Christmas had been chaotic. She’d been ecstatic to be done with work. She loved her job, but the closer the holiday got, the more out of control her kindergarten students became. Sending the last one home on the twenty-third had wrung a relieved breath from her lungs so large, it had collapsed her into her chair where she simply sat and stared off into space for the better part of a half hour.
Spending the night before Christmas Eve in the mall had been a treat, she thought sarcastically. She rolled her eyes as she recalled that most stressful of trips. She’d fallen behind on her shopping and Kristin had been no help, saying she had a proposal for one of the firm’s biggest clients due by the end of the day on Friday--The day before Christmas Eve? Seriously?--and wouldn’t be able to get to the store. She handed a short list to Molly on her way out the door Friday morning and asked if she’d mind grabbing gifts for these few people, not really waiting for an answer. Molly hated shopping. Despised it, especially in a crowd of people, and Kristin knew it. She was amazed she got in and out of the mall without actually beating somebody to death with her bare hands.
Then, of course, there was Christmas with the family: always fun, but at the same time, always loud. Being Italian definitely had its disadvantages. Molly loved her clan, but when her mother and her mother’s brothers and sisters all got talking at the same time, the volume increasing exponentially, none of them listening to anybody but themselves, it was all she could do to keep from screaming at the top of her lungs, “Shut up!” More often than not, she left her mother’s house with a headache and the burning need for several hours of silence as a remedy.
Easing to a halt at a stop sign, she noted with amusement that there wasn’t another car in sight. She stared past the empty seat on the passenger side, then immediately berated herself for inviting her mind to slide toward the topic she wanted to ignore. You made a pact, Mol, she told herself. No wallowing. You’re here to relax, be with your friends, and have fun. The fact that she was alone in the car was a glaring issue, one she’d been trying to avoid, and it wasn’t like Amy and Jo wouldn’t notice. But so be it. Kristin had other priorities and there was absolutely nothing Molly could do to change that reality.
“I just need to get this contract ironed out, baby,” Kristin had told her that morning. “I promise I’ll do it as quickly as possible.”
Molly was packing for both of them, and Kristin’s sudden change in plans had taken her completely off guard. She held a T-shirt in mid-fold. “What?”
Kristin had smiled that smile, the skin around her crystal blue eyes crinkling. “I promise. Trust me.” When she grinned like that, there was almost nothing Molly wouldn’t give her, despite how angry, hurt, or disappointed she was. This time, though, Kristin was pushing it.
“But we planned this months ago,” Molly said, nearly wincing at the whining tone of her own voice. “You requested this vacation time in September.”
Kristin rested her hands on Molly’s shoulders. She was taller and stronger and her hands felt large, holding Molly in place as if she were a doll. Molly resisted the urge to shrug them off, her irritation beginning to build.
“I know. But Reeves is counting on me to be his right hand here. This could mean big things for the firm, and you know how close he is to retiring. If I can show him I can handle whatever he throws at me…” Kristin let the sentence dangle in the air, knowing Molly was well aware of what remained unsaid.
Kristin was in line to take over. It wasn’t the largest advertising firm in the city, but it was sizable, growing by leaps and bounds, and had a sterling reputation. Once Jack Reeves retired, the title of president would most likely fall to Kristin. She was constantly reminding Molly what that would mean for them financially.
Molly had sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to win this one, as usual. There was no way to change Kristin’s mind, and she was suddenly just too exhausted to fight about it. “When will you be able to make it?” she asked, feeling small and defeated and knowing she sounded that way, too.
“I’ll be there by Tuesday night, okay? You’ll only have to be there for one night without me. One night. I promise.”
“We’re going to have two cars there now.” Grasping at straws.
Kristin shrugged. “That’s all right. It won’t kill us. No big deal.” They stood in silence. “Okay?” Kristin prodded. Molly’s reluctant nod earned her a bear hug from her wife of seven years. When Kristin set her down, she took Molly’s face in her hands and kissed her forehead. “You’re the best, Mol.”
