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CHAPTER ONE

Emily “Emmie” Withers sat in her husband’s office and stared out the window. On this late day in October in Ellenton, New York, the leaves on a variety of trees had already shown off their beautiful colors before fading to a dull brown and falling to the ground. A few brown ones were still clinging to tree branches for as long as they could. These cooler days were another reason for the gloom that enveloped her.

It would be her second holiday season without her beloved Earl, who’d died from a stroke that disabled him for almost a year before his death. Since then, she had mustered up the strength to help one daughter get married and celebrate her older daughter’s announcement of her first pregnancy. All this was done with an inner strength that she forced herself to demonstrate. She longed for the day when memories didn’t assail her, and she could grab onto life with joy.

Knowing she couldn’t delay it any longer, Emmie sighed and went to work, sorting through Earl’s desk before going through the boxes in the office closet. She had her own home office and had all the paperwork she needed, so she had pretty much left his space alone.

But now, it was time to clean it out. Emmie and her pregnant daughter, Lauren, had decided to turn the office into the baby’s nursery. Lauren wanted it to be a place for the baby when she, her husband, Rick, and the baby came to visit Emmie from their home in New York City.

Her cell rang, and she answered it, quickly agreeing to meet a female friend for a drink and a casual dinner. Her life was busy, and she kept it that way. She was the office manager at a local law firm, had a circle of friends, hosted a monthly book club, and loved to walk through their small town for the exercise she needed.

She could easily have dated. After the appropriate mourning period, several men had asked her out. But if things got serious, Emmie backed away. There was something about dating a man that her husband knew or might have known in town that made it seem too weird.

Emmie had just emptied the main desk drawer and was sorting through pens, rubber bands, paper clips, and the other small items Earl had kept there when Lauren called.

“Hi, Mom, I’m sorry I can’t help with Dad’s office this weekend. Rick has an important business function to attend, and I promised I’d go with him.”

“No problem. There will be plenty of time for you to help. I’m going to take it one day at a time. Once the office is cleared, we’ll hire a painter to come in. Have you chosen the color for the room yet?”

“Yes, I think so. But I want to be sure. Next weekend I’ll bring paint chips to use to confirm. Thanks, Mom, you’re already the best Grandma ever.”

Emmie felt a new thread of excitement. “I can’t wait.” Some women her age might be distressed at the idea of being called Grandma, but at fifty-five, Emmie still had a younger woman’s body and energy level. She stood five feet three inches tall and made no apologies for dyeing her straight, shoulder-length hair blonde. It accented her blue eyes. Though she liked to look nice, she wasn’t someone who overly fussed about her appearance.

After ending the call, Emmie continued to go through the desk drawers. She opened the file drawer, scanned the folders, discarded some, and set others aside for her records. She picked up a file marked: “SECRET GIFT”. Frowning, she opened it and saw what looked like a sealed envelope with a return address showing: The Beach House Hotel in Sabal, Florida.

She opened the envelope carefully and slid out the folded piece of high-quality paper inside.

Her eyes scanned the letter, opening wider and wider as shock, then pain took over, making them tear up.

The letter, dated a little over two years ago, was addressed to Earl Withers and was signed by both Ann Sanders and Rhonda Grayson, the owners of the hotel. In it, they explained that though it was unusual to secure reservations this way, they would be pleased to reserve the Presidential Suite for the Christmas holiday week in his wife’s name for this year, even though he’d be gone. They mentioned they would verify the reservation in the months leading up to the holiday. The letter included a receipt for a healthy deposit and best wishes to Earl for creating this tender remembrance for his wife.

Emmie set the letter down, buried her face in her hands, and sobbed for all the good times and bad that she’d had with Earl. He was a wonderful man and had always promised her something special for their thirty-fifth wedding anniversary. To think he’d done this for her touched her soul to its core.

She looked through the file for a letter from him to her, but found nothing. But then, he’d been disabled at the end of his life.

Emmie managed to get through the rest of the files but kept returning to the letter lying open on his desk. She was still trying to come to terms with what he’d done for her. He was such a sweet, sweet man.

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Later, sitting in Caruso’s Restaurant, sipping wine with her best friend, Kate Neames, Emmie told her about the letter and how much the gesture meant to her.

Kate reached across the table and gave her hand a squeeze. “I knew about this and was waiting for you to discover it. Brad helped Earl make the arrangements with the hotel. He was going to talk to you if you didn’t bring it up soon.”

“He kept it quiet from me all this time?” said Emmie.

“When Brad helped Earl with the arrangements, he added it to his business calendar,” Kate said. “In fact, he asked me about it yesterday, but I told him you hadn’t mentioned anything to me.”

Emmie fought tears again. “You must know how grateful I am to the two of you. Not only are you my next-door neighbors and best friends, but you were the perfect couple to help Earl. He knew he could trust you to do this for me.”

“I know your anniversary is coming up in December. Thirty-five years, isn’t it?”

“Yes. Earl always said we’d do something special for it. Now, this, out of the blue. I can’t imagine a better surprise. We’d talked about going there before Earl got sick.”

Kate raised her glass of wine. “After all you’ve been through, I’m delighted for you, Emmie. Here’s to a fabulous trip.”

Emmie tapped her glass of wine against Kate’s. “Thanks. If I am to be in the Presidential Suite, maybe the girls can join me.”

“How are things with them?” asked Kate. “Are you ready to be a grandma? Lauren is due right after the holidays, isn’t she?”