Читать книгу: «A Wedding In December»

This book is dedicated to Manpreet Grewal, an inspiration in every way.

Contents

Cover

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dear Reader

Dedication

Maggie

Katie

Maggie

Rosie

Katie

Rosie

Maggie

Katie

Rosie

Maggie

Katie

Maggie

Katie

Rosie

Katie

Maggie

Rosie

Katie

Rosie

Maggie

Acknowledgments

Extract

About the Publisher

Maggie

When her phone rang at three in the morning, ripping her from a desperately needed sleep, Maggie’s first thought was bad news.

Her mind raced through the possibilities, starting with the worst-case scenario. Death, or at least life-changing injury. Police. Ambulances.

Heart pounding, brain foggy, she grabbed her phone from the summit of her teetering pile of books. The name on the screen offered no reassurance.

Trouble stalked her youngest daughter.

“Rosie?” She fumbled for the light and sat up. The book she’d fallen asleep reading thudded to the floor, scattering the pile of Christmas cards she’d started to write the night before. She’d chosen a winter scene of snow-laden trees. They hadn’t had a flake of snow in the village on Christmas Day for close to a decade. They often joked that it was a good thing their last name was White because it was the only way they were ever going to have a White Christmas.

She snuggled under the blanket with the phone. “Has something happened?” The physical distance between her and Rosie made her feel frustrated and helpless.

Everyone said global travel made the world smaller, but it didn’t seem smaller to Maggie. Why couldn’t her daughter have continued her studies closer to home? Oxford, with its famous spires and ancient colleges, was only a few miles away. Rosie had done her undergraduate degree there, followed by a master’s. Maggie had loved having her close by. They’d taken sunlit strolls along cobbled streets, past ancient honey-colored buildings and through Christchurch Meadows, golden with daffodils. They’d followed the slow meander of the river and cheered on the rowing crews. Maggie had hoped, privately, that her daughter might stay close by, but after Rosie had graduated she’d been offered a place in a US doctoral program, complete with full funding.

Can you believe it, Mum? The day she’d had the news she’d danced across the living room, hair flying around her face, twirling until she was dizzy and Maggie was dizzy watching her. Are you proud of me?

Maggie had been proud and dismayed in equal measure, although she’d hidden the dismayed part of course. That was what you did when you were a parent.

Even she could see it was too good an opportunity to turn down, but still a small part of her had wished Rosie had turned it down. That transatlantic flight from the nest left Maggie with email, Skype and social media, none of which felt entirely satisfactory. Even less so in the middle of the night. Had Rosie only been gone for four months? It felt like a lifetime since they’d delivered her to the airport on that sweltering summer’s day.

“Is it your asthma? Are you in hospital?” What could she do if Rosie was in the hospital? Nothing. Anxiety was a constant companion, never more so than now.

If it had been her eldest daughter, Katie, who had moved to a different country she might have felt more relaxed. Katie was reliable and sensible, but Rosie? Rosie had always been impulsive and adventurous.

“I’m not in hospital. Don’t fuss!”

Only now did Maggie hear the noise in the background. Cheering, whooping.

“Do you have your inhaler with you? You sound breathless.” The sound woke the memories. Rosie, eyes bulging, lips stained blue. The whistling sound as air struggled to squeeze through narrowed airways. Maggie making emergency calls with hands that shook almost too hard to hold the phone, the terror raw and brutal although she kept that hidden from her child. Calm, she’d learned, was important even if it was faked.

Even when Rosie had moved from child to adult there had been no reprieve.

Some children grew out of asthma. Not Rosie.

There had been a couple of occasions when Rosie was in college when she’d gone to parties without her inhaler. A few hours of dancing later and she’d been rushed to the emergency department. That had been a 3: 00 a.m. phone call, too, and Maggie had raced through the night to be by her side. Those were the episodes Maggie knew about. She was sure there were plenty more that Rosie had kept to herself.

“I’m breathless because I’m excited. I’m twenty-two, Mum. When are you going to stop worrying?”

