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“Happy New Year!” Ingrid yelled, lifting her glass.
They touched rims. Erin set hers on the sill and turned to Claire. Their kiss began softly, then deepened as Claire slipped one arm around her waist. Erin held her close for several quiet seconds after they parted.
“Happy New Year,” she murmured.
Claire smiled. “It certainly is.”
They stayed near the windows and watched distant fireworks appear above town while they finished their champagne. Afterward, they returned to the kitchen and divided the leftovers while Ingrid insisted Erin take home most of the oliebollen.
Nearly twenty minutes had passed before Ingrid gathered her coat, mixing bowl, and spoon. She kissed Erin on both cheeks, then surprised Claire by doing the same.
“Thank you for including me,” she said.
“Thank you for sharing your tradition with us,” Claire said. “And for not letting Erin eat all of them.”
Ingrid buttoned her coat. “Next year I will make twice as many. She cannot be stopped, only slowed.”
They watched from the porch as her taillights traced the cleared road and vanished around the bend. Once she and Erin were back inside, Claire closed the door. Glasses remained on the coffee table, and cards lay scattered where Ingrid had abandoned her winning hand.
Erin leaned against the wall and smiled at her. “We’ve toasted the new year.”
“But we haven’t properly welcomed it,” Claire said.
“What did you have in mind?”
Claire crossed the room and slipped her hands around Erin’s waist. “I’d like to spend the first hour making certain you remember exactly where you were when this year began.”
Erin drew her closer. “That sounds like a tradition worth keeping.” She followed Claire upstairs, more than willing to make the tradition memorable.
Chapter Seventeen
Claire wrapped both hands around her coffee mug and said the sentence Erin had been dreading since their first night together in the boutique.
“I need to leave by eight tomorrow morning. The pass is supposed to stay clear through midday, and I have a meeting at four o’clock I can’t move.”
Erin chewed slowly and then swallowed. “Okay.”
Claire studied her across the rim of the mug. “That’s not the reply I was hoping for.”
“What were you hoping for?”
“Something closer to ‘I’d like to see you again, and here is how we might accomplish that without pretending six hours of mountain highway doesn’t exist.’”
Erin’s chest tightened. She pulled her bare feet onto the chair and tucked them beneath her. “I’d like to see you again. Six hours of mountain highway absolutely exists, but it’s doable.”
“Then let’s talk about it.”
“Right now?” Erin asked.
“Unless you’d prefer to wait until I’m already on I-70 and we’re having this conversation through a Bluetooth speaker while I pass an eighteen-wheeler.”
Erin almost laughed. Almost. She reached for her coffee instead and held it against her chest, letting the heat settle her. “I want this to continue, Claire. I need you to know that before I start listing obstacles.”
Claire set her mug down. “I want it to continue too. Let’s talk about the obstacles.”
So Erin explained the practical problems. The drive would take six hours, her boutique schedule offered little flexibility, and she could not close the boutique every time she wanted to see Claire. The Valentine’s rush was already approaching. She also recorded online classes on weekends.
Claire listened without interrupting. When Erin finished, she nodded once.