Surprised by the nearly overwhelming urge to cry that suddenly seeped in on her like warm water, Molly went back to her packing and barely registered Kristin’s departing ritual—the briefcase, the quick kiss dropped on her mouth,
“I’ll see you tomorrow, sweetheart. Be careful driving.” Kristin tapped the Blackberry in its holder clipped to her waist. It was her lifeline—a cell phone, mini computer, and PDA all in one—and Molly hated it. “Call me if you need me.” As she left the room, she tossed over her shoulder, “I love you.”
“Love you, too,” Molly muttered.
Standing alone in their bedroom, she felt like a child who’d been left behind. She glanced at the bed and tried to remember the last time they’d made love. It had been months, she was sure--she couldn’t recall the last time Kristin had even looked at her with any inkling of sexual interest. The tears came then and she’d been powerless to stop them. She sat down on the bed, dropped her face into her hands, and wept openly, letting all the pain and frustration overcome her.
Now, an hour away from her home and partner, she sat in her Honda Accord and felt annoyed that she hadn’t put up a fight. She was beginning to feel as if Kristin’s order of priorities went something like this: Reeves & Associates, their personal finances, and then Molly. She was sure if she added it all up, she actually got much less of Kristin’s time than any of her clients or coworkers. And when had Kristin become so focused on money? Had she been like that seven years ago when they’d first begun dating?
Molly pressed a hand to her forehead, trying to stave off the gnawing beginnings of a headache. It was a pain that had recently become familiar and didn’t seem like it was leaving any time soon. Gritting her teeth, she punched the power button on the CD player and let Gretchen Wilson sing to her about being a redneck. Tears pooled in her eyes but she refused to let them spill, angry with herself for allowing her brain to take her down this well-known, over-traveled path yet again. She was sick of crying all the time. She was going to have fun this week, damn it. She was going to have fun if it killed her.
Forcing herself to concentrate on the beauty of nature that surrounded her, Molly was able to calm down ever so slightly. Upstate New York had everything, she reflected as she drove; it was one of the amazing benefits of this part of the United States. You could live and work in the heart of the city, as she and Kristin did, but within an hour of driving, you could find yourself in the middle of the countryside. Cow-filled pastures, sprawling farms, even vineyards were scattered across the northern parts of the state, easily accessible to anybody willing to sit in the car for a bit.
Civilization was beginning to spread out, away from downtown, even beyond the suburbs, as people realized they could live in the “country” and still commute to the city each day. Yes, it was a longer drive each morning and night, but for some, the ability to leave work, drive home, and sit in the open back yard listening to crickets and watching fireflies was much more appealing than the sounds of traffic or the wailing of the occasional police siren. And there were people like Amy and Jo, who loved both lifestyles and were hard-pressed to choose between them so they didn’t choose at all. They kept a place in the city, worked during the week, and spent weekends and vacations far away from the hustle and bustle of downtown. Amy often said their cabin in the woods felt a million miles away from her everyday life. If you could afford it, it was the best of both worlds.
The rolling hills on either side of Molly’s car were go
rgeous no matter what time of year. Right now, they were covered with snow, the trees bare, branches poking upward like dark, bony fingers in sharp contrast to the color of the sky. White to brown to brilliant blue, the distinction was clear cut and precise, as if the landscape had been cut with scissors out of construction paper and pasted together, a project created by one of Molly’s young students to be hung on the refrigerator at home.
In the summer, the difference was less defined, the white of the snow replaced by dozens of varying shades of green with sporadic splashes of color…grass, leaves, wildflowers, apple trees. It constantly amazed her how the different seasons could bring about such completely opposite color schemes. Molly said often that she really wanted to retire to someplace warmer, someplace with no winter at all, but she knew deep down that in the very soul of her being, she’d miss the change of seasons. They were in her blood. They were a part of her childhood and a part of her now and she wasn’t entirely sure she could survive being stuck in an eternal summer, no matter how much she despised being cold.