“That would be never. Your child is always your child, no matter how many candles are on the birthday cake. Where are you?”

“I’m with Dan’s family in Aspen for Thanksgiving, and I have news.” She broke off and Maggie heard the clink of glasses and Rosie’s infectious laugh. It was impossible to hear that laugh and not want to smile, too. The sound contrasted with the silence of Maggie’s bedroom.

A waft of cold air chilled her skin and she stood up and grabbed her robe from the back of the chair. Honeysuckle Cottage looked idyllic from the outside, but it was impossibly drafty. The ventilation was a relief in August but froze you to the bone in November. She really needed to do something about the insulation before she even thought about selling the place. Historic charm, climbing roses and a view of the village green couldn’t compensate for frostbite.

Or maybe it wasn’t the house that was cold. Maybe it was her.

Knocked flat by a wave of sadness and she struggled to right herself.

“What’s happening? What news? It sounds like you’re having a party.”

“Dan proposed. Literally out of the blue. We were taking it in turns to say what we’re thankful for and when it was his turn he gave me a funny look and then he got down on one knee and—Mum, we’re getting married.”

Maggie sat down hard on the edge of the bed, the freezing air forgotten. “Married? But you and Dan have only been together for a few weeks—”

“Eleven weeks, four days, six hours and fifteen minutes—oh wait, now it’s sixteen, I mean seventeen—” She was laughing, and Maggie tried to laugh with her.

How should she handle this? “That’s not very long, sweetheart.” But completely in character for Rosie, who bounced from one impulse to another, powered by enthusiasm.

“It feels so right, I can’t even tell you. And you’ll understand because it was like that for you and Dad.”

Maggie stared at the damp patch on the wall.

Tell her the truth.

Her mouth moved but she couldn’t push the words out. This was the wrong time. She should have done it months ago, but she’d been too much of a coward.

And now it was too late. She didn’t want to be the slayer of happy moments.

She couldn’t even say you’re too young, because she’d been the same age when she’d had Katie. Which basically made her a hypocrite. Or did it make her someone with experience?

“You just started your postgrad—”

“I’m not giving it up. I can be married and study. Plenty do it.”

Maggie couldn’t argue with that. “I’m happy for you.” Did she sound happy? She tried harder. “Woohoo!”

She’d thought she’d white-knuckled her way through all the toughest parts of parenting, but it turned out there were still some surprises waiting for her. Rosie wasn’t a child anymore. She had to be allowed to make her own decisions. And her own mistakes.

Rosie was talking again. “I know it’s all a bit fast, but you’re going to love Dan as much as I do. You said you thought he was great when you spoke to him.”

But speaking to someone on a video call wasn’t the same as meeting them in person, was it?

Maggie swallowed down all the words of warning that rose up inside her. She was not going to turn into her own mother and send clouds to darken every bright moment. “He seemed charming, and I’m thrilled for you. If I don’t sound it, it’s because it’s the middle of the night here, and you know what I’m like when I’ve just woken up. When I saw your name pop up on the screen, I was worried it was your asthma.”

“Haven’t had an attack in ages. I’m sorry I woke you, but I wanted to share my news.”

“I’m glad you woke me. Tell me everything.” She closed her eyes and tried to pretend her daughter was in the room with her, and not thousands of miles away.

There was no reason to panic. It was an engagement, that was all. There was plenty of time for them to decide if this was the right thing for them. “We’ll have a big celebration when you and your sister are here for Christmas. Would Dan like to join us? I can’t wait to meet him. Maybe we’ll throw a party. Invite the Baxters, and all your friends from college and school.” Planning lifted Maggie’s mood. Christmas was her favorite time of year, the one occasion the whole family gathered together. Even Katie, with her busy life as a doctor, usually managed to beg and barter a few days at Christmas in exchange for covering the busy New Year shift. Maggie was looking forward to spending time with her. She had a niggling suspicion her eldest daughter was avoiding her. Every time Maggie suggested meeting up, Katie made an excuse, which was unlike her because she rarely refused a free lunch.

