by Anita Hughes
“It’s the watch you gave me in college. Where did you get it?” he asked.
“At a secondhand jewelry store in the East Village. I took in a bracelet that Scott gave me for Christmas. I was going to sell it and donate the money to the Salvation Army, but then I saw this in the jewelry case. I couldn’t believe it. What was your watch doing here after ten years?”
“It must have been quite a shock,” Fletcher agreed.
“I showed it to my friend, Bronwyn, and she said it was synchronicity,” Emma explained. “She learned about it in a psych class in college. It means a meaningful coincidence that plays an important role in our lives. She said I was meant to find the watch, and to ignore it was to lose the possibility of happiness.”
“Go on. I don’t quite follow,” Fletcher said, frowning.
“I thought it was silly, but she looked you up on Facebook and discovered you were living in New York,” Emma hurried on. “You were a Broadway director with an ex-wife in Connecticut, and you were spending Christmas week at The Smuggler’s Inn in Snowberry, Vermont. She booked me eight nights as a Christmas present.” Emma paused. “She didn’t know you had a fiancée and a daughter.”
Fletcher paced around the stage and Emma’s heart hammered uncomfortably.
“You drove all the way to Vermont to stay at a country inn because you thought I was here?” He turned to Emma.
“You haven’t met Bronwyn. She wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Emma smiled. “She said it would be good for me to get out of New York. I was so embarrassed when I saw Megan, I was going to turn around and go home. But then I met Betty, and Lola suggested we do the talent show, and it seemed more fun to stay.”
Fletcher walked over to Emma and took her hand. “I don’t know if I believe in synchronicity, but I’m glad you’re here.”
“You’re not angry that I didn’t tell you in the first place?” She looked at him.
“I can see how it would have been hard to explain,” he chuckled. “I don’t even know how the watch ended up at the jewelry store. When Megan moved some of her stuff into my place, she asked if she could get rid of a few things in my drawer. She must have read the inscription and decided she didn’t want a reminder of old girlfriends,” he said thoughtfully. “I still remember when I found the watch in my suitcase after I arrived in London. I called to thank you, but you never answered. I even tried calling your parents, but they never returned my call. Finally I gave up and put it in a drawer.”
Emma froze. She’d never told Fletcher the truth about her job at Ogilvy & Mather in New York. Should she tell him now? If she did, it might ruin everything. But she convinced herself there couldn’t be any secrets between them. He had been so understanding about her finding the watch and following him to Vermont, and it had all happened so long ago.
“I never understood why you didn’t give it to me in person,” he finished. “I looked for you at graduation, but you disappeared.”
“I tried to give it to you. I went to your dorm the morning of graduation, but you weren’t there,” she answered. “I chickened out and put it in your suitcase.”
“What do you mean, you chickened out?” Fletcher asked. “And why didn’t you return my calls? I tried to find a number for you in Milwaukee, but Ogilvy & Mather wouldn’t give me any information.”
“That’s because I wasn’t in Milwaukee. I was working at Ogilvy & Mather in New York.”
Fletcher moved away, and Emma felt a chill run down her spine.
“What did you say?” he gasped.
“The night of the opening of Romeo and Juliet, you asked me to deliver your script. I knocked over an envelope on your desk and a one-way ticket to London fell out. I read the letter and it was a job offer at the Old Vic. I waited for you to mention it at dinner, but you never did.” She looked at Fletcher. “Do you remember? I said something about you getting a job in London and you said that would never happen. I was so hurt that you lied to me, I pretended my job was in Milwaukee.” She gulped. “There’s no theater scene, and I knew you wouldn’t follow me. Ogilvy & Mather did hire me, but to be an assistant copywriter in New York.”
“I don’t understand,” Fletcher said, puzzled. “Why would you lie to me?”
“I felt so betrayed. I didn’t want you to call from London and break up with me. I thought if I said I was going to be in Milwaukee, it would be a clean break.” She blinked back tears. “That’s why I disappeared after graduation. I was afraid I couldn’t go through with it. I’d say something and ruin everything.”
