Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
There is always something very surreal about being an adult and waking up in your childhood bedroom. It wasn’t like it was covered with posters from her teen years, those were long put away, but it was a feeling. A feeling of being safe from the world out there, beyond this town, safe from the realities of the world.
Lizzie turns on her side toward the window and can see that it’s starting to snow. She instinctively pulls up the covers and shivers. She then realizes that they’d been having such a mild stretch of weather she’d forgotten to bring any snow boots. Hopefully her mom hadn’t Marie Kondo-ed the hall closet in retirement and had some old ones in there to use.
She stretches, relishing not having any deadlines or anything she has to do. She can’t remember the last time that happened. She hears a scratch at the door, and a little whine.
“Come on in, Daisy,” she calls. The closest anyone had come to decoding what breeds Daisy could be was a veterinarian who’d been vacationing in Cranberry Harbor and spotted Gabby walking her on Main Street one afternoon. She’d told her that Daisy appeared to have Havanese and poodle in her. Whatever she was made of, she was the snuggliest dog Lizzie had ever met. She immediately jumped on to the bed and got right under the covers. Lizzie thought back to her conversation with Matt about her breaking up with Ed partly based on his disdain for dogs. Though clearly it had been a long time coming. “How could anyone not love you?” she asks Daisy, hugging her.
“How indeed,” Gabby says, coming into the room with a cup of hot coffee for Lizzie and placing it on the nightstand. She ruffles Daisy’s fur. “I see our living alarm clock found you. Sorry about that.”
“I was already awake, no worries.” She sits up and takes a sip of the coffee. “Mom, you are totally going to spoil me. How will I ever go back to the real world when you treat me like a princess?” She takes another sip and leans back. “Good morning, by the way. So what’s on the schedule for today? Do you need to bake eight thousand cookies for the festival or just four thousand?”
Gabby laughs. “I think it’s only twenty dozen, but that’s plenty.” She picks up Lizzie's clothes laying on the floor, “I’m going to head to Bradford’s to get some baking supplies pretty soon if you want to come with?”
“Did you just say ‘come with,’ Mom?” Lizzie laughs. “And you don’t have to pick up after me!”
“Hey, I keep up!” She drops the clothes in a pile on the floor. “Old habits die hard,” she says.
“I love it, and that you still don’t shop at the chain supermarkets,” Lizzie says, throwing back the covers.
“Never have, never will. I believe in shopping local, and Tim Bradford has been great about creating a whole section of organic items, and all the meat substitutes I keep slipping your dad without him knowing it.”
“You are a sneaky one,” Lizzie laughs. “Do I have time to take a quick shower first?”
“Of course, take your time.” She grabs Daisy to walk out and turns back. “I loved waking up this morning knowing you were here.”
Lizzie smiles at her mom. “Yeah, it made me feel good too. I’ve been running really hard in Boston, not always sure what I’m running for, or to. It feels nice to slow down for a minute and take a breath. Thanks for having me.”
“Having you? Honey, this is and always will be your home. You can come here and take a break anytime.”
“Thanks, Mom. I always know that, but I sometimes forget. It’s good to hear. I promise I’ll be right down!”
Lizzie pulls some jeans, a sweater, underwear and socks out of her suitcase and puts them on the unmade bed. She grabs an old terry cloth robe of her mom’s out of the closet and heads to the bathroom and starts the shower. Her mother, always the consummate hostess, has a new toothbrush, toothpaste and two big fluffy towels on the counter waiting for her. It’s been so long since she’s had anyone do anything for her, to be taken care of feels nice.
She steps into the shower and sighs as the hot water hits her. She sees her mother has also gotten the organic shampoo and conditioner she likes - in reusable containers, and the amazing lavender and oat soap from her friends, Lindsey and Jason’s farm. “You really went all in, Mom,” she smiles as she lathers up her hair.
Twenty minutes later she’s all dressed, hair still a little damp, standing in the kitchen. Gabby has assembled quite the baking workstation for them. Two standing mixers, a half-dozen cookie sheets, lots of wire racks and a Bluetooth speaker, “So we can listen to Christmas music while we bake!” she tells Lizzie.
