Chapter Nineteen
The weather the next morning matched Caroline’s mood. The sky was gray, and the wind blew the snow sideways.
Caroline’s voicemail was empty and Max hadn’t sent any texts. She had been looking forward to the end of the evening and exploring Max’s body. Something had stopped her, and she didn’t know what.
Daphne knocked on the door. She was wearing a cable-knit sweater that had belonged to their mother, paired with jeans and short boots.
“Luke and I are going to meet the minister this morning, but I wanted to see you first.” Daphne glanced around the room. “That is, if I’m not interrupting anything.”
“Max didn’t spend the night.” Caroline turned off the coffeepot. “He left right after dessert.”
“You mean before…”
“We didn’t sleep together, we didn’t even get to second base,” Caroline sighed.
She told Daphne what happened. Max had accused her of not living her life.
Daphne poured sugar and cream into a cup. “He’s right. You promised you’d see how far this thing with Max would go, instead you’ve strangled it from the start.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Caroline huffed.
“You usually sleep with guys because there are no strings attached. This time, you were afraid that our dare would make you consider having a real relationship. So, you stopped it before it began.”
“I did nothing of the sort!” Caroline drank her coffee. It tasted strangely bitter, even when she added sugar.
“Max wouldn’t have left if you hadn’t encouraged him to leave,” Daphne said. “And he’s right about other things. Mom is dead, nothing you do can bring her back.”
“You miss her too. You’re wearing her sweater.”
“Because she had classic taste and we’re the same size,” Daphne replied. “I might make mistakes with Luke and even with my career. But at least I’m trying to move forward. I don’t even know why you’re trying to find out more about Mom’s lover.”
Caroline gasped. Anne’s lover was the whole reason she was in Aspen.
“I hate the idea of him waiting at Santa’s Little Red Mailbox and not knowing why Mom didn’t show up,” Daphne continued before Caroline could answer. “But it doesn’t matter where he’s from or what his taste is in books. Mom is dead, they’ll never be together.”
Caroline wanted to say that Daphne didn’t know what it was like to be the older sister. To always worry about Daphne. When they were young, Caroline comforted Daphne when she had nightmares and couldn’t fall back to sleep. She lent her money for her first apartment and answered her texts no matter what the time was, because she wanted Daphne to be able to count on her.
“Just because I like Max doesn’t mean we have to move so fast.”
“The dare is off. I have to go and meet Luke.” Daphne walked to the door and turned around. Her blue eyes were fierce. “At least I can save money on a bridal bouquet. I don’t have anyone to toss it to.”
After Daphne left, Caroline finished her coffee and stared at the snow falling outside the window. She still didn’t know what stopped her from going further with Max. Usually slipping into bed with a man was the most natural thing in the world. Even her mother would have approved. Caroline was a mature adult, and love affairs with sexy men were part of the tapestry of life.
She texted Nick and suggested they meet before his shift. Then she grabbed a jacket and walked to the Limelight Hotel. Right now, she might be a disaster at dating, and a lousy sister, but she was good at her job.
Nick was polishing silver in the banquet room.
“My shift doesn’t start yet, but I think better when my hands are busy,” Nick said when he saw her.
Caroline nodded knowingly. “One of my authors loves to vacuum, and another’s favorite thing is ironing. Her husband loves it, he always goes to work with pressed shirts and slacks.”
Caroline settled into the supply-room office and Nick brought in two cups of coffee.
“No, thank you.” Caroline shook her head. “For me, coffee is usually a magic potion, but today it gave me a headache.”
Nick studied her more closely. “Is something wrong?”
“Nothing that getting lost in your manuscript won’t cure.” Caroline tried to smile. “We need to work on Josh’s feelings. For instance, when Maggie decides to stay in Colorado, Josh is the one who pulls back.”
Nick opened his computer.
“I don’t know where that came from. I was so sure that Josh would be ecstatic that Maggie decided to stay. Every time I tried to change the scene, it came out the same way.”
“Characters often take over a story. Tell me more about you and Savannah. How did you feel after Elliot left?”
Nick ran his hands through his hair.
“I didn’t see Savannah until two days later. She had the weekend off and went to Denver to go shopping. It was after dinner and I knocked on her door. She was arranging her purchases on the bed, work shirts and pairs of riding boots. She had decided to stay for the whole summer.
“I reminded her that she was spending two weeks at Elliot’s parents’ house in Cape Cod, but she told me the trip was off. Elliot had broken up with her. Oddly, instead of being thrilled, I had a choking feeling. I was in love with Savannah but I wasn’t like Elliot. I wasn’t ready to propose.
“I left so that Savannah could take a bath. We met again an hour later for a stroll around the ranch. It was a beautiful summer night. The moon was full and stars twinkled in the sky. The horses rustled in the stables, and a few guests sat on the porch, watching the fireflies.
