Chapter 37
Mia
It’s apple and pumpkin season in Vermont, that time when farms throw open their gates and invite you to wander through neat rows of trees, filling bags and wagons with fruit until your arms ache.
Pumpkins glow in every shade of orange, corn mazes twist and turn, and little festivals in Montpelier and Stowe celebrate everything beautiful about fall in the Green Mountains.
The hills around Burlington are ablaze in red, amber, and fiery orange. Leaves drift down like confetti as Katya and I drive to the pumpkin patch.
Since Anya passed, Katya’s been caught in a kind of stasis, so on weekends I coax her out of the house.
Today, I’m taking her to Applecrest Hollow—a name straight out of one of the storybooks I read to my school kids.
Katya and I have been coming here since we were in kindergarten, and I’m hoping it will spark memories for her, the kind that warm rather than wound. That’s how I coped after losing my parents—by clinging to the happy moments. Sometimes, they’re the best defense against grief.
We’re wrapped in coats, with knit hats tugged low over our ears. It might be a sunny day, but the air is crisp.
Winter is coming.
“I forgot how beautiful fall is here,” she murmurs, looking around. “Like the trees are trying to give us one last miracle before everything sleeps.”
I squeeze her hand. “She would’ve loved this day.”
“She would’ve told us to buy too many pumpkins.” A small laugh escapes her. “And she would’ve shamelessly tried to fix me up with the cider guy.”
We walk into the patch, and it’s like entering a memory you don’t know you’re about to cherish.
The place smells of hot cider, cinnamon, and hay.
Children are everywhere, running between rows of fat pumpkins, and climbing on hay bales shaped like dragons.
Couples take selfies holding lopsided pumpkins.
A scarecrow leans lazily against a maple tree.
We get cups of warm cider, and stroll toward the cornstalk archway framing the main field.
“There’s something about apple cider.” I take a long sip. “It warms you from the inside.”
Katya bobs her head in agreement. “It’s a panacea.”
Two kids, one in a bee costume and another dressed like a sunflower, tumble past us, their parents chasing them.
“Where’s Aiden today?” Katya muses.
“I think he and Hux had plans to go hiking. Why?”
She shrugs and then smiles at me. “He’s around a lot.”
I narrow my eyes and wait for her to finish saying what she’s thinking.
She gives me a look full of unfiltered delight. “When are you moving back in with him?”
I arch a brow, amused, because it’s so good to see Katya getting some of the color back in her life. “When? Not if?”
She rolls her eyes. “Puhlease.”
I lift a shoulder and let it drop. “Ah…I don’t know when.” I’ve been ready to move back home with Aiden for a while, but after Anya passed, I didn’t want to leave Katya alone. He understands. He doesn’t like it, though.
We walk for a while and finish our cider, dropping the cups into orange-painted trash bins.
“People come from all over to see the fall colors in Vermont, and we just have them,” she says dreamily, gazing at the hills. She turns to face me, and there’s a softness to her face. She grips my hand. “You helped me get through the worst part of losing Mama. Thank you.”
I shake my head, squeezing her hand. “We don’t say thank you between us.”
She chuckles. “I know, but I need to say thank you as a way of kicking you out of my house.”
I blink against the sudden sting in my eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, Mia, I am. The dementia took her away from us bit by bit, but at least she was still there. Now, she’s gone and I need to figure out what this life looks like without her.”
I lick my lips, tasting the remnants of the cider. “I…it doesn’t feel right. Maybe in a—"
She growls, cutting me off, the wind catching strands of her hair. “Go. Live. Let yourself be happy.”
Before I can respond, a familiar voice calls my name.
“Mia?”
“Oh no,” I mutter when I see Betty, wearing oversized sunglasses, and an expensive wool wrap the color of autumn leaves.
Betty smiles at me. “How are you?”
I eye my former and future sister-in-law suspiciously. “Fine.”
She gives an awkward little smile, clears her throat. “It’s been so long since we saw you.”
