It was the only way to honor all the sacrifices that had brought her to this moment, by refusing to sacrifice anything she truly wanted. By being brave enough to want it all, even if having it all meant being tired for the next decade. By trusting that somewhere in the juggle of textbooks and inn ledgers, wedding plans and pregnancy tests, lab reports and ice fishing gear, she'd find a way to make it work.
One semester, one season, one Sunday morning at a time.
CHAPTER 38
The second weekend of Christmas Prelude arrived with a bitter cold snap that had everyone bundled up in layers of clothing. The thermometer outside the inn's kitchen read twelve degrees at noon, and with the wind chill, it felt like minus five. Kate stood at the window, watching guests bundle up in every piece of clothing they'd brought, preparing for Santa's arrival by lobster boat at three o'clock.
“You're not seriously going to stand at the harbor for an hour in this weather,” Marcy said, pulling another batch of cookies from the oven. The kitchen had been running nonstop since Thursday, feeding the weekend warriors who'd come for round two of Prelude festivities.
“It's tradition,” Kate said. “Besides, our guests expect us to be there.”
“We’ll be so bundled up, I don’t think they’d even recognize us under all these clothes,” Dani muttered, but she was already wrapping herself in the vintage fur coat she'd found at an estate sale. “The hat parade yesterday nearly killed me. My feet are still numb.”
“That's because you wore fashion boots instead of winter boots,” Tom pointed out, sensibly dressed in his L.L.Bean finest.
“Someone has to maintain standards,” Dani shot back.
By two-thirty, the entire inn contingent was making their way to the harbor. The second weekend always drew more locals than tourists, and Kate recognized most of the faces, people she'd known her whole life, bundled beyond recognition but identifiable by their voices, their laughs, their familiar complaints about the cold.
Kate had wrapped her scarf around her face multiple times, covering everything from her nose down. The wool was thick enough that breathing through it created a small pocket of warm air, though it made talking nearly impossible. She and Ben made their way to the harbor.
“I can't feel my toes,” Kate mumbled through the scarf.
“What?” Ben leaned closer, trying to hear her.
She pulled the scarf down just enough to free her mouth. “I said, I can't feel my toes.”
“Already? We've been here less than five minutes.”
“Five minutes too long.” She pulled the scarf back up, burying her face in the wool.
Around them, the crowd was growing despite the brutal temperature. Children in snowsuits so puffy they could barely move were being held up to see over the railing. The Murphy family had brought hot chocolate in thermoses, passing cups around to anyone nearby. Mrs. Porter stood regally in what appeared to be an actual mink coat, seemingly immune to the cold through sheer force of will.
“Look!” someone shouted. “There's the boat!”
The lobster boat came into view, decorated with lights and garland that whipped in the wind. Santa stood in the bow, one hand on his hat to keep it from flying away, the other waving determinedly despite the spray that must have been coating him with ice.
“That's Charlie's father,” Ben said, recognizing the boat. “He's going to be a Santa-sicle by the time they dock.”
Kate tried to respond but her words were completely muffled by the scarf. She'd pulled it up even higher, now covering everything but her eyes.
“You look like a wool mummy.” Ben laughed.
She glared at him over the scarf, which only made him laugh harder.
The boat was doing its traditional harbor tour, stopping near each viewing area so everyone could get photos. Parents held up their phones with hands that were probably too numb to feel the buttons. The high school band, stationed on the dock, attempted to play “Jingle Bells,” though half the instruments had frozen and the sound carried away on the wind.
Kate pressed closer to the railing, and Ben moved behind her, blocking the worst of the wind. She leaned back against him, grateful for the windbreak and the warmth.
“We could always move to Florida,” he said close to her ear, his breath warm against her frozen skin.
Kate turned to look at him, saw he was smiling. She shook her head firmly, the scarf shifting with the movement. She pulled it down just enough to speak clearly.
“No way. I can't ice fish in Florida.”
Ben smiled. “That would be a deal breaker, wouldn't it?”
“Absolutely. Where would I go to think? To escape? Sitting on some beach with sand everywhere?” She shuddered theatrically. “I’ll need my own ice shack,my hole in the ice and the absolute quiet. Plus Florida has alligators and hurricanes and no proper seasons.”
