A Wedding in December

by Sarah Morgan

  “You’ll always be my baby sister, no matter how old you are, in the same way we’ll always be Mum’s children even when we’re fifty.”

  How would Rosie react if Katie confided in her? Not only about the attack, but her doubts about her career choice?

  She noticed Rosie looking at her shoulder again and took off across the pool, swimming laps until the sun dipped in the sky and someone came to tell her the salon was ready for her.

  She showered and changed quickly, then sat placidly allowing the hairdresser free rein.

  “Can I add a few highlights around the front?”

  “Anything,” Katie said. “Whatever you think would look best.”

  “I’ll be doing your hair the morning of the wedding,” Becca said, “so it’s good to have a chance to work with your hair before then. Is there anything you love? Anything you hate?”

  “She’s conservative.” Rosie unscrewed the cap from her water bottle. “Don’t do anything radical.”

  “Maybe radical would be good.” Katie stared at herself in the mirror. Did she really look that pale? She needed to wear more makeup. Or find a way of getting more sleep.

  Rosie took a sip of water. “Do you have anything to wear dancing?”

  “No. I’m going to raid your wardrobe and pretend I’m a teenager again.”

  Three hours later all evidence of the use of kitchen scissors had been erased and Katie’s hair fell in soft layers around her face.

  “You look amazing.” Rosie stroked Katie’s hair back. “All you need to do now is stop frowning.”

  “Am I frowning?”

  “Always. You’re always serious.” Rosie hugged her. “This is my wedding. You’re not allowed to frown at my wedding.”

  “Where are we going tonight? I don’t want to bump into our parents and invade their second honeymoon.”

  “That isn’t going to happen. We’re going to a place that has the best DJ around. It’s very cool. And I have the perfect dress for you. I bought it to wear to a party in the summer.”

  “A frostbite dress. Yay. Do I need to point out that there are several feet of snow on the ground?”

  “I’ve messaged Dan. He is going to drive us there, and pick us up after so we won’t be outdoors for long. And you can wear your coat.”

  Back in the tree house, Rosie delved into the suitcase she’d quickly packed at the lodge. “Here.” She pulled out a dress. “Try it. I fell in love with it the moment I saw it.”

  “Like you did with Dan?”

  Her sister laughed. “I guess so. Only he’s a whole lot warmer than that dress.”

  Katie pulled the dress over her head. “I am too old to wear this.”

  “No, you think you’re too old and you act too old, but tonight you’re going to leave your overdeveloped sense of responsibility behind and throw your young and sexy self onto that dance floor.”

  “They probably won’t let me in.”

  “It’s exclusive, that’s true, but everyone knows the Reynolds family around here.”

  “We’re not members of the Reynolds family.”

  “We soon will be.” Rosie wriggled into a scarlet jumpsuit. “Rosie Reynolds sounds cool, don’t you think?”

  “You’re marrying him for his name? Only kidding!” Katie intercepted Rosie’s warning look. “You look incredible. Like something that fell off the Christmas tree.”

  “I’m pretending that’s a compliment.”

  “It is a compliment. You’re very stylish. I’ve always said so.”

  “Wait until the wedding. It’s going to be perfect.”

  “Catherine seems to have done most of it, and she’s not even your mother.” And she’d wondered about that. Was their own mother upset that she wasn’t more involved in the detail of her daughter’s wedding? Was she watching the plans drift past her, just beyond her reach and feeling sad that she was an observer and not a participant? While Catherine chose silk, and flowers, and pondered over menus, did their own mother feel grateful or replaced? She was such a hands-on, involved and caring parent, she had to be upset, surely? Thinking about it, Katie had a renewed respect for her mother, who never put pressure on either of her girls. Not once had she been anything but supportive of Rosie. “Talking of our mother, I need to forward that photo. She’ll love it.”

  And tomorrow morning first thing Katie was going to check on her. Give her a chance to talk about how she felt about the wedding.

  “Catherine is amazing. What woman wouldn’t want to have the whole thing arranged for her by a professional?” It didn’t seem to have occurred to Rosie that their mother might have feelings on the topic.

  “You. You used to daydream about weddings.” Katie dug in her bag for her mascara. “Normally you’d be saying, I really want eucalyptus—oh wait, I’ve changed my mind—maybe ivy—but when it comes to this wedding, you don’t seem to say much. You’re happy with everything? I’m worried she’s railroading you.” Even without looking at her sister’s face she knew she’d done it again. “Forget I said that. She loves you. I can see that.”

  “You can’t help yourself, can you?” Rosie’s cheeks were flushed. “Why are you so convinced that this marriage is a mistake? You’re as bad as Grandma.”

  “We never met our grandmother.”

  “I know, but Mum has told us how she disapproved of them getting married so fast. And look how it turned out.”

  Katie thought about her parents rolling together in the snow like children, and off on a romantic date. “You’re right. I’m being ridiculous.” She had to stop this. She had to stop always looking at the evidence that supported the bad, instead of the good. Why was she such a mess? Whatever the reason, it was up to her to sort it out.

  She had to stop protecting her sister, and instead support her.

