A Proposal to Remember

by Sarah Morgan

  “We have a miracle. Catherine, Dan’s mother, is a wedding planner. She’s amazing. This only happened an hour ago and she’s already made some calls and arranged the flowers and the cake. Usually she handles celebrities, so she has tons of contacts.”

  “Oh, well—super.” Maggie felt as if she’d fallen in a river and was being swept along, helpless and flailing. “She doesn’t mind helping you?”

  “She’s excited. And she has flawless taste. Everything will be perfect.”

  Maggie thought of her own imperfect life and felt a rush of something she recognized as jealousy. How could she be jealous of someone she’d never met?

  Maybe she was having a midlife crisis, but surely if that was the case then it should have happened years ago when Rosie had first left home? Why now? She was having delayed empty nest syndrome.

  She blinked to clear her misty vision and wondered why she’d ever thought it would be easy to be a parent.

  Focusing on the practical, she made a mental list of all the things she’d have to do to cancel Christmas. The cake would keep, as would the cranberry sauce, waiting in the freezer. She’d ordered a turkey from a local farmer, but maybe she could still cancel that.

  The one thing not so easily canceled were her expectations.

  The White family always gathered together at Christmas. They had their traditions, which probably would have seemed crazy to some, but Maggie cherished them. Decorating the tree, singing carols, doing a massive jigsaw, playing silly games. Being together. It didn’t happen often now that her daughters were grown, and she’d been looking forward to it.

  “Have you told your sister yet?”

  “She is my next call. Not that she’s likely to answer her phone. She’s always working. I want her to be my maid of honor.”

  What would Katie’s reaction be? “Your sister doesn’t consider herself a romantic.”

  Maggie sometimes wondered if working in the emergency department for so long had distorted her elder daughter’s view of humanity.

  “I know,” Rosie said, “but this isn’t any old wedding. It’s my wedding, and I know she’ll do it for me.”

  “You’re right, she will.” Katie had always been a protective and loving older sister.

  She glanced at the photograph she kept on the table next to her bed. The two girls standing side by side, arms wrapped around each other, their cheeks pressed together as they faced the camera, smiles merging. It was one of her favorite photos.

  “I know you hate flying, Mum, but you will come, won’t you? I badly want you all to be there.”

  Flying. Rosie was right that she hated it.

  In company when conversation turned to travel, she pretended she was protecting the planet by avoiding flying, but in reality she was protecting herself. The idea of being propelled through the air in a tin can horrified her. It all seemed out of her control. What if the pilot had drunk too much the night before? What if they collided with another plane? Everyone knew that airspace was ridiculously overcrowded. What about drones? Bird strikes?

  When the children were young she and Nick had bundled them into the car and taken them to the beach. Once, they’d taken the ferry across to France and driven as far as Italy (never again, Nick had said, as they’d been bombarded with a chorus of “are we nearly there” all the way from Paris to Pisa).

  And now she was expected to fly to the Rocky Mountains for Christmas.

  And she would. Of course she would.

  “We’ll be there. Nothing would keep us away.” Maggie waved goodbye to her dreams of a family Christmas at the cottage. “But what about a venue? Will you be able to find something at such short notice?”

  “We’re going to have the wedding right here, at his home. Dan’s family own Snowfall Lodge. It’s this amazing boutique hotel just outside Aspen. I can’t wait for you to see it. There are views of the forest and the mountains, and outdoor hot tubs—it’s going to be the perfect place to spend Christmas. The perfect place to get married. I’m so excited!”

  Honeysuckle Cottage was the perfect place to spend Christmas.

  Maggie couldn’t imagine spending it in a place she didn’t know, with people she didn’t know. Not only that, but perfect people she didn’t know. Even the prospect of snow didn’t make her feel better.

  “It sounds as if you have it all covered. All we need to do is think about what to wear.”

  “Mm, I was going to mention that. It’s pretty cold at this time of year. You’re going to need to wear some serious layers.”

  “I was talking about your clothes. Your wedding dress.”