“Savannah said she’d decided to stay through the fall. She liked the ranch. The work was easy and the guests were so happy.
“I stopped walking. Savannah looked particularly beautiful. She wore a floral sweater and a long, flowing skirt. I told her she’d miss a semester but she said she could make it up. The aspen trees were so pretty in the fall, and there was a three-day trek that was supposed to be gorgeous at that time of year.
“Colorado is stunning in the autumn. The waterfalls are a green-blue and the leaves on the trees are burnt orange. I announced I was going back to school and she said I should stay too. If I didn’t have papers to write, I could start the novel I was always talking about.
“I argued that I had to graduate. Without a degree, I might get stuck on the ranch forever.
“Savannah looked at me with those large, liquid eyes. Her mouth that I loved to kiss—turned down at the corners. She reminded me that all I wanted was to be together and write. Before I could say anything else she stalked off.
“The next day, she avoided me. She switched to another riding group and didn’t come down for dinner. I did the dishes and knocked on her door. She was sitting on her bed with a towel wrapped around her head. I handed her a slim volume. It was one of my favorite books, James Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room. It’s set in Paris in the 1950s. James Baldwin moved to Paris when he was twenty-four to write his first novel. She pointed to the stack of books on her bedside table and said she might not get to it for a few months. I told her to take as long as she liked. I wasn’t going anywhere without her. Then she leaned forward and kissed me. I kissed her back, and a new energy surged through my body.
“I was confident it would all work out. We’d stay together and I’d write a bestseller.”
Nick stopped talking. He glanced at Caroline as if he suddenly remembered that she was there.
“Savannah became my muse. I had to prove to myself that I could write a novel.” He pondered. “The first fifty pages poured out. Then she left and I stopped writing.”
“In the beginning, you were afraid of how much she meant to you so you pulled back,” Caroline said. “Josh feels the same when Maggie decides to stay in Colorado and keep working at the pharmacy.”
Nick made some notes on the computer. He beamed at Caroline. “That’s why I couldn’t change the scene.”
Caroline nodded. She thought about her night with Max. “Even when two people are attracted to each other, they often move at different speeds.”
They revised another chapter and Caroline walked back toward the Aspen Inn. The snow had stopped falling but the clouds were still low in the sky. She watched skiers skim down the slopes and children on rubber tubes spin on damp powder.
She was reminded of the semester in college that she had planned to spend studying abroad. She and her roommate were going to share an apartment in Madrid. But the roommate broke her leg and couldn’t go.
Caroline had been anxiously studying the brochures when her mother tapped on her door.
Anne set a shopping bag down on Caroline’s desk.
“I bought you some clothes for Spain. It’s going to be muggy when you arrive, you’ll need light, cotton dresses.”
The dresses were beautiful. Bright summery colors with rich embroidery.
“I’m not going to Spain,” Caroline said.
“What do you mean you’re not going? You’ve been planning it for months.”
Madrid had an active literary scene, and they were going to make side trips to London and Rome. Caroline had never been to Europe without her mother and Daphne and Walter. How would she navigate a foreign country alone?
“My writing professor is teaching one of my favorite seminars this semester and I don’t want to miss it.” Caroline told a small white lie. “Besides, the program in Madrid runs through Christmas. We always spend Christmas as a family at the cabin.”
Anne smoothed one of the new dresses so that it made a fan on the bed. She looked at Caroline pensively.
“Do you still want to be a book editor after college?”
“Of course.” Caroline nodded. “I already know which publishing houses I want to apply to when I graduate.”
“How are you going to edit authors with different worldviews if you don’t see the world yourself?”
“I could go to Europe next summer. You and Daphne can come with me.”
“Daphne is always busy and I’ve been asked to speak at conferences.” Anne squeezed Caroline’s hand. “Go now. The cabin will be here next Christmas, but you may never get this chance again.”
The first month in Madrid, Caroline was lonelier than she’d ever been. All she wanted was to go home. Then she attended a literary event and met a brilliant young writer named Carmen. Carmen’s family took Caroline into her home and shared their culture. Carmen’s manuscript was the first novel Caroline acquired a few years later. It was translated into six languages and reviewed by The New York Times.
Anne lived her life fearlessly. Caroline had listened to her advice and tried to do the same. Except when it came to love. Love was precarious, and she didn’t want to get her heart broken.
The lights on the Christmas tree came on. Main Street twinkled like a scene from a movie set.
That was why she didn’t want to go further with Max when he was kissing her. She was falling in love with him.
She was about to go back to her room, but instead she turned around. She had to tell Max her feelings before it was too late. Her mother was right: she might never get the chance again.