The Winter Wedding Plan--An unforgettable story of love, betrayal, and sisterhood

by Olivia Miles

  Charlotte said nothing as she took a sip of her coffee, the weight of sadness settling in her chest. She had a sister, yes. A sister who employed her and who loved her daughter and who knew her. Too well at times. But it wasn’t the same as having someone to confide in. And that was entirely her fault.

  * * *

  Kate was standing in her parents’ empty kitchen, surrounded by packing boxes, when Charlotte scooted past the moving men, holding Audrey in the crook of her arm as she managed to feed her a bottle. Kate glanced up from the newspaper she was holding, blinking in distraction for a moment, but as soon as her gaze fell on her niece, her expression transformed.

  She quickly folded the newspaper and shoved it into her black leather tote. “May I?” she asked, glancing at Charlotte for approval.

  “Of course.” Charlotte handed over the baby, who started to wail as the bottle was teased from her mouth, until Kate quickly popped it back in. “Any good leads in the society section today?”

  Kate looked startled. “What? Oh, no. I have my hands full anyway.” She looked back at Audrey quickly, and Charlotte felt that familiar sense of unease that she often had when she was alone with her sister anymore. Yes, they’d moved forward, but there was still something there, under the surface, reminding her that things were different now.

  “Where are Mom and Dad?” She scanned the adjacent rooms, seeing no sign of them. Was this how it would be when they were gone? At the office, the sisters at least had matters to discuss. But when the workday was over, they were left with stilted chitchat and bad memories.

  “They’re down in the basement. You know I won’t go down there.”

  Charlotte laughed in spite of herself. Kate had always been afraid of that basement, ever since Charlotte had locked her down there for a few hours, after Kate had tattled on her for eating all of the brownies her mother had made for the school bake sale the next morning.

  “We must have been what, eight and ten then?”

  Kate shook her head. “It could have been yesterday. I kept waiting for Mom to hear me pounding on the door.”

  Charlotte looked at her sister guiltily. “She was next door at Mrs. Paulsen’s house. That lady could talk.”

  Kate laughed. “She still can! Careful, I saw her prowling around out front when the moving vans pulled up.”

  Charlotte looked at her sister thoughtfully. “You never told on me for locking you down there, did you?”

  “No.” Kate slipped her a smile. “I figured we were sort of even.”

  Even. If only it were so easy to settle the score now.

  “Well.” She shifted the weight on her feet, uncomfortable. She didn’t like thinking of all the times she went wrong, and all the times Kate still took her back. “I suppose we should go up to our rooms and save what we can.”

  They walked up the stairs in silence. Audrey was gurgling behind her, happy to be in her aunt’s arms. Usually the sound of her daughter’s voice cheered her, but as Charlotte skimmed her hand up the banister, her heart felt heavy. She’d only just finally made it home after a year away. And now that home was being taken from her again.

  No more Thanksgiving meals gathered at the dining room table. Or Christmas, for that matter.

  “Who will host Christmas?” she asked aloud as she reached the landing.

  “I suppose I will,” Kate said. “Or maybe Aunt Ellen can have us over. Between you and me, I don’t really feel up to guests this holiday. Not with my wedding in January.”

  Charlotte nodded mutely. Of course. Kate wouldn’t want the trouble of being hostess, not when she took the role so seriously. She wouldn’t be the kind to put out a plate of cheese and crackers and a bottle of wine the way Charlotte would. No, Kate liked details. Lots of them. So of course she couldn’t take on the responsibility of entertaining right now.

  Any more than she could probably take on the responsibility of a houseguest. Or two.

  Good thing that Charlotte wasn’t planning to ask.

  Her stomach felt a little sick when she thought of her options. She walked into her room and sat down on her bed. Or the mattress, really. Her mother had taken the bedding to the Goodwill the day after Thanksgiving, supposedly. She knew she had no use for twin-sized bedding, and she of all people should know how much something pretty could mean to someone in need, but she couldn’t fight the hot tears that welled in her eyes when she thought of all the times she dropped onto this very bed, on her pink-striped bedding. She’d line her dolls up in a precise order against the frilly throw pillows, kissing each one before she left for school. Later, when the dolls were dumped in the closet, she’d lay on this bed and stare at the posters of teen idols she’d ripped from glossy magazines. Might have even kissed a few of them on her way to school, too, come to think of it.

