Epilogue
THE TENTH CHRISTMAS
“I’ve never seen so much snow in my life,” Aunt Charlotte said, thrusting a bottle of wine into Emmy’s hand as she walked into Emmy and Charlie’s Wyoming home. Her aunt spun around. “This house is gorgeous!”
Emmy patted her protruding belly. “Well, we had to have a bigger space with the baby coming.” She kissed Charlotte on the cheek.
Aunt Elsie, Uncle Stephen, and Uncle Brian entered with Jack. Charlie clapped both of her uncles and her brother-in-law on the back, in turn, and took them into the family room, where he put the game on their big-screen television.
Emmy’s dad and Madison were the last ones to enter the house.
Emmy took them down the hardwood, two-story hallway and into the airy family room.
Her western-style Christmas tree glittered in the corner, next to a stone fireplace that stretched up to the wooden beams in the vaulted ceiling. The mantle was draped in fresh pine.
“Tell me all about your new shop,” Madison said over the announcers’ chatter of the TV, sitting down on the leather sofa and snagging a Christmas cookie from the platter on the table.
“It’s downtown next to an art gallery. I couldn’t believe I snagged the space. We got wind that the previous owner was waffling on keeping the building, so I put in an offer. He took it, and I’ve never looked back.”
Her designs had become so popular that she’d expanded into her own shop: EB Prairie & Pine. It was the place in town for high-end, nature-inspired casual clothing.
She set the bottle of wine on the table next to the snacks she’d prepared. “I’ll have seven new clothing lines this year and the ski resort up the mountain is going to carry my EB Outerwear puffer jackets.”
“Should you still call it EB now that you’re Mrs. Russell? Shouldn’t it be ER?”
“I think the emergency room has the market on that one,” Emmy said with a laugh. “Plus, the initials will still stand when our daughter is born. We’re naming her Emily Blake Russell.”
Elsie threw her hand to her heart the way she often did. “That’s beautiful, Emmy.”
“Thank you.”
“Oh, show me your sewing room,” Madison said.
“Yes,” Aunt Charlotte agreed.
“Okay, follow me.”
Emmy led them to the back of the house. She opened two windowed doors, revealing a rustic wooden counter that ran the length of the room.
“That wood was part of a 1900s homestead log cabin. We repurposed it.”
In the center of the counter sat her mother’s sewing machine. And on mannequins lining the room were her mother’s dress from Baudelaire’s and Emmy’s designs throughout the years, from her first garment that she’d worn to meet Mitch, to the western-styled outfits she currently sold in her boutique.
“What’s this?” Her sister went over to a red formal gown.
“That’s a special project,” Emmy said. “Baudelaire’s wanted me to design a gown for the opening of their newest boutique in Paris. Once Emily is born, Charlie and I are going to take her to see it on display.”
“That’s incredible,” Aunt Elsie said. “Your mother would be so proud.”
“I feel close to her in Paris,” Emmy said. “Charlie and I go every year. I think when we travel to see the dress, we’ll go at Christmas time.” A lot had happened since that first Christmas she’d met Charlie. It was as if her mom had been with her all along, guiding her.
“How romantic,” Madison said as she walked the wall of frames where Emmy had taken apart her mom’s scrapbook and made a collage of the pages behind museum-grade glass.
“Mom was the original artist,” Emmy said.
“How inspiring it must be to work here,” Charlotte said.
“It’s pretty amazing.” Emmy put her arm around her sister. “Let’s all go see what the guys are up to.”
They joined the men back in the family room. Charlie had added logs to the fire. The snow fell outside, covering everything in a blanket of white. Emmy looked around and took a moment to appreciate what she had.
She had the best of both worlds: the love of her life and the blessings that came with her success. She couldn’t believe that she hadn’t had to give up either. She’d found a way to make her talent her own, and she’d honored her mother’s journey along the way.
As she stood there with her family, something occurred to her.
“This is the tenth Christmas since Charlie first came over all those years ago,” she said aloud. “Charlie, you were right. The first Christmas we were together, he said, ‘Maybe this Christmas—your tenth Christmas—is the start of something great. Good things come in tens.’”
“Thank God it didn’t take me ten Christmases to get you here.” He put his hand on her belly and pressed his lips to hers. Then he kissed her hand.
“I could never spend ten Christmases without you.” She pushed herself up on her tiptoes and gave him another kiss.