Chapter 3
“They forgot your suitcase?”
I nod at Emi in the car’s rear-view mirror.
We’re now driving out of the airport and into Quebec City, and I’m trying not to be upset—or at least not too upset that it shows.
To be fair, the lady at the front desk was also really, really apologetic about it, and Nicolas tried hard to find a solution.
We went over every possible option before it became obvious there was just no point in trying to get my suitcase on another flight; we’ll be back in Boston before it makes it anywhere.
Plus, we were already running late, and I felt bad making Emi and Solange wait… I’ll see it when we get back, I guess.
But, truthfully, I am a bit upset. I had everything for our trip in my suitcase—not just my toiletries, but all of my clothes, my gifts for Nicolas’s family, the pretty dress I was so looking forward to wearing tonight, some gifts for my family, the cute Christmas jumper to match my siblings tomorrow, and even the surprise I got for Nicolas!
“It’s alright,” Nicolas says, comfortingly rubbing my thigh while his eyes stay on the road.
“At least it’s not lost. We know they’ll keep it safely stored away at Logan Airport, and we’ll get it as soon as we get back.
And we can buy the necessities for two days, and you still have your essential belongings. ”
“I know,” I sniff, “but we’re already very late for that Christmas dinner, and now I’m coming empty-handed on top of that! And I really wanted to wear my new dress to the restaurant… I don’t have anything to wear for tonight!”
I cannot believe I really have nothing to wear, but everything was in my suitcase.
Even if we weren’t already running late, it’s Christmas Eve, and no shops will be open now…
I glance down, but I’m still in my airport outfit.
I’m in leggings and an old Christmas sweater dress with penguins, for crying out loud!
I’m wearing Ugg boots! I love them, but I can’t believe I’m going to have to go to the fanciest restaurant wearing Uggs!
“It’s fine,” Nicolas says, glancing over at me again. “You’re cute no matter what you wear, sweetheart.”
“I agree,” Emi adds. “Don’t worry about it, Ophie, you look great.”
“No, I don’t!” I whine. “You guys are really nice, but I look fine for a flight, not for a fancy Christmas dinner! I swear, I had found the perfect dress for tonight, and I even had some cute accessories for my hair and pretty Mary Jane shoes!”
Nicolas hesitates, visibly assessing my panic before he responds.
“I’m sure your dress was beautiful,” he says gently, “but it’s in Boston, sweetheart, and I’m afraid there is nothing we can do. You’re fine like this, I promise. You always look very pretty.”
The worst part is that I know he absolutely means that, but my heart won’t hear it right now.
I spent hours shopping with Jenna to find that perfect, beautiful velvet emerald dress that would have been perfect with the little holly hair clips and the earrings he got me for my birthday! And I was going to match Nicolas’s velvet jacket too…
I know it’s silly, but I really wanted to have my little Christmas Cinderella moment, like in the movies, when Nicolas would have finally seen me in it, and he would have loved it, because he does love anything I wear, but I know he would have loved me in that dress even more.
And we would have looked so lovely together in the photos.
I wanted to wear that dress to match Nicolas in the pictures of our first Christmas together, make it extra special for us to remember… .
Plus, I have seen the photos other couples took there; it is really, most definitely, not a penguin-dress-and-Uggs-are-fine kind of place!!
“He’s right, Ophie,” Emi leans forward despite her big belly to rub my shoulder, “and I promise no one else will care, sweetie. It’s a Christmas dinner in a restaurant, and there will be children around! You think I can wear anything fancy at thirty-five weeks?”
I love Emi, and I know she’s trying to comfort me, but I give her the stink eye a little bit. She looks absolutely amazing at thirty-five weeks, and I can tell she’s wearing a beautiful strass short dress under her coat, one that shows off her petite frame and adorable baby belly.
“You are looking gorgeous and fancy already,” I reply, and I mean it.
“Antoine had to hide my heels, Ophelia. Otherwise, I can assure you I would not be wearing these grandma flats.”
I chuckle, but her ballerinas are completely fine. And she’s my height, too, so I guess we’ll at least have that in common tonight… even if I’m probably going to look like a lost child.
