d had to. Wanted to. “Thank you,” he said.

  “For not telling—”

  “No. For your blessing. And for Nana’s ring.” Which was the actual reason he’d called.

  “You’re trying to make me into a blubbering fool—then what will I tell your father?”

  “That you were watching a greeting card commercial. He knows you cry at the drop of a pin.”

  She let out a watery laugh. “Well, that’s true.”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  “I haven’t taken that ring out in ages,” she said. “You’ll probably need to get it sized. And cleaned.”

  “Why didn’t you have it with you?” he asked. He’d been surprised when she’d told him it was still at the house. He’d assumed he’d have to have her send it to him. Which was the other reason he’d called. He didn’t know when he was going to ask Fiona, but he wanted to have the ring here, with him, when he did.

  “Because it was for you,” she told him. “I mean, I didn’t know when, or who—though can I just say how relieved I am that it’s not—”

  “Mom, you don’t have to. I didn’t mention it earlier, but when we were in Portsmouth, Fiona even had the chance to meet her.”

  “Oh?” she asked, with barely disguised rabid curiosity. “And how did that go? I swear, I move south and I’m missing all the good stuff.”

  Ben chuckled at that. “It’s a longer story than I can get into here, but I think it’s probably just the first of many classic Fiona stories. It was the moment I knew for sure I wanted to marry her.”

  His mother laughed. “Sounds delicious. I’ll have to wheedle it out of you sooner than later, then. Or wheedle it out of her when we chat. You have her call me the minute she says yes.”

  He laughed. “I’ll be sure to do that. I appreciate your confidence.”

  “Well, I might be a bit biased, but why wouldn’t she?”

  “Love you, Mom,” he said, grinning.

  “Love you back.”

  Ben hung up the phone, but didn’t get up from the kitchen table right away. It was one thing to have a momentary epiphany in the middle of his company Christmas party and think, hey, I’m in love, I want to marry the girl. But he’d been back in Maine now for five days. Christmas was just around the corner, which was the deadline of sorts for him to make a decision on what he wanted to do with his life. Or, at least, with the responsibilities that had entered his life a month or so ago. And instead of freaking out wondering what in the hell he’d been thinking, he was on the phone to his mother—his mother—asking her for his grandmother’s wedding ring. And feeling perfectly fine about it.

  He hadn’t even told Fiona he loved her. Much less made up his mind what he was going to do about The Decision.

  He set his phone on the kitchen table, then leaned forward all the way until his forehead touched his curled hands, resting on his great-grandmother’s linen tablecloth. “You are so seriously not right in the head. Being home, being around Fiona, it’s warped you, man. Straighten up. Fly right.”

  He sat that way for another thirty seconds or so, then sat up. And grinned. “Nah, I still wanna marry her.”

  He slapped his palms on the table, shoved his chair back, and stood. His only decision now was, should he call Paul first, and tell him that their earlier conversation was no longer a “what if” hypothetical, but quite possibly an “oh shit, we’re going to do this” reality? Or, should he go find Fiona and make sure she was going to say yes—and maybe, while he was at it, find out if, oh, you know, she loved him back—before turning his life completely upside down.

  He looked around the kitchen, at the surroundings of his childhood. And it had been a really, truly wonderful childhood. He listened to the noise filtering in from outside, of the cars coming and going, people laughing, shouting, and, at the moment, even singing Christmas carols. Really badly, as it happened, which just made it all the better. There was the tractor engine humming, chain saws whirring. And above it all, the laughter, the chatter, the people who came, year after year, and chopped down Christmas trees that would show up in photos for years and possibly even generations to come. The noises of his childhood. The noises, he’d come to realize over the past month—a realization that had crystalized that night in Portsmouth when he could actually see that part of his future with real clarity and belief—that he wanted to be the sounds of his children’s childhoods as well.

  So it didn’t really matter whom he called first, because, even if he was really, really way off and Fiona wasn’t interested in being part of that noise, in generating her own brand of noise to entwine and entangle in his memories of this house, this place, this life . . . then he was still going to be here.

  Maybe not exactly as his father, grandfather, great-grandfather, and even great-great grandfather before him had been here, but with the same spirit, the same love, and the same dedication they’d had. He was going to be here, in Snowflake Bay.

  It had just taken coming home and falling in love with exactly the woman he was supposed to be in love with to put all the pieces into the right spaces. And, okay, a few that didn’t quite fit, but between him, Paul, Stephanie, and a crew of the best people anyone had ever had the chance to build a business with, he was going to pound those pieces into place until they fit, too.

  Yeah. He needed to get that under way, so when he did do the big getting-on-one-knee scene, he could make Fiona understand he wasn’t doing this for her,
or even for them. He was doing it for himself first and foremost. Just as she’d done, in coming back to the Cove, to her home.

  “I should be writing this down,” he thought, then laughed at himself. “What the hell, you’re winging everything else.”

  He grabbed his phone up, hit Paul’s number on his speed dial, and headed to the back door, back to the work that was going to continue to be part of his life for as long as he was able to do it. He hadn’t told his mom this part yet. He needed to make sure it was going to happen first. It would be his Christmas present to them both. Well, that and maybe an engagement announcement.

  “Paul,” he said, when the younger man picked up the phone. “So about that talk we had. I think I want to try and make that work.” He held the phone away from his ear when Paul hooted. Loudly. When he was done, he tucked the phone close again, and said, “You talked to Stephanie? She’s on board? It’s a lot. I really need to know—”

  “We’re ready for the adventure, boss.”

  “What time frame do you figure? Spring? Early summer? I haven’t looked over all the files you sent me yet, but—”

  “If the winter isn’t too bad and we can get an early spring start, then I think early May is very doable. Bad winter, it might push us to June.”

  “I can live with that.” If a person could hear another person smile, Ben could hear Paul’s ear-to-ear grin like it was a full on howl. “You’re really sure about this?”

  “What, say no and have you hire someone else to have all the fun? Hell no. I want in, ground floor. Then I’ll be sure you’ll never get rid of me.”

  Ben chuckled. That sounded exactly like Paul. “And Stephanie?”

  “Her only question was how upset you were going to be later on when we wanted to pass our part in the business down to our children, you know, regardless of where your potential future offspring might figure in to all this.”

  “Maybe we’ll let them figure that out. It would be a pretty sweet problem to have.”

  “You know, you’re right. I’ll start pulling a list together, who we need to call first, second, third. And I’ll get Steph on calling your new work appointments and regretfully cancelling. Unless they want to go to Maine, too.”