by Anita Hughes
“Are we thinking about a future?” Emma asked. She was standing so close to Fletcher, and suddenly all he wanted was to kiss her.
“I can’t seem to think about anything else.” He touched her cheek tentatively. “It’s been a long time, and we’ve both lived different lives. Do you think we can give it a chance?”
Emma was quiet, and he was afraid he’d said too much. He should have taken it slowly and pretended it was a casual evening between friends. But then she reached up and kissed him. Her lips tasted of chocolate, and he put his arms around her.
“I’d like some kind of future together,” Emma whispered when they parted.
“You would?” Fletcher said, and realized his heart was pounding.
“Very much,” Emma agreed, and smiled. “But right now I’d do anything to go somewhere warm and have dinner. Do you think we can find a place to eat?”
“I made reservations at a Michelin-starred restaurant, but I could only get a table an hour from now,” Fletcher said, hesitating.
“Would you mind if we ditched it and ate here instead?” Emma pointed to the only storefront that didn’t have a gold canopy or brass awnings.
“The Stowe Waffle and Pancake House?” Fletcher laughed, peeking through the window at the waitress carrying an old-fashioned coffee pot.
“When I get back to New York, I probably won’t eat maple syrup again,” Emma grinned. “But right now a pancake sounds perfect.”
* * *
Fletcher ordered a “lumberjack crêpe” with local ham and cheddar, while Emma had a hazelnut pancake with organic bananas. After dinner they strolled through Stowe and watched the ski patrol ski down the mountain. Children waved sparklers and ate complimentary sugar cookies.
“Would you like to go up in the cable car?” Fletcher asked. “The view at night is supposed to be spectacular.”
“I’ve never been in a cable car before.” Emma eyed the red box suspended from an iron rod.
“I’ve never been either,” Fletcher admitted.
“I thought cable cars were all the rage in European ski resorts,” Emma said.
“We always had Lola with us, and she was too small.” Fletcher shrugged.
“Why not?” Emma decided. “It’s about time I tried something adventurous.”
Fletcher took her hand and they walked toward the cable car entrance. Above them the mountain loomed like a giant in one of Lola’s books of fairy tales.
“I’ll buy the tickets. I would love to do something new together.” Fletcher felt a stab of anticipation. Emma looked so lovely with her brown eyes and her coat belted around her waist.
Emma’s face broke into a smile and she nodded. “So would I.”
The cable car lurched into the air, and Emma leaned against the hard wooden seat.
“It’s even more beautiful than I imagined,” she breathed. The sky was so close she could count the stars, and the village of Stowe was lit up with fairy lights. She could see the giant Christmas tree and the snow-covered steeples.
“I agree, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.” Fletcher took her hand.
“You’re not even looking at the scenery,” Emma said, glancing over at him.
“You’re right,” he said, pulling her close. “Because I can’t stop looking at the beauty beside me.”
Fletcher kissed her, and his mouth was warm and sweet. She kissed him back, and a shiver of delight ran down her spine.
The cable car kept moving, and finally she pulled away.
“You have to look at the scenery,” she said, laughing. “We can kiss anywhere, but how many times will we ride a cable car in Stowe?”
* * *
Fletcher draped his scarf over a chair in his room and sank onto the bed. Lola was already asleep, and the lights in the upstairs hallway were dimmed.
The evening with Emma had been magical: eating crêpes at the Stowe Waffle and Pancake House, and taking the cable car to the top of the mountain. The valley had spread out below them, and the villages were like charms on a charm bracelet. And he wished the kiss could have gone on forever!
Then they’d shared a nightcap in the library of The Smuggler’s Inn, and Fletcher longed to ask Emma to his room. But it was too soon, and he didn’t want to do anything to disturb the tentative romance growing between them.
Fletcher walked to the closet and hung up his coat. Tomorrow was the talent show. He had to spend the morning putting finishing touches on the set. Lola was so excited about performing, she said it felt like Christmas all over again.
