This Christmas

by Olivia Miles

  Just as often as Tess cooked, she was too busy with homework or the after-school jobs she took on as soon she was able to work, and then they got used to microwaved dinners or cold cereal for dinner—something that Jules still ate most nights because it was strangely comforting. But something told her that cold cereal wasn’t an option in Tess’s house, and she wasn’t sure that she should sit around and wait for Tess to cook for them, either.

  Every other time she had come to town, Tess had cooked big meals, including a dessert course. But that was before…and the fact that Tess wasn’t popping a pot roast in the oven told Jules that despite her stiff upper lip, Tess was not herself and that Jules was right to have come here.

  She glanced at the clock in the hallway. She’d been reading a magazine and trying not to think about Aaron ever since Phoebe had run upstairs to see her mother, who had spent the better part of the afternoon upstairs since returning this morning.

  Carrie had arrived shortly thereafter, and also shut herself in her room.

  Jules refused to do the same, even though it was tempting. About as tempting as texting Aaron, or calling him. Because that’s what she would have done, any other time. And that’s what she wanted to do. Desperately.

  He always added levity to a situation, even one as tense as this. And he always made her feel better.

  Well, she’d just have to find another reason to feel better. She stood, walked up the stairs and went to Tess’s bedroom door.

  Memories of turning the knob to a room darkened by drawn curtains and a lump in the bed in the shape of her mother made her uneasy.

  She knocked first, bracing herself, but Tess opened the door fully clothed, her bedroom lit warmly by lamps, with Phoebe on the bed watching a television that was housed in an armoire in the corner near the window. The only sign that things were amiss was the pale complexion of Tess’s cheeks. On the desk near the window, a laptop was open, bills shed of their envelopes.

  “Just wondering if you were up for dinner in town again?” Jules ventured. Her stomach rumbled. She wondered if Tess even had cereal. It seemed that Phoebe ate oatmeal for breakfast. Jules hated oatmeal. It reminded her of the mushy, overcooked pasta of her youth.

  “I have some work to do tonight,” Tess said, by way of apology. “Bills and paperwork.”

  She gave Jules a look that seemed to imply that Jules wouldn’t understand such responsibilities. And maybe she didn’t. She’d never been married. Never had a child. But she’d never ruled it out, either. After all, she’d never thought she’d try for a permanent position either. Only that had been the ultimate lesson, the one she’d already known, deep down. Be careful what you want, because it might not turn out the way you had hoped. And then, all that’s left is disappointment, and sometimes, worse.

  “Okay, well, mind if I go?” Jules asked. “I have a little cabin fever.”

  That was an understatement. She’d spent the afternoon reading, but she couldn’t focus on the book and her eyes kept drifting. She’d reread the same page for a solid hour before she gave up and tried another, only to be stuck with the same problem.

  No word from Aaron. And Aaron was all she could think about. And she didn’t know how she felt about that. She only knew one thing, and that was that she didn’t feel good. Didn’t feel good missing him, didn’t like the way her stomach felt all funny at the thought of not talking to him. Didn’t like that she’d gotten to this place at all.

  “Of course,” Tess said, seeming relieved. “Sorry I haven’t been up for much today. I’ve been preoccupied.”

  “Anything you want to talk about?” Jules asked hopefully, but Tess just shook her head, shutting down any chance of sisterly bonding. Jules sighed in defeat. “Okay, well, I’ll leave you to it. Don’t wait up for me.”

  Neither of them mentioned Carrie, but somehow, Jules knew that they were both thinking of her. She could ask Carrie, get her out of the house. That would probably be the best thing to do, and she could use the company. It might take her mind off Aaron. Might make her heart feel a little less empty, which made no sense, because usually, that was his role.

  She walked down the hallway to the back bedroom. The door was shut and no sound came from the other side, but she could see light filtering through the gap near the floorboards. Jules hesitated. Something had seemed off with Carrie when they’d been decorating, and she hadn’t spoken since returning hours ago, either.

