Epilogue
Josh
Istepped inside, chuckling at the sight of all the Crocs lined up by the door. The kids had given me my own pair for Christmas, but I still hadn’t fully adjusted.
“Josh is back,” Maggie yelled from the kitchen, where she was filling up a water bottle covered in horse stickers.
Muffled sounds floated down from upstairs. Then there were little feet running down the stairs.
“Hey, bud,” I said, greeting Julian, who held his fist out for me to bump. He wasn’t comfortable with hugs, so we’d worked out our greeting—a closed fist bump and a head nod.
“Are you coming with us to the fire?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Is it scary?”
“Not at all. The fire department just stacks up all the old Christmas trees.”
“Why?”
I hummed, considering how to justify the bonfire to his hyper logical brain. “Because it’s fun?” I suggested.
He thought about it, accepting my explanation. “Do I need my headphones?”
“Let’s pack them just in case.”
“Socks, Julian,” Celine said, walking into the kitchen. “Thick socks, please.”
He gave her an annoyed look and then headed back upstairs.
Celine reached up on her tiptoes to give me a kiss.
Officially, we’d been “taking it slow.” Unofficially, there were no plans for them to move back to the cottage and Ellie and I had plans to paint her room next weekend.
I’d made one teeny tiny joke about “living in sin” and suggested maybe I should propose. But Celine shut it down.
Translation: she wasn’t ready yet.
But I was.
Ready for all of it.
For everything.
I loved having them all in my house. We’d had so much fun at Christmas, baking cookies like I used to with my mom, cutting down a huge tree and decorating it in front of the fireplace.
The house hadn’t felt so alive in years, and I became more certain every day that I wanted this woman forever.
Julian had asked me once if I was going to marry his mom and become his dad.
Every time I thought about it, I got choked up.
Because there was nothing I wanted more.
I looked down at Celine, her red hair pulled back in a ponytail, her eyes gleaming. And I thought about dropping to one knee right then and there.
It was a frequent urge that I was getting better at controlling.
“How was school today?” I asked instead.
“Nutty. Doing a unit on volcanoes, and the kids got a little too excited about mixing baking soda and vinegar.”
I pulled her close and gave her ass a squeeze. “So that explains the smell.”
She hip checked me and rolled her eyes. “I showered, though I think the sweater I was wearing needs to be incinerated.”
“Are you gonna take me to practice this weekend?” Ellie asked, appearing in the doorway. She had recently started playing hockey again. The Maplewood peewee team was small and coed, but she was loving it. And I may have been forced into volunteering as an assistant coach.
“Course,” I replied. “You gonna work on your grip for that slap shot?”
She looked up and rolled her eyes. “Fine.”
“Find your fleece,” Celine said, giving her a look. “And make sure Julian’s got thick socks on.”
“Missed you today,” Celine said once Ellie had slunk off. I held my arm out, and she nestled up under it. “I’m worried.”
“Don’t be. It’s just a quick town meeting and then the bonfire. It will be fun.”
“People are so upset about that article.”
I sighed. The article. We thought WanderBetch was bad for the town, but she had nothing on the Boston Globe, who sent up a team of reporters and published a multi-part article titled “The Fall of America’s Most Charming Small Town.
” It made national news and set off a chain reaction.
The internet was flooded with social media posts shaming Maplewood, and people, many who had never even been here, had been giving quotes left and right.
Blaming all kinds of stuff on our “unsafe” town.
Nolan was under fire, led by all the conspiracy theories flying around social media and people were questioning why Gabe had hired him as police chief.
It was a mess. But we needed to put it behind us.
“Gabe has great instincts and he cares about the town. This meeting is a way to help people get things off their chests. The more transparent everything is, the better.”
“I guess. The rumors have been getting out of control.”
I rubbed her shoulders. “It’s going to be a fun night.” The Christmas tree bonfire had been a blast since I was a kid. “Once the meeting is over, everyone will come together. Nate is bringing kegs of the seasonal ale, and trust me, it will all blow over.”
“Okay. I trust you. But I don’t trust these kids to wear enough layers.”
It was a long-time town tradition. The second Saturday in January, the entire town brought their Christmas trees to town hall, and the firefighters had the time of their lives building them into a bonfire and then lighting it up.
People brought camping chairs, food, and drinks, turning it into an outdoor tailgate in the freezing cold. After surviving endless festivals, leaf peeper season and the holidays, it was nice to be involved with a more laid-back event that was just for the town and its citizens.