Outside a light snow was falling, and it looked so peaceful. He was in Vermont with Lola and Emma and it was almost New Year’s Eve. Lola was right: it felt exactly like Christmas, and he couldn’t wait until tomorrow.
Nineteen
New Year’s Eve
Snowberry, Vermont
EMMA RAN A BRUSH THROUGH her hair and pulled on a sweater. The weather report said it was going to snow all day, and she didn’t want to catch a cold. Tonight was the talent show and she had to see if Betty needed help with the donations, and help Lola rehearse her song.
Last night with Fletcher had been the best evening she could remember. At first she had been nervous that they wouldn’t know what to say and the whole night would be awkward. But Fletcher had surprised her by taking her to Stowe, and it had felt so glamorous to browse in the designer stores and mingle with the tourists dressed in fur hats and après-ski boots. Then when Emma suggested eating at the pancake and waffle house, Fletcher had canceled their reservation at a Michelin-starred restaurant and agreed to eat crêpes and drink coffee that had probably been sitting in the coffee pot since lunchtime.
Riding the cable car had been a wonderful idea. She was worried it might be scary swinging from the side of a mountain in a box that resembled a toy car. But Fletcher kept her hand in his and the mountain was lit with twinkling lights, and it was one of the most beautiful views she had ever seen. And their kiss was like something out of a romantic movie. It had taken all her willpower not to invite Fletcher into her room, but she didn’t want to rush things.
She flipped open her laptop and pressed the FaceTime icon. The image blurred and Bronwyn appeared on the screen. Bronwyn was wearing an expensive-looking floral robe and she was sitting on a balcony with a palm tree and the ocean behind her.
“I tried FaceTiming you last night, but you didn’t answer.” Bronwyn closed her magazine. “I’m reading the real estate section of Palm Beach Life. I’m thinking of moving to Palm Beach. You can buy a four-bedroom oceanfront condo for the price of a two-bedroom apartment on the Upper West Side. The Wind & Sand has a private beach club and on-site babysitters.”
“You can’t move to Palm Beach,” Emma said patiently. “You have a successful dermatology practice, and Carlton is a stockbroker at a major firm in Manhattan.”
“I could open a practice here. These women lather themselves with tanning oil when they’re young, and they’re surprised when their skin starts looking like a withered orange. And Carlton can commute. I met a guy who hops on his private jet every Monday and flies back to Palm Beach for the weekend. His wife sees more of him than she did when they lived in Westchester, and their children know how to sail.”
“Sarah is only five, and she already takes dance and martial arts,” Emma pointed out. “She doesn’t need to learn how to sail.”
“Look behind me.” Bronwyn waved her hand. “That’s the Atlantic Ocean, and it’s warm enough to go swimming. And see that yellow thing?” She pointed at the sky. “That’s the sun; we won’t see it in New York until March. And just when we decide to go to work without a jacket, there will be a freak snowstorm. Even God doesn’t think people should live in New York.”
“You can’t move to Palm Beach because you’re my best friend and I’d miss you,” Emma interjected. “I haven’t spoken to you in days. I have so much to tell you.”
“I miss you too. I’ve hardly spoken to an adult since we arrived,” Bronwyn admitted
. “Carlton spends most of the day riding around in a golf cart, and none of the women talk to each other. They lie at the pool with cucumbers covering their eyelids, like plastic figures in a modern art installation.”
“The day before yesterday Fletcher and Lola and I took a tour of SnowBeary Academy,” Emma began. “It was so much fun—you and Carlton should bring the girls. There’s a bear hospital and a gift shop that sells bear food.”
“I told you not to go to the teddy bear factory,” Bronwyn groaned. “Now when Fletcher thinks about you, he’s going to picture a roomful of children sobbing because their teddy bear lost an ear. I know. When Trixie chewed up Pinkie, Liv cried harder than I did at my grandfather’s funeral.”
“Then he asked me to dinner that night and we went to Le Soufflé,” Emma said, ignoring her. “Afterward we walked over a covered bridge in Dorset.”
“Covered bridges are romantic.” Bronwyn perked up. “Did you kiss?”