She hasn’t seen me since Christmas Eve.
“Uh huh.”
She gives me a wan smile. “Look, I know I’ve been awful to you. But—"
“Lady, what’s your play here?” Katya demands, stepping slightly in front of me, like she’s ready to block whatever Betty might throw my way—literally.
Betty blinks at the hostility, shaking her head. “I…I just wanted to say hello.”
“You’re a Winter. We don’t trust your kind,” Katya says flatly.
“Not going to be a Winter for long.” There’s a flicker of something broken in her eyes.
“No way.” The words slip out before I can stop them. I honestly never thought she’d leave Tristan.
She exhales, hard. “A month ago, I found out I have—” her voice drops—“gonorrhea.”
A surprised chuckle escapes both Katya and me. There’s just something about this most elegant woman saying gonorrhea.
“He’s been screwing around, bringing diseases home.” She lets out a bitter laugh.
I bite my tongue to keep from telling her I’m not shocked, and neither should she be. Tristan’s been cheating for years.
“You did me a favor by telling the family at Christmas about him and Lulu.”
“Favor?” Katya gives me a teasing look.
“Yes,” Betty insists, apparently immune to sarcasm.
Last Christmas Eve was a shitshow. I did no one any favors—except maybe myself.
“Anyway, after I got rid of Lulu, he promised he wouldn’t stray. Then he did. So…it’s over.”
I’m not convinced. People like Betty—and Edith—prefer the status quo, no matter how humiliating, until…maybe reality forces them otherwise? And it’s probably hard to ignore reality when you’re on antibiotics for an STI your husband gave you.
“Well, I wish you the best.” Then, because I can’t help myself, I lean in close. “Do you have a good divorce lawyer? Because my friend here—”
“—is so busy she can’t take new clients,” Katya cuts in, yanking me back by my coat.
Betty blinks in confusion. “What?”
I sigh. “You have a divorce lawyer, don’t you, Betty?”
She licks her lips, shaking her head quickly. “I’m going to talk to one…soon.”
Right. She’s not getting divorced. Ever.
“And have you heard about Gianna?” Betty’s in gossip mode now.
“No.” And because I actually do want to know what’s happening with that awful woman, I indulge her and myself.
“She’s filing for bankruptcy.” Betty lowers her voice, like she’s sharing state secrets. “Nelson said he won’t help her. Neither will Tristan. I mean, Patrick owes some not-nice people over a hundred thousand dollars.”
“Wow.” Katya and I say it in unison.
“Auntie Mia!” Carla’s sweet voice breaks in, and she’s running toward me.
I crouch to hug her. “Hey, little angel, how are you?”
“I got a bee on my face.” She turns her cheek so I can see the painted black-and-yellow bee.
“Oh, that is so cool.”
“Carla, you can’t just run away like that.” A burly woman gripping Nelson Jr.’s hand approaches.
Nelson Jr. drops her hand and runs to me, too. I hug him, and he proudly shows me the spider painted on his face.
Betty exhales sharply. “Heidi, I told you to hold their hands always.”
The new nanny just grunts. Her primary qualification, I guess, is that she’s not twenty-something and hot.
“Anyway, Mia, it was so nice to see you.” Betty waves to her children. “Come on, kids, say bye to Auntie Mia.”
I kiss them and they leave, Heidi holding their hands.
Katya wrinkles her nose. “That woman is so vapid…I don’t even have the words.”
“I think the words you’re looking for are blonde and floozy.”
Katya huffs out a laugh. “Or ditzy blonde.”
“Or…someone who’s not getting divorced.”
“And what was that about offering my services to her?” Katya accuses. “I can’t stand that whole family.”
“I was just jerking your chain.” I tuck my arm through hers. “You know I can’t stand them, either. And this time, I don’t have to.”
“Well, after you kneed Papa Winter in the balls, I think they struck you off the Christmas card list.”
I laugh, still a little mortified about that. “I can only hope.”