Page 68 of Postmarked December

“That you’d be wallowing.” She stopped unzipping the cooler and held up a finger. “I’m not saying that you shouldn’t be wallowing, but I knew you would be.” She pulled out the items and stuck them in the fridge as if she lived there. Then she went into the living room and plopped down on the sofa.

Heather lowered herself beside her. “I think I was better off crying over my wedding video at the beginning of break.”

“Everything went sideways, I’ll give you that.” Marion kicked off her shoes and tucked her feet underneath her. “But lots of great things happened too. You got out, you had some wine and lots of Christmas treats, we took a carriage ride!”

“I feel like I need a vacation from my vacation. I’m exhausted.”

“I think we should take our minds off it. What if we had a spa day tomorrow—something fun that doesn’t have anything to do with notes or the book or anything? I’ll bet I could book us a couple hours at Stillwater Sanctuary. Anthony’s sister has connections.”

“I don’t know if I’m up for it,” Heather said honestly.

“Once the book is released, you might get really busy if you do end up taking Nick to court over it, and you’re going to want to be rested. Tomorrow could be your last day to relax.”

“I worry my head won’t be in it.”

“But you need to get your head back into your life. You can’t change what’s happened to you. All you can do is try to move on. Do something entirely for you this holiday.”

Marion was right. Heather had gotten wrapped up in her past this Christmas, and while meeting Nick had been a setback, she couldn’t hide under her covers forever. “You might be right.”

“I’m always right,” Marion teased. She stood up. “Now, are we eating in or out? It’s dinnertime, and from the looks of you and the state of your full coffeepot over there, I’ll bet you haven’t eaten.”

Despite all she’d been through, good things did happen for Heather, and they were all due to Marion. She couldn’t have managed this season without her.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Midday the next day, Heather found herself dressed in a white robe next to Marion at Stillwater Sanctuary. After having Chinese takeout last night, Marion had spent the evening trying to cheer her up with rom-com movies. While Heather’s troubles hadn’t disappeared, she had to admit Marion had lifted her spirits enough to get her through the evening.

“We’re starting with herbal tea and manicures,” Marion said as they walked barefoot across the natural stone floor toward a pair of cushy, high-backed chairs.

They sat down, and a woman handed them a menu. “We have teas for whatever ails you: calming and stress relief, refreshing and cleansing, warming and comforting, detox, and immune support. I’ll give you a minute.”

Heather squinted at the menu. “A tea for whatever ails me? I’m not sure they have a tea that would make Nick vanish.” Then she waved her hands in the air. “Sorry. Focusing on the present…”

Marion snorted. “That was a good one.” She ran her finger down the choices. “I’d say the anti-Nick teas would be the calming and stress relief or maybe cleansing?”

“The chamomile says it helps you unwind… Or maybe passionflower? That’s relaxing.”

“I’d go with passionflower,” Marion replied, “but that’s just me.”

They settled on warm cups of passionflower tea and a couple shades of red polish for their nails. Two women with crystal bowls containing warm water and lemon slices took their seats across a thin table from them and asked Heather and Marion to soak their fingertips. As the woman across from her squeezed an orange-scented scrub on the backs of Heather’s hands, she tried to keep her mind empty by focusing on the experience.

Low, airy instrumental music played somewhere in the background. Apart from that, the spa was quiet, filled with soft light and muted sounds as the technician applied pressure to parts of her hand she hadn’t realized were fatigued. Warm water steamed gently from the bowl, and the faint scent of lavender lingered in the space between them. She closed her eyes, taking in the feel of the woman rinsing the gritty scrub from her hands and wrapping them in a warm towel. The woman applied lotion to her skin and hit more pressure points. Then she got to work on Heather’s nails.

As the manicure progressed, the atmosphere was unhurried, like a pause set apart from the holiday she’d just had. This, too, shall pass. The nurse who’d helped with Toby had said that at some of the hardest times, and it only came back to Heather now. She’d been so caught up in the frenzy of the holiday that she hadn’t had enough quiet time to remember until this moment. Under the spell of relaxation, she told herself that the book would come out and eventually fade as the next big thing came along. Nick’s type of deception would never hurt her again, because she was more informed about these things now. And, eventually, she’d get over the haunting sadness that he hadn’t been the amazing guy she’d thought he was. She’d keep going, and one day, these things would have passed, and if she was lucky, she might be happy at some point. Or at least content.

Once their manicures and pedicures were finished, with sparkly toes, they headed into another location for facials. They were given a terry cloth headband and strapless wrap to wear, then went into a dark room that smelled of citrus and honey, with candles and more quiet music. They each reclined in a chair lined with comfortable blankets and the facialists got to work, massaging and working their cheekbones, necks, and temples. Heather relaxed, allowing the moment to whisk her away.

After massages and an oil-infused hair treatment and blowout, they twisted up their fresh locks and slipped on their swimsuits for their final activity—a warm soak in a large tub full of rose petals. Heather climbed in and sat next to Marion.

“This was a great idea,” Heather said. “I feel like the ick from the last few days has been scrubbed off me. Thank you.”

Marion smiled. “Glad I could help.” She waved her hands through the rose petals. “There will be tough things in life that we can’t avoid. You know that better than most. But it’s how we manage through them that makes us who we are.”

“Speaking of tough things, did Anthony ever say anything about the parenting book he was reading at the bookshop?”

“No, but he’s been asking a lot of questions, like what makes me know I’m ready to have kids and how am I sure I’ll be able to handle the responsibility.” She ran her hands along the surface of the water, pushing the rose petals into a line. “I think he might be reconsidering, and we haven’t even gone to our first therapy session yet.”

“That’s wonderful news.”