“Fletcher was about to kiss me, but then there were fireworks, and I pulled away—”
“Almost isn’t good enough,” Bronwyn interrupted. “Tonight is New Year’s Eve, and tomorrow you go back to New York. Your apartment is going to look pretty gloomy when you see Scott’s Instagram photos of Maui. I have to remember to unfollow him; he keeps posting photos of luaus with tropical fruits and pigs sizzling on a stick. Even I’m jealous, and I’m sitting under a coconut tree.”
“You didn’t let me finish,” Emma replied. “Yesterday morning I went to the outlet stores in Manchester and ran into Fletcher. I helped him pick out a tuxedo, and he asked me to dinner.”
“Synchronicity at work.” Bronwyn nodded. “Go on, I’m dying with anticipation.”
“It was the most wonderful evening!” Emma said, flushing. “We went to Stowe and browsed in the boutiques and rode the cable car to the top of the mountain. He kissed me and it was the best kiss I can remember. Then we came back to The Smuggler’s Inn and had a nightcap in the library.”
“Did you go up to his room and have incredible sex?” Bronwyn asked eagerly. “I can’t remember what it’s like to sleep with someone new. You’ve slept with Fletcher before, but you both must have learned stuff in the last eleven years.”
“I didn’t sleep with him!” Emma exclaimed. “Lola was right next door. And anyway, there isn’t any hurry. We both want to take it slowly.”
“I agree, rushing into sex is like finding out if the baby is a boy or a girl before it’s born.” Bronwyn nodded. “It’s better to keep the mystery going and have something to look forward to.”
“I have to thank you,” Emma returned. “If you hadn’t convinced me to come to Vermont, Fletcher and I would never have reunited.”
“I had little to do with it,” Bronwyn insisted. “From the moment you found that watch, everything was put into motion. You were bound to end up with Fletcher; that’s what synchronicity is all about.”
“Fletcher’s watch!” Emma remembered. “I have to tell him I found it at the jewelry store in the East Village. He thinks that my being at The Smuggler’s Inn is a coincidence.”
“You don’t have to tell him,” Bronwyn said warily.
“Of course I do,” Emma replied. “If we’re going to have a relationship, there can’t be any secrets between us. And why shouldn’t I tell him? You’re the one who keeps saying it’s synchronicity, and it all worked exactly as planned.”
“Some people might not see it that way,” Bronwyn faltered. “He might think you were stalking him.”
“Stalking him?”
“You know, finding out where he was on Facebook and then booking a room at the same inn.”
“But that’s exactly what you did,” Emma reminded her.
“And look how well it turned out!” Bronwyn said breezily. “It’s like when I get a skin peel. Carlton doesn’t need to see me with green goop all over my face. It’s better if he only witnesses the results: his wife with baby-faced cheeks like Selena Gomez or Ariana Grande.”
“Keeping secrets doesn’t sound like a good idea,” Emma said uncomfortably.
“I’m a married woman, I know how men work,” Bronwyn said wisely. “I have to get ready for New Year’s Eve. The Breakers puts on a New Year’s Eve ball that would make Marie Antoinette feel at home. Carlton gave me the most beautiful gold necklace as a New Year’s Eve present with a card saying he won the lottery when he married me.” She paused. “Maybe I won’t move to Palm Beach after all. I don’t want Carlton to commute.”
Emma closed her computer and picked up Fletcher’s watch. Bronwyn was right: Fletcher might think it was odd that she’d followed him to Vermont. But could she keep it a secret? And what about Lola? Lola was so inquisitive; if she asked how Emma ended up at The Smuggler’s Inn, Emma would have to tell her the truth.
The snow was coming down harder outside, and she grabbed a coat. Sometimes she had to listen to her best friend, and sometimes she had to listen to herself.
* * *
Betty was in the kitchen when Emma went downstairs. A pot of oatmeal was simmering on the stove, and there was a platter of crisp bacon. Betty had sliced a loaf of bread, and the room smelled of toast and butter.
“Good morning.” Betty looked up. She was wearing high-waisted slacks and a red sweater. “I love snowy mornings; they make me want to stay inside with a cup of tea and a good book.”