“You did ruin everything! I was in love with you.” Fletcher’s eyes flashed. “I didn’t tell you at dinner because I was saving up money for your airfare, and wanted it to be a surprise. I only accepted Harry’s offer because I thought you didn’t care about our relationship. All you talked about was the job in Milwaukee, and there wasn’t anything there for me. I thought, if your career was more important to you than our relationship, I may as well move across the Atlantic.”
“You wanted it to be a surprise?” Emma gasped.
“I’d been working extra shifts to save money for weeks. I suppose I could have told you then, but I wanted to make sure I could afford the ticket. I never dreamed of going to London without you.” He started pacing. “I spent the first few weeks in London with a terrible cold, because it rained all June and I didn’t have a raincoat. My room in Harry’s house was the size of a closet, and his other children lived at home so I didn’t have a moment alone. I was tempted to chuck the whole thing and come back to America, but I couldn’t see the point.”
“Maybe destiny was working then, and it was good you didn’t know the truth,” Emma said reflectively. “If you had come home, you would have missed out on a brilliant career.”
“I couldn’t care less about destiny! It didn’t feel good when I was lonelier than I had ever been in my life,” Fletcher grumbled. “If I hadn’t met Graham, I might have thrown myself into the Thames or drowned my sorrows in whiskey. If you knew about the letter, you should have told me. I would have explained everything.”
“I’m sorry,” Emma said. “I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.”
Fletcher looked up and it was if he didn’t see her.
“I’m going to go,” he said hoarsely.
“What do you mean?” Emma asked.
“I have to put Lola first,” he said. “I’m sorry. But there isn’t room in my life for this kind of drama.”
“I see,” Emma said, nodding. Her body felt as if it was encased in ice. She knotted her coat around her waist and turned to the door. “I’ll go. You’re still working on the set and you don’t want to disappoint anyone. I’ve done enough of that myself.”
* * *
Luckily Betty was talking on the phone when Emma entered The Smuggler’s Inn. Emma ran past the kitchen and raced upstairs, unbuttoning her coat. She didn’t want to talk to anyone; she didn’t want to do anything except let the cold realization of what happened with Fletcher seep through her bones.
She shouldn’t have lied to Fletcher, but it had been for the right reasons. And it had been eleven years ago. Fletcher was the one who said their relationship should be a new beginning. Everyone made mistakes; it was part of being young and inexperienced.
Lola would sense the friction between Emma and Fletcher, and she didn’t want to spoil the talent show. She eyed her suitcase and wondered if she should leave while the roads were still passable. She could write a note and say it was some kind of emergency, that Liv or Sarah was sick and Bronwyn needed her. But could she abandon Lola, when Megan had just done the same?
It was all too confusing, and Emma didn’t know which way to turn. She opened the drawers and emptied sweaters and slacks on the bed. Lola wasn’t her concern anymore. Emma was alone, and all she wanted was to get as far from Fletcher and The Smuggler’s Inn as possible.
Twenty
New Year’s Eve
Snowberry, Vermont
FLETCHER PACED AROUND THE LIBR
ARY of The Smuggler’s Inn and sipped his scotch. It was mid-afternoon, and he was only allowing himself one drink. He glanced at the bottle on the sideboard and wished he could keep refilling his glass until everything was as blurry as the snow falling outside the window.
After Emma left the playhouse, he’d attempted to work on the set. But he narrowly missed hitting his thumb with the hammer, and then the podium almost toppled on top of him. He finally gave up and came back to the inn.
Betty was in the kitchen when he arrived, and she showed him the note that Emma had left for Betty in her room. Her friend Bronwyn was sick, and Emma had to go and help with the girls. She was sorry to leave before the talent show, but she was afraid she’d get stuck in the snow. There was a postscript asking Betty to apologize to Lola, and hoping Betty could accompany Lola on the piano.
Fletcher read it twice before handing it to Betty. He asked if Emma had left a note for him. Betty looked at him with something odd in her eyes and said that it was the only letter she’d found.