  She crossed the room and hugged Rosie. “Tell me you’re happy. That’s all I want to hear.”

  “I’m happy.”

  “That is the only thing I care about. Apart from dancing, of course. I care about dancing. Is that Dan outside?” She grabbed her coat and her bag. “Let’s do this. Let’s have fun.”

  From now on she was forcing herself to focus on the positive, not the negative.

  Every time a dark thought entered her mind about the risk of whirlwind relationships, she was going to think of her parents rolling in the snow. Her parents kissing like teenagers.

  It had worked out for them. There was no reason why it couldn’t work out for Rosie.

  Maggie

  “When Catherine said the restaurant was in the mountains, I didn’t realize it was literally in the mountains and that we had to ride in a snowcat to get here.” Maggie walked the few steps to the cabin and into the welcome warmth. She sniffed the air. “Herbs and garlic. Smells good.”

  “And we’re going back on the horse-drawn sleigh. I’m not sure if that will be better or worse.” Nick handed his coat and scarf to the restaurant staff, scattering snow across the floor. “Are you cold?”

  “No. Those blankets they gave us were warm.” And she’d had to slide close to him on the seat to make room for others. Her thigh had pressed against the length of his thigh, her arm against his arm, two halves pressed together as if they were a whole. She’d had to remind herself that they weren’t a whole. That their two well-fitting pieces had been split apart. But her mind had refused to cooperate and had dragged her back to that moment earlier in the tree house. Heated from the inside, she’d barely noticed the cold.

  Even now, as he helped her with her coat, she noticed the light brush of his fingers against her neck. It was as if her body was suddenly supersensitive to his touch.

  He handed her coat to the staff. “Apparently it’s possible to snowshoe up here, too.”

  “I’m glad we took the snowcat option. There are limits to my need for adventure and I don’t want to
have to work that hard for my dinner. Are we seriously going back down in a horse-drawn sleigh? Will the horse be friendly?”

  “As long as it gets us safely back down the mountain I don’t much care about its personality.”

  “I suppose you’re going to tell me that camels are worse.”

  “Camels are definitely worse.”

  They were shown to their table, and Maggie slid into her chair by the window. Even though she felt unsettled and more than a little confused by her own feelings, it was impossible not to be charmed by the atmosphere. As they’d crawled up the slope in the snowcat, she’d wondered if the journey would be worth it, but her first glimpse of the place had convinced her that it was. The Alpine-style restaurant nestled in the trees, halfway up the mountain. It was a cozy retreat from the frozen world outside, its wooden walls lit by tiny lights, and the air scented by wood smoke and wholesome cooking.

  It was dark outside so the view was limited, but the lights from the cabin lit up the surrounding forest and trails.

  “It’s pretty.” Snow floated and swirled past the window, gentle but relentless. “Do you think we’ll be snowed in?”

  He slid on his glasses and opened his menu. “I don’t know, but being trapped in a restaurant wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. The wine list looks good, and at least we won’t go hungry.”

  She glanced around her. All the tables were occupied. “It’s obviously the place to spend a romantic evening.”

  “Presumably that’s why Catherine chose it.”

  Maggie felt like a fraud. They were surrounded by couples enjoying their relationship. She and Nick were faking theirs.

  “Champagne, courtesy of Mrs. Reynolds.”

  Two glasses were placed in front of them along with a small plate of canapés and Maggie waited until they were alone again before she caught Nick’s eye. “Don’t say it.”

  “What?”

  “You were going to make a reference to what happened last time I drank champagne.”

  “I was not. This is one glass, Mags. You emptied the drinks cabinet on the flight. In fact France might now have a champagne shortage.”

  “Thank you for your tact and delicacy, and for respecting my wish to forget it.”

  “Why would you want to forget it?”

  “Because I was an embarrassment to my entire family. Well, not Katie because she didn’t witness it, but no doubt Rosie will have shared the horrors of it by now.” She’d always been pleased that the two girls had each other. She would have loved a sibling.

  She studied the menu and then put it down and caught Nick smiling at her. “What?”

  “I happen to think you were adorable.”

  “Adorable?”

  “When you consumed the champagne. You lost your inhibitions.”

  “You mean I all but molested you in front of my daughter and her soon-to-be husband. And told them this was a second honeymoon. If it weren’t for that champagne, we wouldn’t be sitting here now.”

  “I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.” He raised his glass, “To us.”

  Her heart gave a little kick. “There is no ‘us,’ Nick. We’re divorcing, remember?”

  “Not tonight. Tonight we’re on our second honeymoon, although I feel compelled to point out that we had no money on our first honeymoon so the food and drink were nowhere near as impressive. This version is vastly superior.”

  Everything about him was light, whereas she felt weighed down and heavy.

  Pretending in front of the people she loved was one thing, but this was different. This felt real.

  “No one is watching.”

  “We don’t know that. You want it to get back to Catherine that we repaid her hospitality by fighting?”

  “We don’t fight.” She felt exhausted. It could have been the physical activity but she thought it was probably something else. Something she didn’t want to think about.

  “You’re right. We don’t.” He studied her. “Why don’t we?”

