“You’re a girl after my own heart,” I said, clinking glasses with her and Cruz. “Thank you for today, both of you, I don’t want you to ever leave! Can’t we pretend there’s no New York, and this is home?”
They exchanged a glance with each other. It was loaded with meaning, but of what, I didn’t know. “Let’s cheers to that,” Amory said.
“Cruz, you were in your element! I thought chefs were usually grumpy under pressure, more sovereign-like, barking orders or some such.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “I used to work under a chef like that and it was almost impossible not to laugh when he had one of his rages. I couldn’t take him seriously when he was heart-attack red and frothing at the mouth. Instead of fixing the problem he’d have a conniption that lasted twenty minutes – which of course delayed us even more… It was insane.”
“How depressing,” Amory joked. “I was hoping to see you throw some pots and pans around – you know, christen the kitchen a bit?”
“There’s still time,” he said, his eyes twinkling. Was it a possibility he’d stay and take up the chef position at Cedarwood? It would be too good to be true, having my best friend and her partner here for good. But maybe out of the city they could sort through their differences… I sent up a fervent wish to the universe to make it so.
“And our beautiful brides! Weren’t they amazing?” Amory said.
I took a big sip of champagne, bubbles bursting on my nose like little kisses. “They were, even what-was-her-name with the black hair?”
Amory rolled her eyes. “There’s always one like that. Isadora. Doubt we’ll hear back from her, though.”
In a way, I was glad. You could only deal with so many dramas before it became old very quickly. I sensed Isadora would be a troublemaker just for the sake of it. Still, smile, nod, and solve the problem – we’d do it if we had to. “The vendors were really happy too. Might be the start of something big for them.”
I knew how hard it was to make a living in Evergreen and I couldn’t deny the thrill I felt knowing that Cedarwood Lodge was providing more customers for local small businesses too.
My face hurt from smiling but my heart was full.
***
The next morning we woke late, and the rest of the day spread out before us blissfully void of any work. We’d decided to relax and celebrate the success of the bridal expo and all the hours we’d put into it.
Cruz was humming away in the kitchen, searching the fridges, his zest for cooking back with a vengeance. He rejected my offers to help unload the dishwasher. “You girls have been run off your feet in the lead-up to the expo. Why don’t you take a break? Go up to the library, and I’ll bring tea?”
The thought of being still, lying supine, did sound appealing. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“Come on then, Amory,” I said, dragging at her arm, desperate to lie down and chat lazily.
Slowly, like old women, we climbed the stairs. “You know, it hurts to wear heels these days. I suffer afterwards.”
She gave me a bemused smile. “We sure did some miles in them. And going up and down these goddamn stairs every five minutes… We’re going to have some serious calf muscles.”
I thought of my wardrobe, packed with couture clothing, and various heels from kitten to stiletto… and all I wanted to wear these days were my yoga pants and ballet flats. To hell with keeping up with fashion. I didn’t have to do that any more, and I didn’t much care either.
We settled in the library, the scent of old tomes mixing with the perfume of rose posies scattered around the room. Our brides had loved the library – those with bookworm in their blood, anyhow. From my vantage point on an old, crinkled-leather Chesterfield I could see the snow-covered mountains and the frozen lake at their base.
Flashing fairy lights brightened the room, and I turned to Amory, who had her hands clasped over her belly, her lids heavy like she’d taken a sleep draught.
“It was great of Cruz to stay and help out. Without him I don’t know what we’d have done.” Neither Amory nor I could cook worth a damn, and Aunt Bessie had her donut table to attend to and brides to entertain. All of us had had jobs to do and, without Cruz’s culinary expertise, we’d have been in real trouble.
Sleepily she said, “He told me last night that he quit his job. That’s why there was a delay in him arriving at Cedarwood. He had to give them notice.”
“He quit his job? Why?” As far as I knew he thrived on the fast pace of high finance.
“He seems to think it was our downfall, the reason we haven’t taken the next step… Because we’re always too caught up at work. He’s sort of got a point.”