  The pressure in her chest was heavy. She stood up, opened a few drawers and cracked the closet door, but everything had been cleared out. To think that just a few days ago she had imagined herself living in this room again.

  Kate was standing in the doorway when Charlotte closed the closet. She jumped at the sight of her sister. “Nothing left to take,” she said.

  Kate sighed. “It’s strange. Seeing the house empty this way. It feels like a lifetime of memories are just…gone. I mean, I know they say they are coming back, and most of everything went into storage, but it still feels permanent.”

  Charlotte pointed to the closet door frame. “Remember the way Dad used to measure us? Every birthday and the first day of school.” She crouched to look at the faded lines on the white paint. At the passing of time etched in pencil. And she suddenly wondered if she’d ever have the security of living in a place long enough to mark her own child’s growth over the years.

  The thought of it saddened her, and she turned away.

  “Remember how you tried to paint your bedroom black that one time, and Mom smelled the fumes from downstairs and caught you before you’d made three brushstrokes?”

  Charlotte burst out laughing and crossed the room to slide the dresser over a few feet. Sure enough, a big smear of black paint was slashed across the wallpaper. “She had to rearrange my entire room. It was that or put up new wallpaper.”

  “I don’t know which idea was worse. Painting it black, or trying to paint over wallpaper.”

  Charlotte shook her head. “I’ve certainly put everyone through a lot of grief over the years.”

  Kate didn’t meet her eyes, and Charlotte knew it was on purpose. “Well, teenagers. You’ll have your own someday.” She grinned and, so help her, Audrey giggled.

  “No. No, Audrey will be different.” Charlotte was adamant.

  “Sure she will!” Kate said, rolling her eyes.

  Her mother’s voice could be heard in the hall now, ordering the movers in the direction of her room.

  Kate opened the door. “I think I’ll go see if Dad needs help. He’ll probably want to take a few more pictures of Audrey, too.”

  In the hall, Charlotte could hear Kate talking to her mother in low tones, and finally, heard her descending the stairs. Charlotte swept her eyes over the room once more and then, with one last glance at the height chart, closed the door behind her.

  It wasn’t forever, she told herself. And maybe it was for the best. If she’d moved back home now, would she ever have dared to try things on her own again?

  This was a nudge. A big one. Another one. And she wasn’t sure how much further she could be pushed.

  Her mother’s smile was strained when Charlotte met her in the hall. “I was going to save this for Audrey for Christmas, but, well, I thought you might want to take it with you.” She held out a small cloth doll that had been Charlotte’s favorite as a toddler.

  “Nina!” Charlotte gasped, taking the small toy. “Where’d you find her?”

  “In the basement, in that old, broken bassinet. I washed it by hand, but I’m afraid she’s well loved.”

  That was putting it mildly. Her pink dress was faded and a few threads ha
d come loose, but Charlotte didn’t care. She stroked the cloth. It was still soft. “She’s going to cherish this. Thank you.” She gave a watery smile as her mother’s forehead creased. “It’s going to be okay, Mom.”

  Was it? She wasn’t so sure. And from the look on her mother’s face, she wasn’t, either.

  “I know your father’s mother needs us, but this all just happened so much more quickly than I expected it would. And during the holidays…” From downstairs there was the peal of a baby’s giggle, and Maura put her hand to her heart. “I’m going to miss my girls.”

  “And we’ll miss you, Mom. But we’ll be fine.” Her smile felt brittle.

  “And it’s only temporary.”

  Charlotte nodded. “I know.”

  “And we’ll be back for Christmas. We’re spending Christmas Eve with Granny, and then we’ll fly back to Misty Point that night. We’ll stay with Kate,” her mother added, as if there were any possibility of her parents staying at her cramped one-bedroom apartment.

  “That’s only a few weeks away.” Charlotte brightened at the thought.

