Chapter Twenty
Max’s mother, Pamela, answered the door of the Queen Anne mansion on Walnut Street. Caroline hadn’t seen Pamela since the open house. Pamela was elegantly dressed in a beige sweater and wool skirt.
Caroline sat in the living room while Pamela went to bring them some tea. She was reminded of the beauty of Max’s parents’ house. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and the velvet drapes were pulled back to reveal the snow-covered garden.
Pamela reappeared. “In the spring, my garden has bluebells and primroses,” she said. “Aspen at Christmas is spectacular. But spring and summer are my favorite times of year.”
Caroline was about to say that her mother had adored Aspen during the summer. But she wasn’t here to talk about Anne.
Pamela kept talking. “I don’t usually dress up during the day. I have a meeting for next year’s writers’ conference.” She handed Caroline a teacup. “You should be on a panel, I can put in a word.”
Caroline accepted the tea. “Thank you, that’s very kind. I was wondering if Max was home.”
“Max took Lily sledding.” Pamela gave a small smile. “Lily is one of those children who has to keep moving. Tonight, we’re going to make cake pops to serve at my New Year’s Eve party.” She sipped her tea. “You should come to the party. It’s great fun. I pull out our winery’s best champagne, and everyone gets tipsy.”
Caroline shifted on the sofa. “I don’t know what Max would say,” she said cautiously.
“Ahh, I thought there was something going on. Max came home acting like a bear who had been woken from hibernation.”
Caroline didn’t want to admit her feelings for Max to Pamela. She’d only met her once.
“It’s nothing, Max and I just met.” She waved her hand.
“I told you that Max rarely brings girls to my Christmas open house,” Pamela reflected. “And he’s been so happy the last few days. Like he used to be in Santa Barbara.” Pamela set down her teacup. “I would never say anything to Max, my first rule is not to intrude in my children’s love lives. But all relationships are tricky. When Max’s father, Robert, and I got married, we were madly in love. Now, we’ve almost gotten divorced three times. The last time was so bad, I called an attorney. The minute the attorney’s secretary answered, I put down the phone. I believe in marriage.”
“What happened?” Caroline asked.
“The first time was the usual. Robert spent all his time at the winery, while I was stuck at home raising two small children. Neither of us understood how hard the other worked and we stopped communicating.” She gave a little laugh. “All it took was a few weekend getaways and we were fine. The second time was more complicated, that’s why they call it the seven-year itch. The last time was about Max. Robert and Max still aren’t comfortable together, that’s why Robert isn’t here.”
Max’s father blamed Max for Jessica drinking half a dozen of his private reserve bottles of wine.
“Robert threatened to fire Max from the winery, and they got into a terrible fight,” Pamela recalled. “They were never close. My husband is all about profit and Max has a gentler streak. He wants the distillery to be a success because he wants to show that a business can flourish and protect the environment at the same time.”
“I admire that about him,” Caroline said before she could stop herself.
Pamela studied Caroline curiously.
“Whatever is going on between you and Max seems real.” She nursed her teacup. “Don’t let it go. Love causes pain, but it’s the best part of life.”
They chatted for a while and then Caroline went back to the Aspen Inn. She longed to talk to Daphne, but Daphne was furious with her. These were the times when Caroline missed her mother the most. She pictured Anne sitting in the library of the town house in Manhattan. A pile of advance copies would be arranged on the coffee table, Anne would be having a predinner cocktail. They’d discuss the latest New York Times bestseller and Caroline would forget about men.
Caroline entered her hotel room and sank on the bed. There was an email from Nick thanking her for her suggestions. She had to find a way to distract herself. She picked up Nina’s next letter and began to read.
Dear Anne,
Well, Christmas is over and New York is preparing for New Year’s Eve. If I’m too old for Christmas, I’m much too old for New Year’s Eve. All those crowds shivering in Times Square and waiting for the ball to drop. And it’s so commercialized these days. In the 1970s, CBS covered the drop and Guy Lombardo’s orchestra played “Auld Lang Syne,” and that was it. Now NBC has a full day of programming. People must get so tired of watching, they turn off the television before the countdown.
It’s still a wonderful time of year. I’ve always loved the week between Christmas and New Year’s. Most offices are closed and the newspapers are filled with happy Christmas stories.
The week in Vermont was the exception. I thought it would be relaxing. I even imagined doing some writing while the contest winner pottered around the farm and Teddy snoozed in front of the fireplace. It turned out the opposite. James wasn’t some housewife who delighted in trading chocolate chip cookie recipes for learning how to milk a cow. And Teddy had more energy than he ever displayed in New York. All he wanted was to stir up trouble and he was good at it. On the fourth day, everything began to go downhill.
I woke up with a crick in my neck and the worst kind of hangover. What did I expect? Teddy was right, the sofa was lumpy. I didn’t bring my sleeping pills, so I drank three shots of peach brandy to fall asleep. Whoever invented peach brandy should be led straight to the guillotine. It tastes as bad as it sounds.