I nodded. “Big-city burnout.” It reminded me of Kai, and his feeling of being on a never-ending Ferris wheel. Was it worth it? I’d loved my job at the agency, and hated that my exit hadn’t been my choice, but after buying Cedarwood and making a life back in Evergreen I was happier every day that the decision had been made for me. New York and that frenetic pace were a million miles from here and I didn’t miss it any more. Instead, I felt a type of apathy about it. We’d all been so caught up in racing to be the best that we’d lost our way – or at least that’s how I felt now.
“What will he do?”
“He’s got savings, so he’ll live off that for the moment, until he decides – but I suppose he can be a chef, or at least use those skills somewhere, and you can tell by his pizzazz in the kitchen under pressure yesterday how much he loves doing it. He had fire in his belly again. It was lovely to witness that.”
I sat bolt upright. “But what about for Cedarwood?”
She frowned. “You’d hire him? I thought that was just a ruse to get people to sign up – say ‘yes’ and all that?”
“Oh my God, no! I was totally serious. He is more than qualified. I mean, you saw him yesterday, he didn’t even break a sweat, just got the job done as if he’d planned the menu himself.”
“Don’t you think that’s too neat? We have problems, he shows up, boom he’s hired. Do you think it’ll make me change my mind?”
I leaned back into the chair and pulled a rug over me. “Do you want him to stay?”
She waited a beat. “Yes.”
“Then why not?”
She sighed. “I worry I’m losing my identity, you know, and I get how uppity that sounds, but I thought I knew who I was. Thirty-something, career-driven, ambitious event planner to the stars. I had rules, so that vision stayed firmly in place. And now look at me…”
I smiled, and gave her arm a pat. “I know exactly what you mean, Amory. When I crept out of the city totally humiliated, I thought my dreams were done for. My confidence was wrecked. But it’s been the best thing that’s ever happened to me. And you’re lucky you chose to leave. No one forced you. What do you want to be, Amory? That same girl, keeping the world at arm’s length, or pulling those she loves closer?”
“Oh, you and your Hallmark clichés.” She grinned. “I want to stay here, and never leave, Clio. Truly. I don’t know if it’s Cedarwood’s spell, or if I’ve been living on autopilot in New York, but I love it here. I’ve never felt so at home. But how do I do that? Give up my job, my apartment…”
“Why couldn’t you stay here, Amory? Sublet your apartment if you’re not one hundred percent sure. And as for Cruz… Why not take it one day at a time? He’d be doing us a huge favor if he did stay on.”
“It would be fun to help you here long-term. The possibilities are endless.”
“Then stay. I need your help, and I’m prepared to beg for it.”
She laughed. “And Cruz?”
“Chef Cruz, it’s got a nice ring to it.” Her eyes twinkled and I knew she was thinking about it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
The next day I worked for a few hours, updating social media, emailing our brides to thank them for attending the expo, and caught up on the accounts. I thought about how to get some more bodies in beds, so I creat
ed some discounted package deals and uploaded them to various travel websites.
In the quiet of the office, I thought of Mom, and the sadness that consumed me at times that I could never share any of this with her. Why couldn’t she be who I needed her to be and vice versa? When I’d first come home, I’d imagined us sitting side by side in the office, dreaming up marketing campaigns, new events for our guests, and window-shopping for sumptuous furniture we’d buy when our funds were in surplus. Instead, the lodge was like a cuss word, and we avoided any talk of it.
It was high time that changed. I grabbed my scarf from the coat hook, and wound it on, pulling on my coat, and donning a red knitted beanie. It took an age for the car to warm up in the freezing temperatures, but when it did, I took the drive very slowly indeed, slowing more as I drove past houses decorated to the hilt, inflatable reindeers blowing sideways in the bracing winds, and colored lights shining from windows. Wreaths decorated front doors, like a welcome home.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled into Mom’s driveway, and shut off the engine. I rapped on the front door and got no answer. I called her cell, and she answered after the first ring. “Hello, Clio.”