But it’s Christmas Eve and, well, I hate being the Debbie Downer.
Like Nicolas said, there’s nothing we can do, no matter how disappointed I am.
So, I take a deep breath, resolve to stop complaining, and change the subject, asking Emi for the latest updates about the baby and Antoine.
At least the cute baby clothes we found for his niece are in Nicolas’s suitcase, so there’s that…
It’s only when we finally make it to the beautiful hotel that my heart eases up a little, because it is absolutely beautiful.
Like, this-looks-like-a-real-life-Christmas-movie beautiful.
It’s nighttime, and snow is falling, just enough that everything is covered in that perfect, crisp, fresh white blanket.
There are Christmas lights everywhere, and tourists or passersby still lingering in the streets, taking one last walk around, huddled together and sipping hot mulled wine or hot cocoa, maybe taking one last walk before they go inside for dinner.
That’s when it finally, really hits me: it’s Christmas Eve!
We finally arrive, and for one second, I’m a bit grateful for my reliable Uggs on the icy pavement. Nicolas helps Emi out of the rental car, and we link arms to avoid slipping as we hurry inside, along with a little crowd of excited visitors.
We’ve barely stepped inside when we immediately find Solange pacing around in the lobby.
I’ve already met her, but it always surprises me how young and beautiful Nicolas’s mom looks, with her beautiful blonde hair, long nose, and those blue eyes the twins inherited.
Everything about her is thin: her body, her face shape, her eyebrows, and even the lips she has pressed in a tight line as she spots us.
She is already a remarkable woman on a regular day, but tonight she really stands out from all the visitors in their thick winter coats, as she strides towards us with her fur pelt and the beautiful blue gown underneath.
I kind of expect her to light up as she sees us… I’m wrong.
“Enfin!” she exclaims in lieu of greeting. “Our reservation is in vingt minutes!”
Oh, I don’t need the translation to tell we’re in trouble… Emi lets out a quiet sigh and gives me a quick, supportive look before gently locking her arm with mine.
“We warned you we would be late, Maman,” Nicolas replies with a confused frown.
“It can’t be helped that the snowstorm delayed us, and Ophelia’s suitcase was lost. Plus, we still have time.
We have yet to check into the room, and we could use a minute to refresh ourselves, but we should be fine for the reservation. ”
“I promise we won’t be late,” I add. “Bonsoir, Solange. Sorry for the delay—”
“Of course not,” Solange cuts me off. “I made this reservation months ago, we cannot miss it!”
She switches to some frantic, upset-sounding French as she keeps talking to Nicolas with a tone that is definitely not very festive, but he doesn’t flinch.
I give a look to Emi, but she just shrugs.
Solange only ever switches to French when she doesn’t want to include us in the discussion, and sometimes I can’t tell if it’s a good or a bad thing…
“We’ll go check in now,” Nicolas eventually says, with impeccable calm. “We will be back in time for dinner.”
“Well, since I’m on my own, I’m going to the bar,” his mother shrugs, still looking accusatory. “I could use a fl?te de champagne after all this stress!”
She dramatically spins on her high heels and walks toward what I assume to be the bar. Next to me, Emi lets out a heavy sigh.
“Well, it doesn’t look like she’s expecting me, so I’m going to pop into the bathroom,” she says. “You guys, please take aaaaall your time checking in. I’ll wait for you back here.”
She walks off in the opposite direction Solange took, and I turn to Nicolas.
“…We’re in trouble, aren’t we?” I grimace.
“We’re not,” he replies. “Maman is being unreasonable. We still have… well, seventeen minutes before dinner,” he adds after checking his watch. “That’s plenty of time. Don’t worry.”
I nod, but I let him talk to the receptionist and do our check-in while I finally take a minute to observe the hotel, and it’s truly beautiful.
I couldn’t get a good look because it was already nighttime, and we rushed inside, but the Chateau Frontenac is a beautiful European-style castle overlooking the St. Lawrence River.
I read online that it’s over a hundred years old, has hosted many celebrities, and is even one of the most prestigious hotels in the world, on top of being a historical landmark!