Now Fletcher replayed their conversation at the playhouse in his head and wondered if he’d overreacted. Emma had lied to him all those years ago; she hadn’t given him a chance to make a decision about their future.
Would things have been different if he’d told Emma about Harry’s offer instead of waiting until he could afford to buy her a plane ticket? But on the other hand, if she’d had any faith in their relationship, she would have known he wouldn’t go anywhere without her.
Then there was Lola. How could he put all his energy into raising Lola if he and Emma were already arguing? Maybe Graham was right, and the idea of rekindling things with Emma had been crazy in the first place.
He put the glass on the side table and walked into the hallway. Music floated from the conservatory and he peeked through the door. Lola was sitting at the piano, wearing a striped pinafore and turning the pages of a songbook.
“Where is everyone?” Lola said, looking up. “Betty isn’t in the kitchen, and I haven’t seen Emma all day. She was supposed to help me rehearse; the talent show starts in three hours.”
“Betty went into the village with Stephen,” Fletcher said, entering the conservatory. “Emma had an emergency. She went back to New York.”
“Emma wouldn’t do that to me!” Lola’s eyes widened. “She knows the talent show is the most important thing in the world.”
“I’m sure it was unavoidable,” Fletcher said uncomfortably. “Her friend got sick and she had to help take care of her goddaughters.”
“I have to call her and beg her to come back.” Lola was suddenly a little girl. There were tears in her eyes, and her mouth wobbled.
“There’s probably no phone reception in this weather.” Fletcher waved at the snow falling outside. “I’m sure Emma is as upset as you are. What if I help you practice? What are you singing?”
“The talent show won’t be the same without Emma,” Lola said stubbornly. “But I do need someone to practice with.” She flipped through the songbook. “Emma picked out the song. It’s called ‘So This Is Christmas.’”
“Emma picked it out?” Fletcher repeated.
“She told me the whole story. It was when she was at college and the boy she was in love with surprised her with a night at a romantic inn and made a CD of her favorite Christmas songs,” Lola gushed. “Isn’t that dreamy? He finally told her he loved her and it was the best Christmas she ever had.”
“That’s a wonderful story.” Fletcher remembered the night they’d spent at the Village Inn during Christmas of their senior year. Fletcher had rented every Christmas movie that was set in New York, and had made a CD of Christmas songs.
Lola ran through the song three times, stopping to rub her throat.
“What do you think?” she asked. “I was afraid I couldn’t hit the high notes.”
“You were superb,” Fletcher said truthfully. “You’ve never sung better.”
“I wanted to sing it for Cammi over Skype, she’s a good critic,” Lola continued. “But she got in trouble and her mother took away her computer and grounded her for a month.”
“What did she get in trouble for?” Fletcher asked, grateful to change the subject from the talent show and Emma.
“She let her guinea pig out and he chewed her mother’s fur coat. Cammi said it served her mother right for owning fur, because you shouldn’t kill animals,” Lola reported. “Cammi was afraid her mother would never forgive her. I told her everyone makes mistakes. Once the punishment is over, everything will go back to normal. No one stays mad forever.”
“What did you say?” Fletcher asked sharply.
“Which part?” Lola wondered. “Apparently it was a mink that Cammi’s stepfather brought back from Paris.”
“Not about the coat, about making mistakes and being punished,” Fletcher urged her.
“That’s the great thing about being a parent,” Lola replied. “You can teach your kid lessons while showing you love them at the same time. Once I left the lid on the peanut butter jar loose and when Mom picked it up, it shattered on the kitchen floor. She sent me to my room and took away television for one night,” Lola finished. “I know she loves me; she just didn’t want it to happen again. Now I screw the lids on jars as tightly as possible. And forgiveness isn’t just important between parents and children, it’s something you have to do as an adult. I read a series about forgiveness in mom’s Good Housekeeping. Every month it highlights a different story. Last month it was about a woman who couldn’t forgive her husband for leaving the door open and their dog, Fluffy, running away. The husband had a broken arm and he couldn’t carry the groceries and close the door at the same time. It was only open for a minute but Fluffy bolted before they could stop him. The magazine pointed out that it was his wife’s fault too: she could have offered to carry the groceries or Fluffy could have been better trained. Anyway, Fluffy was found and he was fine.”