When I finally staggered into the kitchen, James was preparing pancakes and Teddy was sitting at the table, with a piece of paper in front of him and a pencil behind his ear.
“If James wasn’t a doctor, we could hire him as our chef after we’re married,” Teddy said happily. “These are the best pancakes I’ve ever tasted.”
“Barbara’s Pies expanded to include other products years ago,” James said, sliding a stack of pancakes onto another plate.
I wasn’t hungry but I ate a pancake. Listening to myself chew was easier than hearing Teddy’s peppy tone.
“The wedding is in four days.” Teddy consulted his notes. “I’ve made a list. If we work as a team, we can get everything done in time.”
“What’s there to do? We’ll stand in front of the fireplace and exchange rings,” I said.
Teddy looked at me as if I were Custer at the Little Bighorn and had just suggested going into battle wearing our pajamas and carrying toothbrushes instead of rifles.
“Do you think I’d let my bride get married without some fanfare?” he remarked indignantly. “I’m going to drive to Burlington to buy the rings. I wanted platinum, it lasts longer. But I called and all they have is gold.”
I stopped myself from rolling my eyes. As if this marriage had to last. I’d get it annulled as soon as we went back to New York.
“Then there are the flowers,” Teddy continued. “The flower shop in town is closed during Christmas week. I called one of the neighbors and she told me about a friend who makes dried flower arrangements. I’m going to go there and pick them up.”
“How did you know a neighbor’s phone number?” I asked before I could stop myself. If I was really Laura Carter, I’d have an address book with the numbers of my neighbors, like I had in New York.
“I helped myself to your address book,” Teddy said without missing a beat. “Between the flowers and the rings, I’ll be busy all day and I’ll need the car. So, I thought James could help you pick out the wedding dress.”
There was a pitcher of orange juice on the table. If only I had a bottle of vodka. I would have drunk orange juice and vodka until all this wedding talk was over.
“James is the witness, not the maid of honor,” I protested. “Besides, we’re hardly going to find an open wedding shop during Christmas week.”
“That’s the amazing thing.” Teddy beamed. “The neighbor told me about a wedding dress boutique in Stowe that’s open. Apparently, the owner is French and imports the latest styles. And I can’t think of anyone who’d be better at helping you than James.”
This is where Teddy’s conniving really came to the forefront.
“I did a little research at the town library on Barbara’s Pies. James is being modest, his mother is as well known in fashion circles as she is for running the company. She’s attended the fashion shows in Paris for years and she used to take James when he was a child.”
I looked at James in surprise.
“My father doesn’t like to travel, so she took me instead,” James said. “I’d be happy to help you pick out a wedding dress.”
Teddy scribbled on his list. He handed me a piece of paper.
“It’s settled then. Here’s the name and address of the wedding dress salon. Stowe is a forty-minute drive so you should leave after breakfast. It’s supposed to snow later today.”
I couldn’t figure out what Teddy was doing, but I was sure he was up to no good. I had no choice but to follow his directions.
I was going to have a white wedding after all.
James and I hardly spoke on the way to Stowe. It had snowed overnight, and the scenery was spectacular. Fields covered in snow, sugar maple trees with snow-covered branches, and as we approached Stowe, Mount Mansfield, alive with skiers.
Even in the 1970s, Stowe was posher than other towns in Vermont. It attracted a European crowd, and the main street was filled with French clothing stores like Courrèges and Pierre Cardin.
The wedding shop was called Madame Eloise and it had plate-glass windows. Inside, it was modern and elegant at the same time. White wool carpet, glass cabinets filled with bridal accessories: triple-strand pearl chokers, a blue Wedgwood brooch, shoes so delicate they appeared to be made of spun sugar.
A woman in her mid-forties approached us. She glanced from me to James.
“Welcome, I am Madame Eloise. We don’t often have a bride shopping for a dress with the groom.”
My cheeks turned the color of Madame Eloise’s lipstick. I explained that James wasn’t the groom.
“A relative then?”
James stepped forward and shook her hand.
“James Stanley, a close friend.” He gave a cheeky grin. “I’m here to make sure that Laura is the most beautiful bride in Vermont.”
Madame Eloise brought out three dresses, each more sophisticated than the last.
I never had much interest in clothes, but I did live in New York. I had browsed through the sales racks at Bloomingdale’s. So, I couldn’t help falling in love with each dress. A knee-length white silk with a velvet cape. A pale pink sheath, slit up the side. And my favorite: an ivory satin gown with long bell sleeves and a sash waist.
Madame Eloise agreed with my selection, and James handed her his credit card.
“What are you doing?” I asked in alarm.
“The bride can’t pay for her own wedding dress,” he said easily. “Teddy will pay me back.”