  “Catherine is taking me to her favorite boutique bridal store tomorrow. She’s booked an appointment and they’re closing the store for us and everything.”

  On the few occasions Maggie had thought about Rosie getting married, she’d imagined planning it together, poring over photographs in magazines, trying on dresses.

  Never once had she pictured the whole thing happening without her.

  Now she thought about it, very little of her life had turned out the way she’d planned.

  She stared at the empty expanse of bed next to her.

  “That’s—kind of her.”

  “She is kind. She says I’m the daughter she never had. She’s really spoiling me.”

  But Rosie was her daughter, Maggie thought. She should be the one doing the spoiling.

  No matter how hard she tried, it was impossible not to be hurt and a little resentful.

  Already she felt more like a guest than the mother of the bride.

  No! She wasn’t going to turn into that sort of mother. This was Rosie’s special day, not hers. Her feelings didn’t matter.

  “What can I do to help?”

  “Nothing. Get yourselves here. Catherine can’t wait to meet you. I know you’ll love her.”

  Maggie wondered what Rosie had said about her. My mother works in medical publishing. She loves baking and gardening. To a high-flying celebrity wedding planner, she probably sounded as exciting as yesterday’s laundry.

  “I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

  “Can I speak to Dad? I want to hear his voice.”

  Maggie gripped the phone. She hadn’t anticipated this. “I—um—he’s not here right now.”

  “It’s the middle of the night. How can he not be there?”

  Maggie searched frantically for a plausible explanation. She could hear Nick’s voice, for goodness’ sake Mags, this is absurd. It’s time to tell the truth.

  But the truth was the last thing Rosie needed to hear on the day of her engagement.

  She would not spoil her daughter’s big moment.

  “He’s gone for a walk.”

  “A walk? At three in the morning? Have you guys finally bought a dog or something?”

  “No. Your dad was working on a paper until late and couldn’t sleep. But he should be back any minute.” She was slightly shocked by her own creativity under pressure. She’d always raised the girls to tell the truth, and here she was lying like a pro.

  “Get him to call me the moment he walks through the door.”

  “Won’t you be asleep by then?”

  There was a sound of glasses clinking together and Rosie giggled. “It’s only eight o’clock in the evening here. Will you get him to call me back?”

  Unable to think of an excuse, Maggie promised that Nick to call as soon as he came in, and after a few more excited words she ended the call.

  She sat for a moment, then walked to the window. It was dark outside, but the moon sent a ghostly glow across the village green.

  In the summer it was the venue for cricket, and in the winter the trees were decked with tiny fairy lights paid for by the village council. There had been an outcry at proposals to divert traffic through the center of the village.

  Maggie guessed they didn’t have those problems in Aspen. Nobody was likely to have to fight the demise of the local bus service, or the plan to only open the library two day
s a week.

  Unable to see an alternative, she picked up the phone and dialed Nick’s number.

  It rang and rang, but Maggie persevered. Nick’s ability to sleep through anything was something that she’d both resented and envied when the children were young. It had been Maggie who had dragged herself from the bed every half an hour when Rosie was tiny, and Maggie who had borne the brunt of the asthma attacks even when Nick was home between trips.

  Eventually he picked up the phone with a grunt. “-lo.”

  “Nick?”

  “Maggie?” His voice was rough with sleep and she could imagine him shaking himself awake like a bear waking from hibernation.

  “You need to call Rosie.”

  “Now? In the middle of the night? What’s wrong?” To give him his due, he was instantly concerned. “Is she in the hospital?”

  “No. She has news.” Should she tell him or leave Rosie to tell him herself? In the end she decided to tell him. Nick tended to be blunt in his responses and she didn’t want him spoiling Rosie’s moment. “She and Dan are getting married.” She heard the tinkling of glass and Nick cursing fluently. “Are you all right?”

  “Knocked a glass of water over.”