“Mom, I’m at your house, shivering in the porch. Where are you?”
“I’m at Puft with Bessie. She needed a hand with some orders. Grab the spare key, it’s out back under the mat, and I’ll be home in about half an hour, OK?”
“Thanks, Mom. See you soon.” I felt a real pang of surprise, and happiness. Normally Mom would have said she was out and that was that. To have her come home on my account was definitely a step in the right direction.
After finding the key, I let myself in. The cottage was as pristine as ever, everything in its place and a place for everything, as my Aunt Bessie used to say, good-naturedly teasing Mom’s tendency to clean everything within an inch of its life.
In the kitchen, I detected the faint smell of coffee. I rifled through the pantry to find some coffee beans. The one thing Mom always had in bulk was coffee. She might run out of food without much concern, but her coffee stash was always healthy. Finding the coffee, I pressed buttons on the machine, but it came up with an error code. I frowned, pressing more buttons, wondering what the little symbols meant. Being organized to a fault, I knew Mom kept all her kitchen-gadget instruction manuals in a file in the bottom drawer.
Sure enough, there was the file, just like I expected. But underneath it was a leatherbound book. It was thick, embossed, and looked out of place in the drawer. Mom didn’t just leave things lying around. Kitchen things went in the kitchen and personal effects went in the office.
Interest piqued, I flicked it open. It was a photo album. The hair on my arms stood on end – part fear she’d catch me looking through her private things, and part curiosity that I might find something I shouldn’t. The tiny book felt heavy in my hands, and my heart thudded in my chest. It was probably nothing, probably family photographs, and she’d mistakenly left them in this drawer.
Surely she wouldn’t mind if I had a quick peek at my own family photographs? Didn’t I have that right, the most basic of things?
I darted a glance over my shoulder, ears pricked for the sound of her car. I flicked the pages of black and white photos. The first picture was an old car with wide fenders, probably a classic by now. The second was a woman holding a baby. The young woman’s hair was curled gently around her ears. The dimples in her cheeks, identical to ones in mine. Mom. She wore a sixties-style dress.
What I couldn’t miss was the big, beaming smile on her face as she gazed with wonderment at the baby in her arms. Whose child was it? I’d seen a picture of myself in Mom’s arms as a baby, and I knew this wasn’t me. This picture had been taken a long time before I was born. Mom was shiny-skinned and smooth-featured like a teenager. Youthful.
I flicked to the next picture and my breath caught. It was Cedarwood. Beautiful Cedarwood like something out of an F. Scott Fitzgerald novel. The fountain out front was surging water into the air, the cherubs on its base unable to catch each other for eternity. The lodge in the background, the tree-crested mountains behind. It was unmistakably the lodge, but in black and white it looked so different, so young somehow… as though now the years of being abandoned had aged the old place.
The next photograph was Mom again, this time holding the hand of a toddler, her little bonneted head staring up at Mom. Who…? Just then I heard the crunch of gravel as Mom pulled into the driveway. Shoot! With my pulse thrumming, I closed the album and shoved it back in the drawer and with it the file of instruction manuals.
Trying to calm the erratic rhumba of my heart, I pasted on a smile and smoothed down my hair before she came in, carrying a box of donuts.
“Clio, hi.”
I was sure my skin was flushed with the secret, and averted my gaze so she couldn’t read it in my eyes. I fought the urge to flee, my heartbeat still leaping in my chest, pumping so loud I was sure she could hear it.
“Hi, Mom.”
To keep my hands from shaking, I hunted in the pantry for the biscuit tin, thoughts still spinning wildly, making assumptions about Mom and the mysterious child who stared up at her like she was her world. Did I have a sibling? Was she a teen mom? So many questions buzzed around my head, and I tried to think rationally about what to say to her that wouldn’t make her clam up, and wouldn’t make it obvious I’d been snooping, even though it had been mostly innocent.
