Epilogue Lottie
Lottie
One Year Later...
The morning of Silver Ridge's Harvest Festival dawns crisp and clear, the kind of October day that makes living in the mountains feel like a privilege rather than a choice.
I stand at the window of our cabin, watching mist rise from the valley while coffee brews in the kitchen.
Jakob expanded last month to accommodate my newfound love of elaborate breakfast preparation.
"Ready for the big debut?" Jakob asks, wrapping his arms around me from behind and pressing a kiss to my neck that still sends shivers down my spine after all these months.
"Nervous," I admit, leaning back against his solid warmth. "What if nobody comes? What if they think my cupcakes are terrible? What if this whole business idea is a complete disaster?"
"Then we'll figure out plan B," he says with the steady confidence that first drew me to him. "But Lottie, your cupcakes are extraordinary. Half the town's been begging me for your recipes since you moved here."
Lottie's Mountain Bakery officially opens next month in the renovated space next to Juniper's Diner, but today's festival will be its unofficial debut.
Four varieties of cupcakes, two types of cookies, and a mountain berry pie that's already generated pre-orders from festival committee members who sampled it during planning meetings.
"I still can't believe I'm doing this," I murmur, watching early festival-goers begin setting up booths along Main Street.
"I can," Jakob says firmly. "You're the bravest person I know, Lottie Smith. You left everything comfortable and familiar to chase something better. That takes extraordinary courage."
The past year hasn't been easy. Leaving Nemoy & Associates required burning bridges I'd spent years building, forgoing the partnership I'd worked toward for five years, starting over professionally.
There were nights I questioned every decision, days I wondered if I'd made the biggest mistake of my life.
But waking up every morning in Jakob's arms, in this cabin we've made into our home, surrounded by mountains and community and love—those doubts fade in the face of such overwhelming rightness.
"Speaking of courage," Jakob says, his voice taking on a tone I don't recognize, "there's something I want to ask you."
I turn in his arms, noting the nervous energy radiating from him. Jakob is never nervous—steady, calm, unflappable Jakob who handles everything from business crises to my occasional emotional meltdowns with equal composure.
"What's wrong?" I ask, immediately concerned.
"Nothing's wrong," he says quickly. "Everything's right. That's the problem—everything's so right that I can't wait any longer to make it official."
Before I can process his words, he's dropping to one knee, pulling a small velvet box from his pocket. My heart stops, literally stops, as understanding crashes over me.
"Lottie Smith," he says, his voice rough with emotion, "you turned my world upside down from the moment I saw you in those woods. You made me believe in love at first sight, in taking chances, in building something beautiful from impossible circumstances."
I'm crying now, tears streaming down my face as he opens the box to reveal a ring that takes my breath away. It's not a traditional diamond solitaire—it's a stunning emerald surrounded by small diamonds, set in white gold that catches the morning light like captured starfire.
"The emerald's from the same region where my great-grandfather first settled," Jakob explains, his hands shaking slightly as he holds the ring. “It's completely unique, just like you, just like what we've built together."
"Jakob," I whisper, my voice breaking on his name.
"I know it's only been a year," he continues. "I know some people will say it's too fast, too impulsive. But Lottie, I knew I wanted to marry you three weeks after we met. I've just been waiting for the right moment to ask."
"And this is the right moment?" I manage through tears.
"Every moment with you is the right moment," he says simply. "But today, on the day you officially introduce your dream to our community, surrounded by all the people who've become family. Yes, this feels perfect."
He's right. Through the window, I can see the community that welcomed me, supported my transition, embraced my dreams. They're all here, ready to celebrate another milestone in our evolving story.
"Lottie Smith," Jakob says again, the formality of my full name making this moment feel ceremonial, sacred, "will you marry me? Will you build a life with me here in Silver Ridge, in these mountains, in this community that loves you almost as much as I do?"
"Yes," I breathe, the word barely audible. Then louder, more certain: "Yes, absolutely yes!"
He slides the ring onto my finger with hands that are steadier than mine, the emerald catching light like a captured piece of the forest that brought us together. When he stands and kisses me, I taste salt from both our tears and joy so pure it feels like starlight.
"I love you," I whisper against his lips. "I love you and this life and this home we've built."
"I love you too," he replies. "Forever and always, Lottie Smith soon-to-be-Lindstrom."
Soon-to-be-Lindstrom. The name feels right in a way that surprises me—I've always been fiercely independent about maintaining my identity, but becoming Jakob's wife, joining his family, putting down roots in this place feels like completion rather than compromise.
The festival is in full swing by the time we reach Main Street, and my nerves about the bakery booth evaporate in the face of such genuine community celebration.
People I've come to consider friends and neighbors line up to sample my offerings, their enthusiasm and encouragement warming me more than any corporate approval ever did.
"Is that what I think it is?" Dahlia appears at my booth, her artist's eye immediately spotting the ring I keep unconsciously displaying as I gesture while talking.
"Jakob proposed this morning," I confirm, unable to contain my smile.
The announcement creates a ripple effect that spreads through the crowd faster than wildfire. Within minutes, I'm surrounded by well-wishers, congratulations, and demands to see the ring.
As the sun sets behind the mountains and the festival winds down, we pack up my booth with the satisfied exhaustion that comes from a successful debut.
Every cupcake sold, a dozen special orders taken, and more importantly, the knowledge that Lottie's Mountain Bakery will have a place in this community I've grown to love.
"No regrets?" Jakob asks as we drive home, my engagement ring catching light from the dashboard.
"About what? Leaving Toronto? Starting over? Falling in love with a stubborn equipment operator who proposed at a harvest festival?"
"Any of it. All of it."
I consider the question seriously, examining my life from every angle. The corporate career I abandoned, the financial security I traded for uncertainty, the predictable existence I exchanged for adventure and risk.
"None," I say with absolute conviction. "Jakob, a year ago I thought I knew what I wanted—partnership, success, security. But I was measuring everything by other people's definitions."
"And now?"
"Now I measure success by waking up excited for the day ahead. By work that brings joy instead of stress. By love that makes me braver instead of smaller." I reach across the console to take his hand. "By choosing someone who sees my dreams as worth pursuing, not obstacles to overcome."
"I love your dreams," he says simply. "Almost as much as I love you."
That night, as we lie in bed planning our future—wedding details and business expansion and all the beautiful complications of building a shared life—I marvel at the journey that brought us here.
A forced vacation, a chance encounter in the woods, a decision to take a chance on something impossible.
"Thank you," I whisper against Jakob's chest as sleep claims me.
"For what?"
"For seeing me. For loving me. For convincing me that fairy tales can come true, even for practical marketing executives who don't believe in love at first sight."
"You convinced yourself," he corrects gently. "I just provided the inspiration."
As I drift toward sleep in the arms of the man I'm going to marry, surrounded by the mountains that have become home, I think about the woman who arrived in Silver Ridge a year ago.
She was successful, driven, seemingly self-sufficient.
But she was also tired, lonely, and slowly disappearing beneath the weight of other people's expectations.
The woman falling asleep as Lottie Smith for the last time—soon to be Lottie Lindstrom—is braver, happier, and more authentically herself than she's ever been. She took the biggest risk of her life and discovered that sometimes the most impractical choices lead to the most perfect outcomes.
In the morning, she'll wake up as an engaged woman in a mountain town she never planned to call home, preparing to marry an equipment operator she met by getting gloriously lost in the woods.
And she can't wait.