  Still, she knocked anyway. She owed it to Tess to get Carrie out of the house, even if some time together was exactly what her two older sisters needed. Carrie came to the door with wide eyes, but seemed to relax when she saw that Jules wasn’t Tess.

  Jules pursed her lips. By the end of this week, she was determined to make her sisters close again.

  And closer to her, too.

  “I’m heading into town for dinner. Just me,” she added, lest there be any confusion. “Want to come along?”

  Carrie nodded eagerly. “Just give me five minutes.”

  Good, Jules thought as she walked down the stairs. By the end of the night she hoped to get to the bottom of what seemed to be bothering Carrie, because she suspected it was more than her strained relationship with Tess.

  And it was much easier to focus on Carrie’s problems than her own.

  Preston’s was just as busy tonight as it had been last night, and Jules and Carrie had to push their way past the crowd of waiting customers near the door to grab two spots at the bar just as a couple was leaving.

  Jeff’s face lit up when he saw them, and then flitted to the empty space behind them, his disappointment noticeable.

  “Tess is home with Phoebe,” Jules clarified, and then did her best to hide her smile. She leaned in to Carrie when Jeff’s attention was pulled away by a customer asking for another round. “I’m beginning to think there might be something brewing between those two.”

  Carrie looked at her in shock. “Between Jeff and Tess?” She shook her head. “They’re just friends. They’ve been friends forever.” She shrugged off her coat, shaking her head, as if determined to show her disagreement.

  True, Tess had been friends with Jeff since childhood, and mostly through Andrew, but Jules had noticed a shift in their dynamic last night and Jeff couldn’t seem to hide the fact that he was let down by Tess not being here with them tonight.

  He came over to them with a slightly resigned smile. “What’ll it be?”

  Since they’d walked over, Jules ordered a holiday special cocktail and Carrie did the same. They sipped their drinks while they studied the menu. Carrie was quiet, more quiet than usual, and she was still yet to mention Lucas, when usually, that was all she could talk about.

  Still, her phone was on the table, as it often was the rare times she was ever without him—the one time Jules could recall being their mother’s funeral, right around the time that Carrie became serious about Lucas.

  Maybe she felt guilty mentioning Lucas, Jules thought. After all, there was no confusion that he had played a role in Carrie not coming to town last winter. But Tess wasn’t here right now. It was just the two of them. And Carrie knew she could tell Jules anything. Didn’t she?

  Jules fought the urge to pull out her own phone, but knew it was pointless. Normally she and Aaron texted throughout the day or made quick calls to share some latest news. But since Saturday, there had been nothing but silence. For the first time since she’d met him, she had no idea what he was doing tonight. He was probably packing for the upcoming weekend, getting ready to spend a cozy Christmas at his parents’ cabin in Maine as he did every year. Jules pictured the tree in the corner and the stockings hanging from the mantle and the fire blazing in the fireplace. There would be bowls of popcorn and endless holiday movies and puzzles and games and joy and laughter. Jules couldn’t help herself; she was starting to wish that she was there for Christmas instead of here, with two sisters who seemed determined to shut her out.

  She supposed she could leave early. Say she had gotten a fre
elance gig (that would please Tess more than upset her) and take the bus up with Aaron like they always did, sitting side by side, their bags packed with snacks for the long ride that didn’t feel long at all when they were together.

  Only Aaron wouldn’t want her there. Not unless…

  She flipped to the back of the menu, trying not to think about it.

  Carrie tapped her arm and leaned in. “Isn’t that Cole?”

  Jules felt her pulse skip a beat. Cole Dempsey had been her high school boyfriend. The longest relationship she’d ever had at four months. They’d gone to senior prom together, signed each other’s yearbooks and spent one last wonderful summer here in Winter Lake, back when Jules was the last remaining sister in the house and Tess had already married and tucked into a house of her own, even if she did invite Jules to Sunday dinner each week and send her home with containers full of leftovers.