For the life of me I couldn’t think of anything to say. How did you bring up something like that? Hey, Mom, did you have a child you forgot to tell me about? Was that child now an adult living in Evergreen? Someone I’d walked past a hundred times in the street and didn’t know?
When it came time to question her, words failed me. I froze. And for the first time I really understood people telling me to leave it be. Because once the words were said, you couldn’t tuck them away again. I sat there for too long, silent. Wishing I had a crystal ball to guide me. Ask? Or not? Now I finally had some kind of evidence, although it was nebulous, courage failed me. I left with a lame excuse, giving her a loose hug, and rushed through the snow to my car. I just couldn’t do it.
I drove sedately through the double gates of the lodge, seeing the place as it had once been, in the black and white pictures, and comparing it to now, in full color. And then, with the ghost of my mom as a teenager standing at the front, a small child searching her face, and now, bereft of anyone, rain soaking the spot.
Inside, I went to my office, and sat heavily, trying to push the worry away, and focus on work. Kai had emailed to say he would be here soon and hopefully our chapel-approval issues would be sorted before our very first wedding. I checked over the paperwork for the chapel once more, readying it to present to Ned. Invoices from each tradesperson who’d done the necessary safety improvements were all there, sorted into alphabetical order.
The phone rang, starling me. “Cedarwood Lodge, Clio speaking.”
“How’d the bridal expo go?” Kai’s Australian drawl provoked a smile.
Kai… just the person I needed to hear from. Even talking over the phone with him calmed me. “Well, despite Georges being a no-show the morning of, we got through it well, and secured a definite and one maybe. I just need that approval before I can put my wedding planner cap back on.”
“Georges didn’t show?” I explained to Kai what happened. “Lucky you had a stand-in then.”
“Very. Thank you for the magic you worked with Ned! I was iffy showing the brides the chapel without permission so that one-day pass was a godsend.”
“No worries. Sorry I didn’t get there – things have been hectic.”
“Did you manage to see about getting any time off?” It was a week until Christmas, and if he didn’t come soon we’d have to wait until the New Year, because Ned’s office was closed from Christmas Eve onwards.
“My boss wouldn’t budge, no surprises there, but I managed to move some projects up, and got some extra help in, so I can get there in t
wo days’ time and stay for the week, because things shut down at Christmas. I know this leaves us tight for time with Ned, but I’m hoping I can convince him to visit Cedarwood while I’m there and explain the improvements and safety measures.”
“Oh, Kai, that would be amazing. I hope you’ll stay with us.”
“If you’re sure?”
“It’s not like we don’t have the room.” I laughed.
“True. Get your walking shoes on, Clio. Rain, hail, or shine we’re climbing that mountain.”
I wrinkled my nose, and gazed out the window to the slushy, ice-covered ground. “It’s snowing, Kai. And not just a little bit. Can’t I convince you to take a leaf out of my book?”
“Yeah, sure, what will we do?”
“First we’ll drink a bottle of wine, then we’ll eat our body weight in candy canes, and then…”
He laughed, “And then we’ll ice skate on the lake. Deal.”
“Maybe we’d better do that before the wine then.”
“See you soon.”
We said our goodbyes and I couldn’t ignore the little flutter in my belly that he’d be back soon. Back at Cedarwood…
Chapter Twenty-Four
The next day Cruz wandered into the kitchen, a sheepish expression on his face. “I’ve been ordered to take breakfast upstairs…”
I let out a laugh. “Yeah? Those princess instincts are really kicking in.”
“They’ve never really been that well-hidden to be honest,” he said, and smiled. “Do you mind?” He pointed to the fridge.
“Go for it. I probably should go and do a big grocery shop before Christmas. I was going to host a little party, but now Georges has gone…” I let the words hang in the air.
“I can help, no problems,” he said. “I forgot how much I love it. The sizzling of pans, getting the timing just right. While it seems more manic than number-crunching, it’s actually a helluva lot more enjoyable.”
Winter at Cedarwood Lodge Page 22