But first, we had a town meeting to get through.
While Celine headed inside with the kids, I headed toward Gabe, who was standing at the edge of the parking lot. He was wearing a thick wool coat instead of layers of down like the rest of us, and a dark green scarf. He looked thinner, paler and more jittery than usual.
“You look like you lost a bar fight.”
He was rocking several days of stubble and his hair was sticking up in all directions, like he’d been tugging on it.
As I got closer and noted the dark shadows under his eyes, my stomach sank. Shit. He was in worse shape than I’d realized.
“Really bad night,” he replied.
“You okay?”
He smoothed the toe of his boot over a mound of snow on the sidewalk. “Blind date gone very wrong.”
I almost laughed. “Blind date?” Gabe didn’t date much and certainly wasn’t one to allow friends to fix him up. I’d assumed his anguish was about town business.
“Never again. My mom is on my shit list for life. There were flying tacos.”
“Sorry, what?”
He shook his head. “And a flat tire.”
“Yours?”
He nodded. “Somehow, I found myself holding a jack in dress shoes trying to figure out when I’d lost the will to live.”
I clapped him on the shoulder. He and I had literally known each other our entire lives, and I’d never seen this kind of cynicism from him. My cousin was all business. Effective and friendly all the time.
“It’s gonna be okay, man,” I said. “People are worked up, but it’s a quick meeting. And then we can watch the fire and drink Nate’s new beer.”
Rather than perk up like I thought he would, he shook his head. “No. I have some really bad news. It’s only gonna get worse.”
Before I could ask, someone called his name.
“Better get in there,” Gabe said. “And face the firing squad.”
Inside Celine had found seats next to Jasper and Evie. The kids were in the basement doing arts and crafts with high school kids again while parents attended the meeting.
“Gabe looks upset,” Celine said. “I told you the pressure was getting to him.”
I put my arm around her, unease making my stomach roll.
Gabe stood behind the podium, staring out at the assembled town. The place was packed. There wasn’t an empty seat. Maplewood was a pretty engaged place, but this was an abnormally large crowd.
Before he could speak, Bitsy Bramble strode toward the center of the room. She pushed Gabe out of the way with shocking strength and gripped the microphone on the podium.
“This is a tragedy,” she exclaimed. “After hundreds of years, Maplewood has fallen.”
A gasp went through the crowd.
Gabe leaned in. “Now, Bitsy, let’s discuss everything.”
She threw a hand up to block him.
“The Maplewood Economic Development Committee received word today.” She drew a breath, like she was purposely keeping us all hanging. “The state has decided we are no longer a suitable location for the Vermont State Maple Festival.”
The room erupted into gasps and shouts.
Gabe pinched the bridge of his nose, his shoulders slumping.
“How could this happen?”
“It’s because we’re Murderville.” Someone shouted
“That’s what we get for trusting a child to run the town.” Another added.
Gabe managed to wrestle the microphone from Bitsy.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, his voice deep and serious. “Please settle down and allow me to explain.”
“The town is doomed,” someone shouted.
“We’re all going out of business,” another added dramatically.
“After thirty-eight years, the state has awarded the maple festival and all the attendant grants and support to another town.”
This was a disaster. Maplewood, Vermont, had been the official home of the Vermont State Maple Festival for generations.
Thousands came to town, including press.
Every person in this room depended on the income that festival brought in, and with only three months until that festival, everyone would be scrambling.
“Where is it being held?” Several people shouted.
“It doesn’t matter. The decision has been made. We need to focus on the future,” Gabe reasoned.
Bitsy stood next to him, arms crossed, her jeweled glasses on the bridge of her nose.
“Birch Hollow,” she shouted.
Those two words were like an arrow to the heart.
The shouting resumed. Half the crowd was standing and moving and panicking.
“How will we survive?”
“We should all move.”
“Can we sue?”
The panic made the walls feel like they were closing in on us. This wouldn’t hit the farm too hard; I sold most of my sap to Sugar Moon, and they shipped to stores all over North America. As a producer, I’d survive.
But the inn? Jenn’s coffee shop? All the restaurants and stores? The folks who owned rental properties? It would be catastrophic.
“As chair of the economic development committee, I want you to know we are not taking this lying down.” Bitsy pounded her fist on the podium. “We will not stand for this.”
The room quieted for a moment, all eyes on her.