  Cole had loved her, and though she’d never said it to him in return, a part of her had loved him, too. For getting her out of the house. For caring. For being there when she needed someone the most. For being fun, because she needed a little fun to look forward to each day. By then, their childhood home was quiet, too quiet, and while her mother spent more time turning the wood in her studio into something functional and beautiful than lying in bed, she was still distant and distracted.

  She scanned the room, looking for a hint of dark hair and brooding eyes. Back in high school, he’d ridden a motorcycle, something that had thrilled her to no end. He used to take her for rides, all along the back roads of town where there weren’t any cars, and she’d hold onto his waist, feel the wind in her face, and the sense of adventure and excitement that could only come from living in the moment and not worrying about the past or the future.

  Her gaze landed on a guy at the back of the room. She hadn’t seen him in at least five years—hadn’t bumped into him her last two visits to town, which wasn’t surprising, given the somber nature of her visits. His hair was shorter, but he was otherwise unchanged.

  And the little flutter in her stomach hadn’t changed much either.

  He caught her eye and she stiffened. She could look away, quickly, or she could do something bolder. She waved. After all, he was an old friend. It would be rude to ignore him.

  She waited to see how he would respond. Did he hate her for breaking up with him? Or was it old news, forgotten history?

  He waved back. She felt inexplicably relieved, forgiven. Like she wasn’t the worst person in the world, like she hadn’t gone around hurting men to the point of never being forgiven. Maybe if Cole could move on, still be on good terms with her, then Aaron could too.

  “He’s coming over here,” Carrie hissed, her eyes lighting up with excitement. Before Jules could process what was happening, her sister had hopped off her barstool, grabbed her cell phone, and was striding to the back of the room. Probably to call Lucas. How convenient.

  Jules looked to the door and then to the bar, hoping that Jeff might use this time to come up, chat about Tess, but he was busy with some women at the end of the bar. Tourists, Jules assessed, in town for a ski week.

  Cole grinned as he approached and then shook his head as he slid into Carrie’s spot. “Julie Campbell,” he said, looking straight into her eyes. She’d forgotten about those eyes. How intense they were. How you felt like the center of the world when Cole looked at you like that.

  “Cole Dempsey,” she said. She reached for her drink. God knew she needed it.

  “I thought that was you,” he said. He wasn’t shy in looking her up and down. “What brings you to town?”

  “My sisters and I are celebrating Christmas here,” she said. Celebrating was a bit of a stretch. More like going through the motions. Avoiding topics. Avoiding each other.

  “I hear you’re still in Boston,” he said, and Jules couldn’t help but feel flattered. He’d followed up on her.

  She nodded. “Still in Boston.” She omitted the part about still being in her post-college apartment and her current unemployment status. “And what are you up to?”

  “Still working at the resort,” he said, referring to his job as a ski instructor that he’d had since graduation. “You ever write that book you talked about?”

  She blinked at him for a moment. “I can’t believe that you remember that.” She’d practically forgotten it herself. That last summer here in town, she’d been full of big dreams. They were her escape from the daily routine, much as the stories she immersed herself in had served in her childhood. Once she’d gone to Boston, she didn’t need to think about a fictional life, far from Winter Lake. By the time she arrived in Boston, she had a new reality, a new life, and she didn’t have to worry about the past catching up with her.

  “I remember a lot of things about you, Jules. I remember that you broke my heart.” He raised his eyebrows at her, as if challenging her to respond to that, even though he was grinning.

  She narrowed her eyes at him and then, after a beat, gave him a swat on the arm. “Oh, please. You had me replaced before I crossed the state line.” Cole had never been single for long. It was part of his appeal. Part of what made it easy to stay with him a little longer than the others. He was looking for fun. Nothing too serious. She didn’t have to worry about hurting him or getting hurt.