Why hadn’t Fletcher been able to forgive Emma? She’d lied about the job in Milwaukee, but it was only because she’d felt betrayed. Everyone made mistakes, and if he loved her, he had to forgive her. The snow was thick on the windowpane and he wondered if it was too late. But he couldn’t sit at The Smuggler’s Inn. He’d let Emma go once without a fight; he wouldn’t do it again.
“I have to go somewhere.” He jumped up.
“Now?” Lola said in alarm. “It’s snowing, and the talent show starts soon.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be back in plenty of time.” He gave her a hug. “You really are the best thing I’ve ever done. I’m lucky to be your father.”
* * *
Fletcher drove down Route 100 and peered through the windshield. The snow was falling so hard, he could barely see a few feet in front of him. As soon as he had inched the car out of The Smuggler’s Inn driveway, he knew it was foolish. Emma was probably on the interstate by now, heading back to New York.
Something kept him moving forward. He passed the only open diner and scanned the parking lot, hoping she’d stopped for a cup of coffee. But she wasn’t at the diner, and the guy at the gas station hadn’t seen her.
He had to give up; he couldn’t risk getting stuck and missing the talent show. He turned the car and headed back to Snowberry. Suddenly his car swerved as he noticed a Honda on the side of the road. Its windshield wipers were waving furiously and the windows were covered in snow.
He parked behind it and rapped on the window. The door opened gingerly and Emma poked her face out.
“Fletcher! What are you doing here?” she gasped.
“Are you all right?” He ignored her question. “Your lips are blue, we need to get you to a doctor.”
“I’m fine, the car slipped off the road and I couldn’t get it to budge,” she said uncertainly. “I called triple A and they’ll be along soon.”
“You’re not waiting in this car, it’s freezing in here,” he exclaimed. “We’ll leave it here and take my car back to the inn.”
“I can’t make you g
o to all that trouble,” she said stiffly. “And you haven’t told me what you’re doing out here.”
“We’ll talk about it in my car.” He said gently, opening the door.
Emma followed Fletcher into his car and slid into the passenger seat. He turned on the engine and put the heat on high. Emma stopped shivering and the color returned to her cheeks.
“Thank you.” Emma rubbed her hands. “I guess I was colder than I thought.”
“Betty showed me the note, but I didn’t believe it.” Fletcher looked at Emma. “You told me Bronwyn is in Palm Beach with her husband and children. Unless she came down with some tropical disease, I don’t see how she needed your help.”
“I made that up. I couldn’t stay; I didn’t want to spoil the talent show for Lola,” Emma acknowledged. “But I couldn’t go through with it. Lola was counting on me accompanying her on the piano. I turned around, and the car skidded and landed in a ditch.”
“Is that the only reason you were coming back to The Smuggler’s Inn?” Fletcher asked.
“What other reason could there be?” she wondered. “You made it pretty clear that you needed to put Lola first, and that our relationship wouldn’t work. I thought you wanted me to leave.”
“Whatever I made you think, I was wrong,” he said, and gulped. “I came out to find you because I couldn’t let you go.”
“You came out in this snowstorm to find me?” she gasped.
“I thought I was doing the right thing by turning you away. Even if I had feelings for you, I had to put Lola first. But then Lola told me this story about Cammi getting grounded, and I realized that a parent has to teach forgiveness.” He looked at Emma. “You lied because your feelings were hurt. But I made a mistake too. I should have told you about Harry’s offer instead of keeping the plane ticket a surprise.”
“We were both young and inexperienced,” Emma offered. “I didn’t leave a note for you or Lola because I didn’t want to lie to you both,” she explained. “I thought I could just disappear and we’d never see each other.”
