Chapter 6
Lauren curled into the corner of the couch with her laptop balanced on her knees, Pumpkin tucked firmly against her hip.
Outside, Los Angeles hummed on. Sirens sounded in the distance, a neighbor’s dog barked, and a car in need of a new muffler passed along the street in front of her house.
She blew across the surface of her steaming cup of cocoa, took a sip, and set the mug aside. Pumpkin lifted her head, hopeful.
“Not for you,” she murmured, scratching behind her ear. The pup’s tail thumped once, accepting this small injustice with grace.
Lauren opened her laptop and typed Christmas vacation dog friendly New England into the search bar.
Snowy villages flooded the screen, with twinkling lights, white church steeples, and ice skaters circling a pond.
She scrolled slowly, deliberately, the way she did when she was choosing fabric, letting texture and feeling register before logic caught up.
Mystic, Connecticut appeared first. She clicked.
The images were lovely. Mystic was a small village by the water.
The first image featured wooden buildings with warm windows glowing against the early dark.
A frozen seaport looked as quiet as a museum.
She imagined walking Pumpkin along the docks, the boards creaking under her boots, the air sharp and clean.
“It’s sweet,” she said aloud.
Pumpkin’s ears flicked at the sound of Lauren’s voice.
Lauren scrolled through dog-friendly inns, noting the cozy adjectives used to describe them—charming, quaint, intimate.
She envisioned it clearly: coffee from a paper cup, early bedtimes, and a compact room featuring sloping ceilings and a bed nestled beneath the eves.
Mystic would be fine. She hovered over the Book Now button longer than she meant to.
Pumpkin shifted, pressing closer, her weight warm and reassuring.
Lauren glanced down at her and felt a small, unnamable resistance rise in her chest. Mystic might be a bit too calm. She closed the tab.
Next came Vermont: snowier, quieter, and with villages so picturesque they looked unreal. She scrolled past covered bridges, horses in blankets, and fireplaces everywhere. She lingered for a moment, then shook her head. Too much snow. Too much solitude. I want to be alone, not lost.
She clicked on the next option. Newport, Rhode Island, near Providence.
Lauren almost skipped past it. The Gilded Age vibe seemed too polished, but something made her pause.
The screen filled with the image of a shop-and-restaurant-studded wharf, the Atlantic Ocean a deep sapphire beyond.
Boats dotted the water, their sails unfurled.
Lauren clicked her way through images of Gilded Age mansions, Colonial buildings bearing the rich history of the Revolutionary War, and a path winding along the edge of a cliff.
Her breath slowed without her noticing. “This looks nothing like L.A.,” she said, tilting her laptop toward Pumpkin. “See?”
Pumpkin lifted her muzzle from her paws and sniffed the computer screen.
“Even the houses are completely different.” Lauren imagined poking in and out of charming boutiques and exploring the old cobblestone streets with Pumpkin at her side.
She clicked again, narrowing her search to Newport hotels dog friendly. One listing stopped her cold. The Vanderbilt.
She opened the page to their website and felt the pull immediately. The graciousness of the lines of the former mansion and the symmetrical proportions of its facade. The split staircase sweeping from the foyer to the upper floors, and the attention to every detail in the hotel’s recent remodel.
“Look at this cozy library.” She tapped the screen.
“I’d have chosen the same deep chairs and soft lamps.
The designer has established four separate seating areas, creating an intimate feel to the space.
” She looked down at Pumpkin. “Would you like to curl up on this gorgeous rug while I sip a cup of tea in the afternoon?”
Pumpkin sneezed.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
She scrolled through the entire photo deck, noticing how the place balanced elegance with warmth, and tradition with comfort.
It wasn’t trying to be cheerful. It simply was.
I can be alone here without feeling conspicuous, she thought.
The holiday could unfold gently instead of demanding joy on command.
Pumpkin lifted her face, nose twitching, sensing that Lauren had made a decision.
“What do you think?” Lauren asked her.
Her tail wagged once. Then again.
Lauren laughed. “I think that library may become our favorite place. The website even says people play Mah Jongg there, and beginners are welcome. That’s me, for sure.”
Lauren imagined mornings in Newport, coffee and croissants at a cafe facing the water, afternoons wandering without an agenda, and evenings returning to the elegance of their hotel. “I can’t remember the last time I spent a week doing exactly what I wanted. No schedule. No obligations.”
Her fingers rested on the trackpad as her mind returned to Mystic again. Then she thought of Newport. She didn’t analyze the choice, but trusted the feeling, the way she did when her eye told her a décor item was right in a room. Lauren clicked. The confirmation page loaded, bright and decisive.
She leaned back against the couch and closed her eyes for a moment, Pumpkin’s steady breathing reassuring at her side. “Okay,” she whispered. “We’re doing this.” Providence, Rhode Island. Newport. The Vanderbilt.
Pumpkin let out a long, contented sigh and snuggled closer, as if she had always known.