She slowed the car slightly, going from memory now, even though it had been a long while since she’d visited Amy’s cabin, and she’d ridden with Amy, so hadn’t really paid much attention to the directions. Recognizing the split-wood fence marking the property, she made a right and turned into the impeccably clear driveway, smiling at the fact that Jo had been hard at work that morning to clear the snow for her friends.
Molly could already taste the cleanliness of the country air that had worked its way through the car vents during the ride. As she turned off the ignition and got out of the car, she inhaled gradually and let the breath out bit by bit, trying hard to erase the worry and stress from her mind. She knew instinctively that a warm fire and a glass of wine were waiting for her inside. A smile touched her lips as the front door of the cabin flew open and Amy appeared in all her red-haired glory, arms outstretched, shouting her pet name for Molly as if it had been years rather than a month since they’d seen each other last.
“Primo!”
Molly was promptly enveloped in Amy’s arms and she clung tightly, feeling such relief to be held by her friend that she almost wept, her emotions were sitting so close to the surface. She managed to pull herself together before Amy let her go and held her at arms’ length, a whirlwind, as always.
“God, you are so fucking gorgeous.” Amy sounded as if she was scolding Molly, but her face shone with pride. “How is it that you always look this fucking gorgeous when the rest of us are simply getting old? Your hair looks fantastic. And you’ve been working out, haven’t you? You’ve lost weight.”
Molly let the compliments settle over her like a warm, thick, and cozy blanket, cushioning her from the current jagged rockiness of her life. She made no attempt at explaining that she seemed to have misplaced her appetite lately, thus the weight loss. Instead she allowed herself to be coddled, to be nurtured by her closest friend in the world, leaning into her shoulder, mentally letting Amy hold her up.
“Hi there, beautiful.” Jo appeared and opened her arms to Molly. She was a good six or seven inches taller and Molly always felt indescribably safe around her. Locking her arms around Jo’s neck, she hoped her solid grip didn’t feel too much like desperation. It was just so good to feel loved, and Jo had always seemed like a guardian angel, the one who could be counted on to chase the boogeyman away.
“Doesn’t she look amazing?” Amy said.
“She always does,” was Jo’s answer, as she gave Molly’s cheek a quick stroke of her thumb before moving to the back of the car.
“You should talk, Ames,” Molly said, pushing playfully at her. “I don’t know why you’re complaining about getting old. You still look thirty.”
It was true. Whether dressed to the nines or slumming it in ratty old sweats, Amy had always been a head-turner, looking classy, elegant, and approachable. It was a rare combination and one that made men and women alike stop in mid-sentence to watch her walk through her restaurant; Molly had seen it happen over and over again.
Jo knocked on the trunk and Molly obediently popped it open. Slinging a bag over her shoulder and hauling out a second one, Jo asked the question Molly had been waiting for.
“Where’s Kristin?”
“Something came up at work.” Molly leaned into the front seat to grab her shoulder bag and school her expression. She didn’t have to look to know Amy and Jo were exchanging a knowing glance over the roof of the car. “She’ll be here tomorrow.” Standing up straight, she jerked her chin toward the house and asked, “Is there wine in there?”
“You know it.” Amy hooked an arm through Molly’s and led her indoors.
“Holy shit.” Molly’s jaw dropped open as she took in an interior she didn’t recognize.
Pride flushed Amy’s cheeks. “You like it?”
“Like it? Like it? My God, Ames.” Molly turned to Jo, whose arms were still full of baggage. “Did you do all this?”
Amy answered for her. “Damn right she did.”
“Holy shit,” Molly said again as she shed her white, down-filled coat. “The last time I was here was…when?”
“Two years ago?” Amy clarified.