  “I suppose after all the years we’ve been together, we’ve learned what works and what doesn’t.” Marriage was like a dance, trying to move to the rhythm of life, searching for a pace and a path that suited both people. Some floundered, but they hadn’t. They’d simply spun away from each other.

  She lifted her glass. She didn’t want to toast “us.” She didn’t want to toast the future, because right now she wasn’t sure she liked the way it looked. Toasting the past was likely to make her feel sad. The only thing left to toast was the present. “To now. This evening. May the horse not run away with us down the mountain.”

  “That sounds like a metaphor for life.” He tapped his glass against hers. “To an evening of fun.”

  “Fake fun.”

  “The fun doesn’t have to be fake.” He closed the menu. “There was nothing fake about our snowball fight. I enjoyed it. Probably because I won.”

  Maggie choked on her champagne. “I won!”

  “That’s not how I remember it.”

  “Then you have a selective memory.”

  “That last shot that went right down your front? That was a winner.”

  “Next time I’m not going to spare you. Prepare to be defeated, Professor.”

  “Your aim isn’t good enough to defeat me.” He pushed his glasses up his nose and the familiarity of the gesture made her heart ache.

  She missed this. She missed their little exchanges across the meal table. She missed those small gestures that were part of him, and that she knew so well.

  He pushed the plate of canapés closer to her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “I was planning my strategy for the next snowball fight.” She put her menu down and selected a small creation of smoked salmon and fresh chive.

  “It doesn’t matter what your strategy is, I’m ready for you. You’re going to lose. Have you chosen?”

  “I’m having the goat’s cheese.”

  “You can’t. I’m having the goat’s cheese.”

  “We’re allowed to eat the same thing.”

  He frowned. “We never eat the same thing in a restaurant. We always split. That way we try more than one dish.”

  Splitting dishes was something they’d done when they were young and didn’t have the money to eat out often. It was a way of trying as many different things as possible on the menu. Try this. Taste this. “Not always. Remember the lobster?”

  “Of course. That dinner is scarred into my soul. You refused to share. It was the one and only time.”

  “It was good lobster.”

  “You’re telling me that now? Have you no heart?”

  She definitely had a heart. Hers was bruised and sore, as if someone had reached inside her chest and punched it. Far from being a respite, this trip was making it worse.

  “If you want to share, why don’t you have the smoked fish?”

  “Good plan.”

  They ordered the food and she took a sip of her champagne. “It tastes like celebration, which is somewhat ironic in the circumstances. What are we celebrating?”

  “Our skills at performing arts, maybe. Certainly not your aim with a snowball.”

  She was grateful for the humor. “There’s nothing wrong with my aim. I was being gentle with you. I didn’t want you to be soaking wet for the ride home.”

  “I believe you. You don’t have a ruthless bone in your body. The woman in charge of the place told me you’re the first client who has ever asked if she is too heavy for the sled dogs.”

  “It seemed like a perfectly reasonable question to me. Dogs aren’t that big. I worried about them, that’s all.” She fiddled with the stem of her glass. “I had a good time.”

  “Me too. I am never going to forget your face when those dogs took off. They didn’t seem to have much trouble pul
ling you.” He was laughing and suddenly she was laughing, too.

  “They didn’t take off. I was in control at all times.” She saw a woman sitting at the next table glance at them. “We’re being too loud.”

  “I don’t care. It’s good to hear you laugh.” He paused. “We had fun this afternoon.”

  “We did. It was relaxing. Being out in the forest, with nothing but the sound of the dogs and the cold air on your face—” and being with Nick. The man she’d once loved and still loved as much as ever. Despite the broken pieces, she still loved him.

  The realization came as a shock.

  His gaze held hers. “When did we stop having fun, Mags? When did we stop doing things together?”

  Their appetizers arrived before she could answer, and she picked up her fork.

  He leaned forward. “Let me ask a different question—why did we stop doing things together?”

  “I don’t know. Life, I suppose. You were busy. Working. Traveling. I was focusing on the girls. It happens.”

  “Fun should have happened, too. We should have made the time. Been creative. Let’s be honest, would we have thought to do any of these things if Catherine hadn’t arranged them for us?”

  “No. Because these are couples activities, and we’re not a couple. We haven’t been for a while. We’re together because our daughter is getting married.”

  “That’s my point—we wouldn’t have done them even when we were a couple.”

  Maggie’s phone buzzed and she reached for her bag, grateful for the distraction. Did she really want to dissect the past? How was that going to help?

  Nick sighed. “Do you have to check that? This is supposed to be a romantic dinner.”

  “Fake romantic dinner. And Catherine isn’t likely to be watching over our shoulders, is she? One of the girls might need me.” She glanced at her phone.

  “They’re adults, Mags. They can handle life for five minutes without your intervention. If it was an asthma attack they’d be calling you, not messaging.”

  Maggie ignored him. Katie had sent her a photo of the two of them wearing their dresses, arms looped round each other, smiles on their faces. Her girls. “They had a dress fitting this afternoon.” While she’d been on a sled ride with Nick. She felt a pang, as if she’d lost something she’d never get back. “Catherine must have taken the photo. Look.” She turned her phone so that he could see the screen and he gave a brief smile.