  “Tomorrow’s December first!” Maura announced, but the words hit Charlotte like a jolt of cold water.

  She hadn’t paid November rent yet. And now December’s would be due. If she didn’t get her act together soon, her parents wouldn’t be the only ones staying with Kate for the holidays.

  She frowned at the thought of resorting to asking her sister for anything more than she’d already given.

  “Baby’s first Christmas,” her mother was saying now as she took the box from Charlotte’s arms and began carrying it down the stairs. “It’s going to be the best Christmas ever!”

  Charlotte hesitated with her hand on the rail. Best Christmas ever.

  Suddenly that felt very far from possible.

  Chapter Four

  Gregory Frost stood in the middle of the great room of his Misty Point home, not concerned with the tarps that covered the furnishings and the layer of dust that had accumulated on the mantel and windowsills, not even the slightest bit distracted by the sweeping views of the icy waves crashing against the rocky cliffs at the edge of his estate. Coffee in hand, he rocked back on his heels and scowled into the mug, then looked up and assessed the twelve-foot spruce wedged in the corner of the room with a curl of his lip.

  “What’s this?” he asked, when the family’s long-time caretaker, Marlene, came into the room.

  She pulled a tarp off an armchair and gave the seat cushion a hard punch. In the glow of the morning light filtering through the windows, Greg watched as the dust particles danced through the air. “What’s what?” she asked. She folded the tarp and set it on the floor.

  Greg casually pointed in the direction of the offensive object, and Marlene’s soft gray eyes widened in surprise. “Well, it’s a Christmas tree, of course!” She smiled quizzically and resumed her task with a less-than-subtle shake of her head.

  “Yes, I know it’s a Christmas tree,” Greg said wearily, “but what is it doing here?”

  “It’s tradition to set up the tree right after Thanksgiving in my family,” Marlene said with a fond smile. She unveiled a large honey-colored suede sofa and tossed the tarp next to the others. “When you said you were returning to Misty Point for the holidays, I had it ordered.”

  “Well, I wish you wouldn’t have,” Greg said, frowning. “With everything that’s happened recently, I’m not really feeling the holiday spirit this year.”

  Marlene paused midtask and regarded him hesitantly. She’d been with the family for years, taking care of the house even when it wasn’t in use, which was often, and she was the only person outside of Greg’s circle of friends in Boston who knew the circumstances of his return. “Of course. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ll have it taken away, if that’s what you prefer.”

  “Thank you.”

  With an apologetic smile, Marlene swept up the tarps and left the room, leaving Greg once again to himself. He wandered to the front of the room, where tall windows looked out onto the snow-covered lawn, and sighed deeply. The last time he’d been to Misty Point was Labor Day weekend. He had come with Rebecca, of course. They’d relaxed on the deck, drank sangria and eaten lobster rolls, and chatted casually about their wedding plans until the sun had faded over the bluffs and fallen into the sea.

  He turned away from the window. There was no need to think about that anymore.

  “Greg?” Marlene stood in the entranceway to the hall. “Your mother’s on the phone. Would you prefer me to take a message?”

  Recovering quickly, Greg shook his head. “No, I’ll take it,” he said, accepting the house phone. When he’d seen her at Thanksgiving, she’d seemed more distant than usual—something only he would have been able to decipher. Rita was not exactly a warm and fuzzy, milk and cookies kind of mom, after all. She was formal, petite, and always immaculately groomed. Careful with her words, too. Even around her only child. But last Thursday she’d been especially stiff, as if there was something weighing on her mind, and despite it just being the two of them for the meal, she’d revealed nothing more than a tight smile. Perhaps the red-eye back to Los Angeles had settled her spirit, or perhaps she was finally ready to tell him what was bothering her. He braced himself.

  “Hello, Mother.” He dropped into an armchair that he quickly realized lent an unfortunate view of that ridiculous oversized tree. The thing belonged in a forest, not in a house, he thought. The sooner it was out of here, the better.