  Nick was a professor of Egyptology, ridiculously intelligent and endearingly clumsy with everyday items. At least, Maggie had found it endearing in the beginning. It had become less endearing as the years had passed and he’d broken half her favorite china. She used to joke that he was so used to dealing with pottery fragments he didn’t know how to handle an entire piece.

  “She and Dan are getting married in Colorado at Christmas.”

  “This Christmas? The one happening next month?”

  “That’s the one. Dan’s family own a luxury resort. I’ve forgotten what it’s called.”

  “Snowfall Lodge.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Rosie mentioned it when she told me about her plans for Thanksgiving. Goodness. Married. I didn’t see that one coming. Our little Rosie. Always doing the unexpected.” There was a pause and she heard rustling in the background and the click of a light switch. “How do you feel?”

  Sad. Lost. Confused. Anxious.

  She wasn’t sure how many of those feelings could be attributed to Rosie’s news.

  “I feel fine.” That was as much of a lie as letting Rosie think Nick was in bed with her. “It’s Rosie’s life, and she should do what she wants to do.”

  “What about Christmas? I know how important it is to you.”

  “We’ll still be having Christmas, just not at Honeysuckle Cottage. The wedding is planned for Christmas Eve.” She didn’t quite manage to keep the wobble from her voice.

  “Are you going to go?”

  “What sort of a question is that? You seriously think I wouldn’t attend my daughter’s wedding?”

  “I hadn’t given it any thought at all until two minutes ago when you first mentioned it. I know how you love Christmas at the cottage, and how much you hate flying. I know pretty much everything about you.”

  She thought about the file she’d left open on the kitchen table.

  He didn’t know everything.

  “If my daughter is getting married in Aspen, then that’s where I’ll be too.”

  “How? I’ve never managed to get you on a plane. Not even for our honeymoon.”

  “I’ll find a way.” She could do a fear of flying course, but that felt like a ridiculous waste of money. Alcohol would be cheaper. She didn’t often drink, so a couple of gin and tonics should do it. “We can sort out details later. She wants you to call her back so that she can tell you in person.”

  There was a pause. “Where does she think I am? What did you tell her?”

  “That you were out walking because you couldn’t sleep.”

  His sigh echoed down the phone like an accusation. “This has gone on long enough. We should tell them, Mags.” He sounded tired. “They’re not children any more. They deserve to know the truth.”

  “We’ll tell them when the time is right, and that time isn’t when your youngest daughter calls all excited to tell you she’s getting married.”

  “All right, but we tell her before we arrive in Colorado. We’ll call her together next week. We’ve been living apart for months now. It’s time to tell both girls that it’s over.”

  Over.

  Maggie felt her throat thicken and her chest hurt.

  It was because it was the middle of the night. Things always seemed worse at three in the morning.

  “I’d rather tell Katie in person, but she’s elusive at the moment. Have you heard from her lately?”

  “No, but that isn’t unusual. You two have this mother-daughter thing going on. You’re the one she always calls.”

  But Katie hadn’t called. She hadn’t called in a while.

  Did that mean she was busy, or that something was wrong?

  “I’ll try calling her again. She usually does nothing but sleep and eat over Christmas. Traveling to Aspen might be difficult for her.”

  Difficult for all of them.

  A sister who didn’t believe in marriage, and parents who were divorcing.

  What sort of a wedding was this going to be?

  * * *

  Don’t miss

  A WEDDING IN DECEMBER

  by USA TODAY bestselling author Sarah Morgan!

  Copyright © 2019 by Sarah Morgan

  ISBN-13: 978-1-488-05815-8

  A Proposal to Remember

  Copyright © 2019 by Harlequin Books S.A

  The Italian’s Passionate Proposal

  First published in 2003. This edition published in 2019.

  Copyright © 2003 by Sarah Morgan

  The Celebrity Doctor’s Proposal

  First published in 2005. This edition published in 2019.

  Copyright © 2003 by Sarah Morgan.

  All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, ON M5H 4E3 Canada.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and ™ are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Intellectual Property Office and in other countries.

  www.Harlequin.com