“At least. Too long. God, it looked like…a cabin then. Nice, but bare and…” Her voice trailed off as she searched for the right words. “Like a cabin. This is nicer than my house. Hell, this is nicer than most houses. Unbelievable.”
Amy took her coat and Molly stepped out of her hikers before following Jo and her bags up the stairs that were tucked off in a corner to the right of the living room. The walls were regular drywall, painted a soothing khaki color, but the artwork and accessories scattered about kept the overall atmosphere one of nature and the woods. Molly glanced at a painting on the wall of the stairway. It was a Native American piece showing an adult and a small child watching the sun set over a lake in autumn. The oranges, reds, and browns gave off a surprisingly soothing aura and Molly had to resist the urge to stop and stare.
Jo made a right at the top of the stairs and Molly followed her into what would be her bedroom for the week. The floor was hardwood, the visible knots lending it a rustic look. The bed was queen-sized, centered on a braided rug and made neatly with a quilt and throw pillows in the same reds, oranges, and browns of the painting with a few greens tossed in for good measure, giving the whole room a sense of earthiness and comfort.
“Jo,” she said, her voice hushed with awe as if she was afraid of disturbing the calm. “This is beautiful.”
“Thanks, Molly-girl.” Jo’s cheeks flushed with pride. “I’m glad you like it. I hope you can kick back and relax this week.”
“I’m sure as hell going to try.” Molly crossed the room to the window, which looked out the back of the house onto the yard and the woods beyond. If I can’t relax in this place, I’m doomed. “Thank you so much for inviting us. We can really use the get-away.”
The statement was a loaded one and Jo’s expression showed she understood. “The bathroom’s right here.” She indicated the room at the top of the stairs. “You’ll be sharing with two of our friends. You’ll remember Sophie, but I’m not sure you’ve ever met Laura. They’ll be in the room across the hall.”
Molly peeked into the other room. It was very much like hers but contained two twin beds instead of a queen.
“Even the youngest nieces and nephews are getting too old to share a bed,” Jo said with a wink.
Molly agreed. “I remember my teenage years, and the last thing in the world I wanted to do was share anything with my sister.”
They returned to the living room and Molly warmed her hands by the fire, amazed by how much her body and mind were already beginning to feel at ease.
Amy promptly handed her a glass of deep ruby red wine and toasted, “To the new year.”
Molly clinked her glass against Amy’s, adding, “It can only be better than the last.”
They sipped, the sound of crystal on crystal still ringing sweetly through the ro
om.
“Oh, this is good,” Molly said as a delicious warmth spread across her palate and seemed to fill her soul as well.
“One of the biggest benefits of owning a restaurant…you get to taste all the best wines.” Amy gestured to the couch. “Sit with me. Tell me what’s been happening in your life.”
*
“I’ve missed you, Ames.” Molly said two and a half hours later.
She and Amy were still chattering on like birds in springtime. Feet were curled up under legs on the couch as they faced one another, taking turns filling in the space of the last month, unable to believe they’d gone four weeks without more than a quick hello on the telephone.
“I’ve missed you, too, Primo. Any time you need to talk, call the cell phone.”
Molly grimaced and shook her head. “I don’t like to interrupt your work day. I know how busy you get.”
Amy held up a hand, forestalling any further comment. “The sale of the restaurant is almost final. I have much more free time than I used to. Besides, I wouldn’t tell you to call the cell if I was worried about you interrupting me. You’re never an interruption. Understand?” She reached over and stroked a hand affectionately down Molly’s arm.
Molly studied the empty glass in her hand, turning it slowly in her fingers and watching the tiny burgundy-colored remnant of liquid coat the bottom. “Okay.”
Before they could pick up their conversation again, the front door opened and Jo appeared from the garage where she’d been puttering, allowing the two friends time to catch up. “Look what I found wandering around outside.”
A tall, striking figure stepped through the door behind Jo, and Amy jumped up from the couch. “Sophie! You made it.”
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