The sale was complete before I could argue. The mood felt different when we walked out. I had an inkling of what Teddy was up to.
Standing in front of the three-way mirrors, with Madame Eloise fussing over me, I had felt like a bride. It was the most wonderful feeling. Like standing on a mountaintop, and feeling that your whole life was ahead of you.
Something felt different between James and me too. He had seen a softer side of me. And I know that I looked beautiful in that dress. My waist was small and my legs seemed even longer.
He suggested we have lunch before we went back to the farm and I agreed.
We sat in a trendy après-ski restaurant and shared a cheeseburger and steak fries.
“You should include photos of your wedding in an upcoming column,” James suggested. “I can take them, I’m a good photographer.”
I almost choked on my french fry. What would happen if wedding photos of Nina Buckley and Teddy Chandler III appeared in Laura Carter’s column?
“That’s not a good idea. Readers form their own pictures of Laura’s fiancé in their head. Teddy might not live up to their expectations.”
James ate a bite of the burger. “You talk like Laura is a different person.”
Where is the vodka bottle when a girl needs one!
“Sometimes she feels like another person.” I gave a little laugh. “That’s what comes from writing about myself for a living.”
Somehow, I had to change the subject. I asked him about Rhonda in Geneva.
“Actually, we broke up last night. I called her after I went to bed and she admitted she met someone. I had a sense it was coming, we’ve been apart for so long.”
I made a noncommittal noise and concentrated on the burger.
“It made me think about marriage. Are you sure you and Teddy are ready?”
“Of course we’re ready, we’ve been engaged for almost two years,” I blurted out.
“That’s funny, I read some of your columns.” James frowned. “Teddy did that surprise engagement in the snow cave last month.”
I had forgotten about the snow cave! Margaret should have sent me to the farm with a page of notes.
“The engagement was unofficial for a long time, but we both knew we found the right one.”
“Sometimes you don’t seem sure, and you don’t sleep together,” James prodded. “You’ve been sleeping on the couch.”
“Teddy snores. It’s worse in the wintertime.”
“I’d never sleep apart from the woman I love,” James said. “And he could treat you better. He bosses you around.”
That one hit home. No one bossed Nina Buckley around.
“Teddy doesn’t mean any of it. He’s really very sweet, he doesn’t show that side of him in public.”
When I looked up at James, he was gazing at me. He really was handsome. Rhonda didn’t realize what she was giving up.
“You’re one of the most beautiful, intelligent women I’ve ever met,” James said. There was something odd in his voice. “If you were my fiancée, I’d wait on you hand and foot.”
Before I could respond, James leaned forward and kissed me. His mouth was warm and tasted of ketchup. For one crazy moment I kissed him back. Then we pulled apart.
Thankfully we were in a booth in the back, and no one saw us. But what was I thinking! The last thing I needed was to get involved with James. He didn’t even know who I really was.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” James apologized.
“It wasn’t anything. You’re upset about Rhonda.”
“I wish that was the case but you’re wrong,” James sighed. “I’ve felt something for you since I arrived at the farm. You remind me of my mother and my grandmother—a career woman who is softer than she seems. Most men don’t understand women like that, but I do. They’re so capable, but they still want a man to take care of them.”
I thought about James’s words. Women at that time wanted to do everything for themselves. But James had a point. I wanted Teddy to treat me like men treated Gwendolyn Arthur. Someone to cherish and adore.
“I’m engaged,” I reminded James. “Teddy and I are getting married on New Year’s Eve.”
James pushed away his plate.
“I’m your guest and I’ve only stirred up trouble,” he said worriedly. “Should I tell Teddy what happened or will you?”
The last thing I had thought about was telling Teddy! But it didn’t matter. The marriage would be annulled soon.
“You can tell him.” I shrugged. “He’ll understand it better coming from you.”
That’s when I understood Teddy’s game. He suspected that James had a crush on me. And he wanted to prove that anyone could make a mistake in a relationship. He wasn’t to blame for what happened between him and Gwendolyn.
But you see, Anne, Teddy wasn’t the only clever one. I came up with a plan to pay him back.
Suddenly I was looking forward to the wedding. It was going to be the most memorable New Year’s Eve I’d had in years.
Hugs and kisses,
Nina
Caroline set the paper down on the stack. Tomorrow, she’d ask the concierge if she could scan Nina’s letters and email them to herself. They were so full of wisdom, she didn’t want to risk losing the paper copies.
Right now, all she could think of was Max.
She thought about her mother and her lover the previous summer. Had they told each other how they felt? Perhaps Anne’s lover only confessed his feelings in the letter from Santa’s Little Red Mailbox and she had never known. Or he had said he was in love with her and Anne was too unsure about her future to respond?
Caroline had to tell Max how she felt about him. But what if she had already hurt him too much?
Outside, the clouds had cleared and it was a bright winter day. Christmas was the time for miracles. There had to be one saved for her.