She finished her list of commercial ideas and bought another coffee. She still hadn’t been recognized. She was grateful—but fearful. What if she looked so different that nobody would say her name?
When the next ferry was back at the dock and preparing to go, Willa paid for a long-term parking spot in a garage far from the pier. She handed her keys to the valet driver, who couldn’t have been older than twenty-one, and watched as he and two of his colleagues removed her suitcase and her midsize bag from the trunk. They piled them on a luggage cart and told her to have a wonderful time on the island. “Christmas is amazing over there!” the twenty-one-year-old said, just before he got in her car to drive it away. “You’re from Chicago. It’s night and day from the big city.” His smile twinkled.
For a moment, Willa was taken aback at the fact that he’d known where she was from. But when he drove down the lot, she saw the license plate on the back of her car. Of course. He’d put two and two together. She had to stop overthinking this.
Willa boarded the ferry and grabbed a seat downstairs. Because it was late and already mostly dark over the water, clouds inked with blue and purple, and only a few other stragglers came with her. They lived on the island, she assumed. But she didn’t recognize them.
Just to be safe, she removed another scarf from her bag and wrapped it around and around her neck to obscure her face. She pulled her winter hat far over her ears, blocking her eyebrows. All you could see were her blue eyes and the tops of her peaches-and-cream cheeks. She could be anyone.
The ferry ride took just as long as it always had: sixteen minutes across surprisingly calm waters. Willa could remembertimes when the water had sloshed wildly, casting them this way and that on the boat. The Straits were where Lake Michigan and Lake Huron met, two of the largest lakes in the world. There was power in these waters.
When the ferry reached the island, Willa kept her eyes down. She didn’t want to see the beautiful, proud houses on the hill, didn’t want to see the carriages and their horses, and didn’t want to see the warm orange glow in the windows. It terrified her to return to this island, so much so that when the ferry ramp dropped and they were called to disembark, she considered staying on the boat and paying for a return ticket. She couldn’t do this.
But when one of the ferry boat workers came to check on her, telling her gently, “Ma’am, we’re here,” she bolted to her feet, made sure her scarf was secure, and descended the ramp. The fiercely cold air brought tears to her eyes. The only bags on the suitcase rack belonged to her, and she hauled them off and rolled them to the sidewalk.
As she stood there, she was overcome by the smell of fudge. Her knees were weak, and her mouth watered. All she wanted in the world was to sink her teeth into some fudgy goodness. At the same time, she knew it would break her heart so much that she’d never be able to put it back together.
She felt like she might faint.
Suddenly, a carriage approached: a knight in shining armor, her ticket away from the lively downtown. It was perfect. She’d take a carriage and her bags back to the rental cabin for the following weeks, hole up, rest, and prepare for her meeting tomorrow. Gavin had arranged everything. There was even food stocked in the cabinets and fridge, including a few of her favorites that she’d requested. There was Wi-Fi. Tonight, she could watch bad television and fall asleep.
“Good evening, ma’am,” the man in the carriage said, slowing his horses to a halt.
Willa’s feeling of calm immediately splintered. She jerked her head up to see him, sitting with the reins loosely in his hands. He wore a soft and masculine smile, slightly hidden by a big black beard, and there were a few strands of gray around his temples.
It was Marius. Marius Isaacson. She couldn’t believe it. All day, she’d been terrified to run into someone, to be called out. Yet the first person who’d approached her in a carriage was Marius Isaacson. She could have laughed, but she was too petrified.
When she didn’t answer, Marius’s smile faltered. “Where are you off to?”
Obviously, he didn’t recognize her, not with all these scarves.
“Oh, I’m just, um. I’ll take the next one,” Willa said, trying to conceal her voice.
“Yeah? There aren’t that many of us out tonight, and I don’t mind a bit of a drive,” Marius said. “And the horses are eager to take you. That’s Cinnamon, and that’s Brax.” He introduced them as though they were his oldest friends.
Willa remembered how much he’d loved horses, dogs, and cats. He’d loved all animals. Back when she’d really known him, his soul had been the most beautiful, so tender and sweet.
“Come on,” Marius said. “I’ll take you anywhere you want to go!”
Willa felt she couldn’t get out of it without revealing herself, so she said, “I’m going to the Rosemary Cottage.”
Marius’s eyes calmed. “I’ll take you there. Can I help you with your bags?”
Willa didn’t want him to get down from his driver’s seat. “I got them!” she cried, hurrying to throw her suitcase and other bag inside. She hauled herself into the seat behind Marius, herheart pounding. She couldn’t believe he was so close. His strong back was just six inches away from her nose. She wanted to call someone and tell them about this, but she had nobody to talk to. She was alone in her nostalgia, alone in her pain.
It was just a fifteen-minute ride to Rosemary Cottage. She could sit here quietly, watching the snow fall lightly on either side of the carriage, and clop along. It didn’t matter that Marius Isaacson was her driver. It didn’t matter that, somewhere in the dark part of her heart, it felt like fate.
Fate didn’t exist. It was just as false as Christmas cheer.
It was bound to fail you.
Chapter Five
Willa
Summer 2001
It was Willa’s idea to try the new butterscotch recipe. Their father, Frank, said it was “genius,” and he couldn’t believe they hadn’t done it before. Frank, Willa, and Amelie set to work right away at four in the morning. Amelie and Willa, trained in the art of making fudge since the age of nine, were focused and sure of themselves, conscious of their father’s eyes on their every move. When they finished, they waited for it to set and ran through the rest of their chores. It was mid-July and the busiest time of the year. They had to be ready for the onslaught of tourists. By noon, they knew the store would be busy.