“It’s coming down pretty hard,” Emma said, nodding. “The weather report says it’s going to snow all day.”
“That’s why I made all this food,” Betty said, and waved at the platters of sausages and stacks of pancakes. “Guests don’t like to venture into the village in this weather. I hope it eases up for the talent show.”
“Don’t worry, everyone will come,” Emma assured her. “Flyers are up all over town.”
“I know, and I’m so grateful.” Betty nodded. “Lola is more excited about the talent show than she was about last night’s live reindeer.”
“How was your evening?” Emma asked. “Lola was asleep when I got home.”
“We had so much fun. We sang Christmas carols and Stephen took us on a skimobile.” Betty stirred the oatmeal. “He asked me to go on a cruise with him in February. I haven’t been on a cruise in years. I love Vermont in the winter, but it will be nice to remember that the whole world isn’t bright white.”
“That sounds romantic,” Emma said teasingly.
“John has only been gone for eight months, and this thing with Stephen is quite sudden,” Betty faltered. “But John and I knew Stephen and his wife for years. And you can’t stop having feelings for someone. What if it doesn’t happen again?”
“I suppose you’re right.” Emma thought of her and Fletcher. “But what if it’s not the right time?”
“Falling in love is like being pregnant. It’s often inconvenient, but it’s the best thing in the world.” Betty looked at Emma. “Lola told me that you and Fletcher had dinner alone.”
“We went to Stowe and it was wonderful.” Emma’s cheeks turned red. “It’s just…”
“You and Fletcher enjoy each other’s company. And you’re both single,” Betty said, stopping her. “I don’t see the problem.”
“Fletcher and I dated in college, and I’ve never felt like this about anyone else,” Emma admitted. “But what if it doesn’t work out and we both get hurt? And Lola has been through so much—maybe she’s not ready to share Fletcher again.”
“We never know what life will bring us. I thought John and I would be sitting on that porch in matching rocking chairs when we were eighty. But I wouldn’t give up the time we had just because I’m alone now,” Betty counseled. “And Lola is like any other child. She just wants to be loved.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Emma said, nodding. “I have to go. I’m meeting Fletcher at the playhouse.”
“You’re going out in this?” Betty waved at the thick flakes sticking to the window.
“I have to tell him something important.” Emma walked towa
rd the mudroom.
“You must be falling in love.” Betty smiled and turned off the oatmeal. “I’m not going farther than the fireplace in the living room.”
* * *
Emma hurried into the playhouse lobby and stamped the snow from her boots. Even a sweater and her thickest coat hadn’t kept her warm. She rubbed the watchcase in her pocket and opened the door to the theater.
Fletcher was kneeling on the stage, hammering a star to the podium. He was wearing a flannel shirt and corduroys, and Emma’s heart turned over. Just seeing him and remembering last night’s kiss ignited the feelings inside her. She moved closer and he looked up in surprise.
“Emma!” He jumped up. “What are you doing here? It’s really coming down out there. I thought you and Lola would be at the inn all day, playing board games and rehearsing for the show.”
“Lola is asleep. I’m going to practice with her this afternoon.” Emma approached the stage. “I wanted to see you. It all looks wonderful.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” Fletcher said, beaming. A gold banner was strung across the stage, and the floor was littered with confetti. Silver stars hung from the ceiling, and a red carpet was spread across the wood planks.
“Betty is thrilled, and Lola is so excited,” Emma said warmly. “Thank you for going to all this trouble.”
“I’m the lucky one.” Fletcher approached her. “If Lola hadn’t had the idea for the talent show, you and I may never have gotten together. I had the best time last night. I can’t wait to show each other New York.”
Fletcher put his arms around her and drew her close. Emma kissed him, and suddenly she wondered if she should leave the watch in her pocket after all.
“You said you wanted to see me,” Fletcher said when they parted. “Was it something important?”
Emma took a deep breath and reached into her pocket. “I wanted to show you this.”
Fletcher snapped open the case and took out the watch. He turned it over and looked at Emma.