Lizzie goes to the French doors in the kitchen, munching on a blueberry muffin from the plate Gabby left on the counter, and sees the snow beginning to accumulate on the deck. “So I didn’t remember to bring any snow boots, of course, weather ignorer that I am. Do you have any of my old boots around?”
Gabby stops building her assembly line and walks to the hall closet. “I’m sure there have to be some in here. What size do you wear?” She’s a bit muted with her head deep in the closet, on her knees trying to find something suitable. “Darn that ‘Tidying Up’ show! I always hate to part with things, but I got tired of asking myself if something ‘sparked joy’ and ended up donating a whole bunch of things. I’m sorry honey, I’ve got nothing. And your feet are a couple of sizes bigger than mine, so that won’t do.” She crawls out of the closet, stands up and smoothes out her hair and clothes. “How about after Bradford’s we run into the church thrift shop and see what they’ve got? When I brought a few things in last week I saw they had some boots. No need to spend a lot when you’ve got good ones at home. You know what they say - reduce, reuse and recycle!”
Lizzie laughs, “I’m so impressed Mom, You’re really doing your part. The thrift shop sounds perfect. I’ll just wear these shoes for now, it will be fine. I still can’t believe what a poor New Englander I am. Who travels in December without boots?” She slips her ballet flats on.
“We’re trying very hard in Cranberry Harbor to lead the way on the Cape, and in the state toward making the town carbon neutral by 2030,” Gabby says, circling back to the topic of environmental friendliness. “I’m on the committee that reports to the selectboard, and we’re really getting things done.”
“I’m so proud of you, Mom, that's awesome. And that’s how change happens, one person, one town at a time.”
They each put on their coats, hats and gloves and head to the garage. “Come on, Daisy, wanna go in the car?” Daisy, who'd been sound asleep under the kitchen table suddenly awakens and runs to catch up. “We can’t leave you behind, little one,” she says as she opens the car door for her. Daisy jumps right in and snuggles into her waiting bed and cozy blanket.
“That girl has quite the life, Mom,” Lizzie says and she gets in the car and fastens her seatbelt.
“Oh, you have no idea just how spoiled she is. But I love having her. She’s a lot of company. Your dad works so much, and well, I guess I’m still kind of adjusting to not working sixty or so hours a week.” She backs out of the garage. “I’m someone who needs someone or something to care for,” she says as they carefully drive into town.
“Really? I had no idea,” Lizzie teases. Her mother laughs as she glances at her daughter.
When it snows, there’s simply no way around it. Cranberry Harbor looks like a postcard. Mostly people come and visit in the summer, but Lizzie had often thought, before settling in Boston, that she’d just as soon spend her summers elsewhere, but the rest of the year right here. Until she got bitten by the city bug. Though lately that wasn’t feeling as wonderful. With so many of her colleagues either furloughed in shifts of a few weeks at a time, or laid off completely, the thrill of writing for a big city paper was fading.
Lizzie hadn’t been a journalism major; she’d double majored in business and English. She’d always loved to write, something she got from her dad for sure. As they drove carefully along the snowy streets and she looked out the window at this picture-perfect town, she felt that flip in her stomach again. Oh no, no way , she thought to herself, don’t you go being seduced by Christmas. This is still the place where almost all young people have fled because they can’t afford it, there aren’t any jobs, you can’t make a life here. Don’t go falling in love with a fantasy. That’s all this is, a Christmas fantasy. This is not real life.
They pull into Bradford’s and park right in front. Lizzie looks over to the side parking lot which is filled with snow covered Christmas trees for sale, and it couldn’t look any prettier or more perfect. Stop it, Cranberry Harbor and your seductive, magical powers. I will not fall in love with this place again, I will not. She and Jack had plans to eventually settle here, but those plans were long gone.
After repeating that affirmation to herself as she opens her door to get out of the car, Lizzie stands up, slips on some ice and falls right on her bottom, all thanks to her stupid, weather-inappropriate shoes.
More embarrassed than hurt, she scrambles to get up, still sliding around, when a hand appears to help her up. When she’s finally standing she turns to thank the good samaritan, who’s still holding her hand. It’s Jack. Again. She shakes her head, and thinks, Darn you Cranberry Harbor, stop messing with me.