  “I was surprised to hear you left for Misty Point over the weekend.” Rita Frost’s voice sounded distant and muffled. Speaker phone, of course. He could picture his mother sitting in her corner office of the West Coast office of Frost Greeting Cards, replying to an email or skimming a contract while she pretended to give him her full attention. It was only five on the West Coast, but that never stopped his mother from being at her desk, ready to start the day. “I’ve been trying your cell phone, but it kept going to voice mail. I tried you at the office, and your assistant said you were working from home today. I assumed she meant your apartment. But no, she told me you were here.”

  Greg had intentionally silenced the ringer of his cell phone. He just needed a day of peace. A day to clear his head. One day to recover from the stress of the past few weeks. So much for that. “The city was getting too noisy for me. I figured I’d try the old homestead for a while.”

  He knew she had no room for argument. The East Coast office of Frost Greetings Cards, which Greg oversaw, was located halfway between Boston and Misty Point—not exactly a glamorous central city location, but it was adjacent to their warehouse and allowed for ample space for company growth; it had nearly doubled in the past ten years, thanks to Rita’s perseverance.

  He typically reverse-commuted each day from his Beacon Hill condo, but there was no reason why he couldn’t live here in the family’s country house permanently, if he wished to.

  He sipped his coffee. It was a tempting thought.

  “I see.” His mother sounded distracted. Normally, she wasn’t shy to voice her opinion, even over something as trivial as a few days in Misty Point. Her sharp mind would home in and start to spur questions, and she’d want to know why…why he was in Misty Point, not Boston. But today, she seemed completely satisfied with the bare facts.

  Greg frowned. Something must really be wrong.

  There was a shuffling on the other end of the line before his mother’s suddenly crystal-clear voice whispered directly into the receiver, “We’ve got a big problem, Gregory.”

  Greg forced himself up to a straighter position. Other than illness, there was only one thing that could be important enough for his mother to admit there was a problem, and considering it was already the first day of December, it had to be the national campaign and the bid for next year’s Christmas spotlight at Burke’s department stores.

  “I came into the office this morning to find a holiday greeting from Darling Cards,” Rita continued.
>
  Greg set down his mug on a coaster that was conveniently placed on an end table, well trained not to leave any rings on the wooden surfaces. “And?”

  “And it’s not your typical corporate greeting. I’m looking at a photo of the entire Darling family, from the grandparents down to the wailing infant in the CEO’s arms! And you know what this means, Gregory, right? If I received one, you can bet the CEO of Burke’s did, too. And a company like Burke’s, which identifies itself with a family image, is going to lap this up.” She chuckled mirthlessly, her laughter shrill with hysteria. “They’re even wearing matching clothes! All twenty-nine of them in designer tartan! That clown Edgar Darling even has a jaunty little cap perched right on top of his inflated head!”

  It was no secret that Rita Frost and Edgar Darling were lifelong rivals. For as long as Greg could remember, his mother was aware of all the comings and goings of poor old Edgar, from which account he’d landed to which marketing genius he’d snagged. They recruited staff off each other, had probing lunches with mutual acquaintances, each gleaning for a piece of information that would give their company an edge. At industry events, they hugged and laughed and toasted with drinks like old friends, and then watched each other with narrowed eyes over the rims of their Champagne flutes for the entire cocktail hour. Rita never slept after seeing Edgar. The agitation was palpable. Edgar Darling was the only man Greg had ever known who could shake up the unflappable Rita Frost.

  Greg rubbed his forehead. “So? Frost Greeting Cards has been around for generations, too. I highly doubt Burke’s would give Darling Cards the account based solely on the size of their family.”

  “It’s not about size, Gregory; it’s about image, and right now Darling Cards is consistent with the image Burke’s department stores portrays for itself. So.” She took the opportunity for a dramatic pause. “The question now is, how do we trump this?”

  Greg stifled a groan. It had been his maternal grandfather who started Frost Greeting Cards, and when his mother had taken over as CEO nearly thirty years ago, she had single-handedly turned the company around, expanding its product line to include ornaments, crafts, toys, and gift-wrapping paper. She had brought the company to an international level and pushed everyone to the brink to ensure its success.