Christmas would give her a chance to dig a little deeper.

In her opinion, Oxford was the perfect place to spend the festive season. True, there was unlikely to be snow, but what was better than a postlunch walk listening to the peal of bells on a crisp, cold winter’s day?

It promised to be perfect, apart from one complication.

Nick.

Maggie still hadn’t figured out how she was going to handle that side of things.

Maybe an engagement was exactly what they needed to shift the focus of attention.

“Christmas is one of the things I need to talk to you about.” Rosie sounded hesitant. “I planned to come home, but since Dan proposed—well, we don’t see the point in waiting. We’ve chosen the day. We’re getting married on Christmas Eve.”

Maggie frowned. “You mean next year?”

“No, this year.”

She counted the days and her brain almost exploded. “You want to get married in less than four weeks? To a man you barely know?” Rosie had always been impulsive, but this wasn’t a soft toy that would be abandoned after a few days, or a dress that would turn out to be not quite the right color. Marriage wasn’t something that could be rectified with a refund. There was no reason for haste, unless—“Sweetie—”

“I know what you’re thinking, and it isn’t that. I’m not pregnant! We’re getting married because we’re in love. I adore him. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

You barely know him.

Maggie shifted, uncomfortably aware that knowing someone well didn’t inoculate you against problems.

“I’m excited for you!” Turned out she could fake excitement as convincingly as she could fake calm. “But I could never arrange anything that quickly. Even a small wedding takes months of planning. When Jennifer Hill was married in the summer her mother told me they had to book the photographer more than a year in advance. And would everyone stay? It’s Christmas. Everywhere will already be booked, and even if we managed to find something it would cost a fortune at this time of year.”

How many could she accommodate in Honeysuckle Cottage? And what would Dan’s family think of Rosie’s home, with its slightly crooked walls and its antiquated heating system? Could English country charm compensate for frozen toes? In the summer the place was picture-perfect, with its walled garden and profusion of climbing roses, but living here in winter felt more like an exercise in survival. Still, Aspen was in the Rocky Mountains, and that had to be a pretty cold place in winter, too, surely?

Maybe she and Dan’s mother would bond over the challenges of heating a property in cold weather.

“You wouldn’t have to arrange anything,” Rosie said. “We’re getting married here, in Aspen. I feel terrible about not having our usual family gathering in the cottage but spending the holidays here will be magical. Remember all those years Katie and I used to stare out of the window hoping for snow? There’s more snow here than you could ever imagine. Christmas in Colorado is going to be heaven. The scenery is incredible, and it will be a White Christmas in every way possible.”

Christmas in Colorado.

Maggie stared at the dusky pink curtains that pooled on the dark oak floor. She’d made them during the long nights she’d spent watching over Rosie.

“You’re not coming home for Christmas?” Why had she said that? She was not going to turn into one of those mothers who buried their children in guilt. “You must get married where and when you want, but I don’t suppose Aspen will be any different from here in terms of arrangements. To arrange a wedding in under a month would take a miracle.”

“We have a miracle. Catherine, Dan’s mother, is a wedding planner. She’s amazing. This only happened an hour ago and she’s already made some calls and arranged the flowers and the cake. Usually she handles celebrities, so she has tons of contacts.”

“Oh, well—super.” Maggie felt as if she’d fallen in a river and was being swept along, helpless and flailing. “She doesn’t mind helping you?”

“She’s excited. And she has flawless taste. Everything will be perfect.”

Maggie thought of her own imperfect life and felt a rush of something she recognized as jealousy. How could she be jealous of someone she’d never met?

Maybe she was having a midlife crisis, but surely if that was the case then it should have happened years ago when Rosie had first left home? Why now? She was having delayed empty nest syndrome.

She blinked to clear her misty vision and wondered why she’d ever thought it would be easy to be a parent.

Focusing on the practical, she made a mental list of all the things she’d have to do to cancel Christmas. The cake would keep, as would the cranberry sauce, waiting in the freezer. She’d ordered a turkey from a local farmer, but maybe she could still cancel that.

