Maddie opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, a large orange tabby wound its way between her legs. “Well, hello,” she murmured, reaching down to scratch behind his ears. “You’re not too thin, are you?” she whispered with a smile.
The cat’s fur was warm and soft beneath her fingers, and his loud purring filled the quiet space. He leaned hard into Maddie’s hand, closing his eyes in obvious pleasure.
“That’s Ernie,” Schatzi said, straightening up with a loaf pan of hot bread in her oven mitts.
“Ernie?” That struck Maddie as an odd name for a cat.
Schatzi shrugged. “You don’t name cats. They name themselves. You just have to be smart enough to listen when they tell you what it is.” Schatzi winked as if making sure Maddie knew she was being funny. “He’s been my constant companion since not long after you-know-who left this world.”
“Oh.” Maddie’s heart tightened. Jack had loved Aunt Schatzi’s mountain house as much as she did. Every summer, they’d come up here together, hiking the trails, chopping wood for the winter, laughing at her stories, snuggling with mugs of hot cocoa by the fire. Those memories felt distant, like they belonged to someone else.
The sound of Schatzi clattering bowls onto the table pulled Maddie back to the present. “Sit, sit,” Schatzi said, waving her over to the table. “I made your favorite soup. Chicken and wild rice.”
Maddie sat down, the chair creaking beneath her. She hadn’t realized how much she had missed this—warm food, familiar company, the soft glow of a fire on a winter’s day. Schatzi set a steaming bowl of soup in front of her, the smell rich and savory, and placed a cutting board with the loaf of bread on the table along with a crock of butter. The golden crust crackled as Maddie tore off a piece.
Maddie dipped the bread into the soup and took a bite. The warmth spread through her, the taste of the broth comforting in a way she hadn’t expected. For the first time in a long while, she felt something very much like peace.
As they ate, Ernie curled up at her feet, his fur brushing against her legs. The storm intensified, the wind howling as the snow fell thicker and faster. The world outside was cold and wild, but inside, the warmth of the fire, the food, and Schatzi’s quiet companionship wrapped around Maddie like a much-needed hug.
“Maybe after we eat I should get some more firewood in,” Maddie offered.
“No need,” Schatzi said. “We’re well stocked.”
They went back to eating, and Maddie was fine with the silence. The bread and the soup were delicious, really hitting the spot. Since losing Jack, she hadn’t done much cooking. It was easier to heat up a premade meal.
Now she remembered why cooking was so much better. Aunt Schatzi’s lunch was as good as gourmet.
“So,” Schatzi said after a few moments, her tone more serious. “You’ve been keeping busy?”
Maddie nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Busy wasn’t the right word. Surviving was closer to the truth. She had filled her days with as many tasks as possible, trying to keep her mind from wandering back to Jack and the gaping hole his absence had left. She wondered what Becca would say about all of that.
If she even remembered what it was like to stop moving for a moment, to feel the stillness.
Schatzi watched her, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “You know, Christmas isn’t just about doing things. It’s about being present. About feeling the spirit of the holiday. You’ve got to let yourself feel it again. You’ve got to get back to feeling what you used to feel.”
Maddie swallowed hard. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.
Schatzi reached across the table, her hand warm and dry as it settled on Maddie’s. “You’ll get there,” she said softly. “This house, these mountains, this land—they have a way of bringing you back.”
Outside, the wind howled and the snow swirled, but inside the house, surrounded by the comforting sounds of the crackling fire, the soothing aroma of fresh bread, and the quiet companionship of a fat cat and a familiar face, Maddie wondered if maybe Aunt Schatzi was right.
Maybe the mountains did have a way of bringing you back. But would it be enough to help her?
Chapter Two
The next morning, Maddie woke to soft, diffused light filtering through the curtains. For a moment, she wasn’t sure where she was. The smell of pine and lavender hung faintly in the air, and from somewhere downstairs came the gentle crackle of a fire and the murmur of soft conversation.
Then it all came back to her: the mountain house, Aunt Schatzi, Ernie, the snowstorm, and the quiet sense of escape she hadn’t realized she needed.
She listened for a couple of seconds and smiled. Aunt Schatzi was telling Ernie what a good boy he was.
Still smiling at the sweet exchange, Maddie pulled herself out of bed, the chill in the room nipping at her skin as her bare feet hit the rag rug covering the cold wooden floor. Shivering, a quick glance out the window confirmed what she’d already suspected. The world outside remained blanketed in a thick layer of snow, the mountains rising in the distance like a scene from a postcard.
The sky was a pale blue, the sun reflecting off the snow in blinding patches. It was beautiful and deeply quiet. The kind of peaceful stillness that came after a storm.
She shed her flannel nightshirt to pull on leggings and a long-sleeve T-shirt, then wrapped herself in a thick cardigan andtucked her feet into slipper socks. Feeling warmer, Maddie made her way downstairs. The welcome scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the smoky warmth of the fire and something a little spicy. Cinnamon, maybe? Was there anything better to wake up to on a winter’s morning?
When she entered the living room, she found Aunt Schatzi sitting in her chair by the hearth, Ernie sprawled lazily on the rug at her feet, looking more like a bathmat than a house cat.