  Her chest tugged for a moment when she thought of how different it was with Aaron. The way his eyes had drooped with sadness the last time she’d seen him.

  “You going to the Christmas Festival?” he asked. The Christmas Festival was one of the biggest events of the year, held the day before Christmas Eve, every year. The entire town joined in the event, with shops offering specials and businesses closing to partake in the festivities.

  She grinned. It was a tradition in their family to attend these local events—magical moments of her childhood that were all too uncommon and that she liked to hold onto. “I’ll probably be at the Ice Fest too.”

  “Maybe I’ll see you there, then,” he said, his eyes twinkling.

  “Maybe you will.” She did a poor job of hiding her smile as he hopped off the barstool and skimmed her cheek with a kiss. He smelled musky and woody and felt warm and solid and she could feel her heart racing from the proximity.

  Butterflies. It was what you were supposed to feel, wasn’t it? Not just comfort of routine and companionship and all of that. You needed chemistry. Attraction. Excitement. That was the difference between friends and…something more.

  And Aaron would soon discover that. Only she couldn’t let him discover that the hard way, once they’d tried and failed to be more to each other than they really were. Because then their friendship would never be saved, and he’d really be out of her life forever.

  And that was something that she couldn’t let happen. No matter what.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Carrie

  Carrie wasn’t sure how she expected this Christmas to go exactly, but it certainly wasn’t turning out in her favor. Tess still hadn’t spoken to her since their argument yesterday morning, and Jules had spent half the evening flirting with Cole Dempsey and then talking about him, leaving Carrie to order one too many candy cane cocktails that now made her stomach roil at the mere thought of anything flavored with mint.

  She held her toothbrush in her hand and the tube of toothpaste in the other, trying to summon up the courage to get this daily routine over with. Maybe Phoebe had some kid-flavored option, something in the bubblegum family? Anything but mint would do.

  She decided to find out. She wandered into her niece’s pink and white bedroom, her heart hurting just a little when she saw all the careful details that Tess had overseen: the billowing curtains that framed the bay window, the array of mix-matched yet color-coordinated pillows along its seat. A bookshelf was stacked with classics for little girls, and a hand-painted tea set was set up on a play table in the corner. On Phoebe’s bedside table was a jewelry box, and, tempted, Carrie walked over to it and lifted the lid, just to see the ballerina t
urning inside.

  She closed the lid as soon as the music started, feeling like a voyeur in her own sister’s house. A fresh wave of self-pity reared before she could stop it.

  She would never have a child of her own at this rate. She was thirty-three years old and single. She was starting over. It could take years before she ended up married, much less engaged, and how many men would she have to date before she found an actual relationship? How many of them would be first date disasters? How many of them would let her down a week, a month, a year into things?

  Before Lucas, she’d rarely had more than a two-month relationship, and not for lack of trying. The guys before him weren’t committed. But then, she supposed, blinking back tears, neither was Lucas. Her dreams had all seemed within her reach, and now the girl with her scarf would be living the life she was supposed to have.

  It wasn’t fair.

  Although, she thought, thinking of Tess and Phoebe and Andrew, who’d had the rock-solid family she’d always pined for, life wasn’t fair at all.

  She walked into Phoebe’s en suite bathroom, made up in a theme of mermaids. She smeared sparkly pink toothpaste on her toothbrush and tried not to think of how different her shared room with Tess was growing up from this airy, happy space. There had been no white furniture or custom-made curtains with matching throw pillows in their bedroom. There were two beds. Some mismatched quilts for function. A heap of toys and books and markers and paper and anything else the girls collected along the way. They had free rein to make it their own, whereas clearly Tess had full authority on how Phoebe’s room was decorated. Carrie had cut out pictures from catalogues and magazines and made a collage on the wall above their beds, she remembered. And Tess had strung Christmas lights from the windows that remained there all year long. She said it made everything more beautiful. More magical.