The one thing not so easily canceled were her expectations.

The White family always gathered together at Christmas. They had their traditions, which probably would have seemed crazy to some, but Maggie cherished them. Decorating the tree, singing carols, doing a massive jigsaw, playing silly games. Being together. It didn’t happen often now that her daughters were grown, and she’d been looking forward to it.

“Have you told your sister yet?”

“She is my next call. Not that she’s likely to answer her phone. She’s always working. I want her to be my maid of honor.”

What would Katie’s reaction be? “Your sister doesn’t consider herself a romantic.”

Maggie sometimes wondered if working in the emergency department for so long had distorted her elder daughter’s view of humanity.

“I know,” Rosie said, “but this isn’t any old wedding. It’s my wedding, and I know she’ll do it for me.”

“You’re right, she will.” Katie had always been a protective and loving older sister.

Maggie glanced at the photograph she kept on the table next to her bed. The two girls standing side by side, arms wrapped around each other, their cheeks pressed together as they faced the camera, smiles merging. It was one of her favorite photos.

“I know you hate flying, Mum, but you will come, won’t you? I badly want you all to be there.”

Flying. Rosie was right that she hated it.

In company when conversation turned to travel, she pretended she was protecting the planet by avoiding flying, but in reality she was protecting herself. The idea of being propelled through the air in a tin can horrified her. It all seemed out of her control. What if the pilot had drunk too much the night before? What if they collided with another plane? Everyone knew that airspace was ridiculously overcrowded. What about drones? Bird strikes?

When the children were young she and Nick had bundled them into the car and taken them to the beach. Once, they’d taken the ferry across to France and driven as far as Italy (never again, Nick had said, as they’d been bombarded with a chorus of are we nearly there all the way from Paris to Pisa).

And now she was expected to fly to the Rocky Mountains for Christmas.

And she would. Of course she would.

“We’ll be there. Nothing would keep us away.” Maggie waved goodbye to her dreams of a family Christmas at the cottage. “But what about a venue? Will you be able to find something at such short notice?”

“We’re going to have the wedding right here, at his home. Dan’s family own Snowfall Lodge. It’s this amazing boutique hotel just outside Aspen. I can’t wait for you to see it. There are views of the forest and the mountains, and outdoor hot tubs—it’s going to be the perfect place to spend Christmas. The perfect place to get married. I’m so excited!”

Honeysuckle Cottage was the perfect place to spend Christmas.

Maggie couldn’t imagine spending it in a place she didn’t know, with people she didn’t know. Not only that, but perfect people she didn’t know. Even the prospect of snow didn’t make her feel better.

“It sounds as if you have it all covered. All we need to do is think about what to wear.”

“Mm, I was going to mention that. It’s pretty cold at this time of year. You’re going to need to wear some serious layers.”

“I was talking about your clothes. Your wedding dress.”

“Catherine is taking me to her favorite boutique bridal store tomorrow. She’s booked an appointment and they’re closing the store for us and everything.”

On the few occasions Maggie had thought about Rosie getting married, she’d imagined planning it together, poring over photographs in magazines, trying on dresses.

Never once had she pictured the whole thing happening without her.

Now she thought about it, very little of her life had turned out the way she’d planned.

She stared at the empty expanse of bed next to her.

“That’s—kind of her.”

“She is kind. She says I’m the daughter she never had. She’s really spoiling me.”

But Rosie was her daughter, Maggie thought. She should be the one doing the spoiling.

No matter how hard she tried, it was impossible not to be hurt and a little resentful.

Already she felt more like a guest than the mother of the bride.

No! She wasn’t going to turn into that sort of mother. This was Rosie’s special day, not hers. Her feelings didn’t matter.

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothing. Get yourselves here. Catherine can’t wait to meet you. I know you’ll love her.”

Maggie wondered what Rosie had said about her. My mother works in academic publishing. She loves baking and gardening. To a high-flying celebrity wedding planner, she probably sounded as exciting as yesterday’s laundry.

