Emmy and I were rushing around my suite above the garage like we were getting ready for the Met Gala instead of a small Christmas party at a struggling mountain lodge. But that was the beauty of having a best friend who treated every social occasion like it deserved her full glamorous attention.
It wasn’t often we got to get girly. I rarely did my makeup and rarer yet was me in a dress. That didn’t mean I didn’t like to dress up. It just wasn’t practical in my life. I could admit I was putting in just a little more effort because of a certain someone.
My apartment was comfortable in the way that spaces are when they’ve been furnished slowly over time with pieces that have stories attached to them. The sofa had come from a garage sale three towns over. The coffee table had been my grandmother’s. The bookshelf was made from reclaimed barn wood that Brom had found when they’d torn down the old storage building behind the lodge. I loved to recycle. And upcycle.
My vanity was the same one I had used since I was thirteen, complete with some glittery fairy stickers that I never had the heart to remove. Every time I sat down to do my makeup, thosefaded stickers reminded me of the girl who used to dream about prince charming while practicing with her mother’s lipstick.
Emmy looked absolutely stunning in a slinky black dress that showed off her figure without being inappropriate for a family event. She’d paired it with emerald earrings that brought out her eyes and a faux-fur jacket that had belonged to her grandmother. The overall effect was pure old Hollywood glamour.
She was currently strutting around my small bedroom, pretending to puff on an invisible cigarette like Cruella de Vil while regaling me with stories from her shift at the coffee shop earlier that day.
“So this absolutely gorgeous guy comes in around two o’clock,” she said, striking a dramatic pose against my dresser. “Tall, blond, built like he spends his weekends chopping wood for fun. Orders a double espresso and asks if I know anything about the hiking trails around here.”
I applied another layer of mascara, trying to perfect the minimal but shimmery look I was going for. “Was he lost?”
“No, turns out he’s here visiting Lucy Gablestone.”
My hand paused midway to my eye. “Why is some strange guy visiting Lucy?”
Lucy had moved to Northwood a few years ago after meeting her future husband at a wedding. She was sweet and had integrated well into our community. I liked her, but I was not going to be complicit in a cheating scandal. My loyalties would always be with the people I grew up with. I had always felt protective of the people who chose to make our little town their home. My radar immediately started pinging when Emmy mentioned some unknown man showing up to visit her.
Emmy laughed at my obvious concern. “Relax, mama bear. The guy is Lucy’s brother. He’s here to visit her before he heads home to see family in Florida for the holidays.”
I felt my shoulders relax. “Oh. Well, that’s nice. Lucy doesn’t get to see her family very often.”
“Exactly. And he seems really nice. Very polite, great tipper, and he asked about all the local businesses like he actually cares about supporting the community.”
I finished my makeup and moved on to my jewelry, selecting my only pair of Christmas earrings from the small collection in my jewelry box. They were diamond snowflakes that my father had bought me for Christmas when I was sixteen. I could still remember how excited he’d been to give them to me. I remembered him telling me they were fit for a princess as he helped me put them on for the first time.
Those were the good old days.
The farm had been thriving then. Our income had been staggering compared to what we were dealing with now. Those earrings represented a time when money wasn’t a constant source of anxiety, when we could afford little luxuries without calculating how they’d affect our ability to pay the electric bill.
I hoped with Kent’s money we could get back to those days. I didn’t want my parents to stress about the future. I wanted Aspen and Alder to have the luxury of growing up on the farm like we did. I loved my childhood. There was nothing I would change about it.
I slipped into my outfit for the evening, a dark green velvet dress that I’d bought on sale two years ago and had been saving for a special occasion. The rich color complemented my hair and made my eyes look more vivid. I paired it with black nylons and knee-high black boots that made me feel confident and put together. The boots had a chunky one-inch heel. Completely manageable. And I had put those traction thingies on the bottom. It didn’t help a lot, but it was better than the slick soles.
As I was checking my reflection one last time, Emmy perched on the edge of my bed and gave me a knowing look.
“So, you’re wearing the dress.”
“I am.”
“You said you would only wear it when there was something special.”
“Yes, I did.”
“You didn’t wear it for the Christmas party last year.”
I knew what she was getting at, but I wasn’t about to make it any easier on her. If she wanted to call me out for dressing up, she was going to have to say it.
“That is correct.”
“Stop,” she groaned. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. It’s a party. It might be our last Christmas party. There’s no time like the present to wear it. I might not get another chance to.”
She slowly nodded. “Well, that’s depressing.”