“I’m looking forward to meeting her.”

“Can I speak to Dad? I want to hear his voice.”

Maggie gripped the phone. She hadn’t anticipated this. “I—um—he’s not here right now.”

“It’s the middle of the night. How can he not be there?”

Maggie searched frantically for a plausible explanation. She could hear Nick’s voice, for goodness’ sake, Mags, this is absurd. It’s time to tell the truth.

But the truth was the last thing Rosie needed to hear on the day of her engagement.

She would not spoil her daughter’s big moment.

“He’s gone for a walk.”

“A walk? At three in the morning? Have you guys finally bought a dog or something?”

“No. Your dad was working on a paper until late and couldn’t sleep. But he should be back any minute.” She was slightly shocked by her own creativity under pressure. She’d always raised the girls to tell the truth, and here she was lying like a pro.

“Get him to call me the moment he walks through the door.”

“Won’t you be asleep by then?”

There was a sound of glasses clinking together and Rosie giggled. “It’s only eight o’clock in the evening here. Will you get him to call me back?”

Unable to think of an excuse, Maggie promised that Nick would call as soon as he came in, and after a few more excited words she ended the call.

She sat for a moment, then walked to the window. It was dark outside, but the moon sent a ghostly glow across the village green.

In the summer it was the venue for cricket, and in the winter the trees were decked with tiny fairy lights paid for by the village council. There had been an outcry at proposals to divert traffic through the center of the village.

Maggie guessed they didn’t have those problems in Aspen. Nobody was likely to have to fight the demise of the local bus service, or the plan to only open the library two days a week.

Unable to see an alternative, she picked up the phone and dialed Nick’s number.

It rang and rang, but Maggie persevered. Nick’s ability to sleep through anything was something that she’d both resented and envied when the children were young. It had been Maggie who had dragged herself from the bed every half an hour when Rosie was tiny, and Maggie who had borne the brunt of the asthma attacks even when Nick was home between trips.

Eventually he picked up the phone with a grunt. “‘lo.”

“Nick?”

“Maggie?” His voice was rough with sleep and she could imagine him shaking himself awake like a bear waking from hibernation.

“You need to call Rosie.”

“Now? In the middle of the night? What’s wrong?” To give him his due, he was instantly concerned. “Is she in the hospital?”

“No. She has news.” Should she tell him or leave Rosie to tell him herself? In the end she decided to tell him. Nick tended to be blunt in his responses and she didn’t want him spoiling Rosie’s moment. “She and Dan are getting married.” She heard the tinkling of glass and Nick cursing fluently. “Are you all right?”

“Knocked a glass of water over.”

Nick was a professor of Egyptology, ridiculously intelligent and endearingly clumsy with everyday items. At least, Maggie had found it endearing in the beginning. It had become less endearing as the years had passed and he’d broken half her favorite china. She used to joke that he was so used to dealing with pottery fragments he didn’t know how to handle an entire piece.

“She and Dan are getting married in Colorado at Christmas.”

“This Christmas? The one happening next month?”

“That’s the one. Dan’s family own a luxury resort. I’ve forgotten what it’s called.”

“Snowfall Lodge.”

“How do you know that?”

“Rosie mentioned it when she told me about her plans for Thanksgiving. Goodness. Married. I didn’t see that one coming. Our little Rosie. Always doing the unexpected.” There was a pause and she heard rustling in the background and the click of a light switch. “How do you feel?”

Sad. Lost. Confused. Anxious.

She wasn’t sure how many of those feelings could be attributed to Rosie’s news.

“I feel fine.” That was as much of a lie as letting Rosie think Nick was in bed with her. “It’s Rosie’s life, and she should do what she wants to do.”

“What about Christmas? I know how important it is to you.”

“We’ll still be having Christmas, just not at Honeysuckle Cottage. The wedding is planned for Christmas Eve.” She didn’t quite manage to keep the wobble from her voice.

“Are you going to go?”

“What sort of a question is that? You seriously think I wouldn’t attend my daughter’s wedding?”

“I hadn’t given it any thought at all until two minutes ago when you first mentioned it. I know how you love Christmas at the cottage, and how much you hate flying. I know pretty much everything about you.”

She thought about the file she’d left open on the kitchen table.

He didn’t know everything.

“If my daughter is getting married in Aspen, then that’s where I’ll be, too.”

“How? I’ve never managed to get you on a plane. Not even for our honeymoon.”

“I’ll find a way.” She could do a fear of flying course, but that felt like a ridiculous waste of money. Alcohol would be cheaper. She didn’t often drink, so a couple of gin and tonics should do it. “We can sort out details later. She wants you to call her back so that she can tell you in person.”

There was a pause. “Where does she think I am? What did you tell her?”

“That you were out walking because you couldn’t sleep.”

His sigh echoed down the phone like an accusation. “This has gone on long enough. We should tell them, Mags.” He sounded tired. “They’re not children anymore. They deserve to know the truth.”

“We’ll tell them when the time is right, and that time isn’t when your youngest daughter calls all excited to tell you she’s getting married.”

“All right, but we tell her before we arrive in Colorado. We’ll call her together next week. We’ve been living apart for months now. It’s time to tell both girls that it’s over.”

Over.

Maggie felt her throat thicken and her chest hurt.

It was because it was the middle of the night. Things always seemed worse at three in the morning.

“I’d rather tell Katie in person, but she’s elusive at the moment. Have you heard from her lately?”

“No, but that isn’t unusual. You two have this mother-daughter thing going on. You’re the one she always calls.”

But Katie hadn’t called. She hadn’t called in a while.

Did that mean she was busy, or that something was wrong?

“I’ll try calling her again. She usually does nothing but sleep and eat over Christmas. Traveling to Aspen might be difficult for her.”

Difficult for all of them.

A sister who didn’t believe in marriage, and parents who were divorcing.

What sort of a wedding was this going to be?

Katie

“That’s it, Sally. All done.” Katie removed her surgical gloves and stood up. The stitches were neat and she was satisfied she’d done the best possible job. There would be a scar, but Katie knew that with or without a scar Sally would never forget tonight. “Is there someone we can call for you?”

The woman shook her head. There was bruising and swelling on her left cheek and disillusionment in her eyes. “I never thought this would happen to me.”

Katie sat down again. Her shoulder ached from sitting in one position for too long and she rolled it discreetly to try to ease the discomfort. “It can happen to anyone. It’s not about you. It’s about him. It’s not your fault.” It was important to say the words, even though she knew she probably wouldn’t be believed.

“I feel stupid. I keep thinking I must have missed something. We’ve been together for two years. Married for four months. He’s never done anything like this before. I love him. I thought he loved me. We met when I started a new job and he swept me off my feet. He seemed perfect.”

Katie shivered. “Perfect” wasn’t normal. What human being was perfect? “I’m sorry.”

“There were no signs. No clues.”

“Perfect” might have been a sign. Or maybe she was jaded.

Over the years she’d worked in the emergency department, she’d seen it all. Children who were abused. Women who were abused and, yes, men who were abused. She’d seen people who knifed each other, people who drove too fast and paid the price, people who drank and then climbed behind the wheel and took a life. There were plenty of regular accidents, too, of course, along with heart attacks, brain hemorrhages and any number of acute emergencies that required immediate attention. And then there were the hordes who decided the emergency department was the easiest place to access medical care of the most trivial kind. Each day she waded through a mixed soup of humanity, some good, some not so good.

“When we met, he was sweet and kind. Loving. Attentive.” Sally wiped her cheek with the heel of her hand. “I’m trying not to cry, because crying hurts. The physical injuries are awful, but the worst thing is that it shakes your confidence in your own judgment. You must have seen it before. I can’t believe I’m the first.”

Katie handed her a tissue. “You’re not the first.”

“How do you handle it? Working here, you must see the worst of human behavior.”

Katie’s shoulder chose that moment to give an agonizing twinge. Yes, she saw the worst of human behavior. She had to remind herself that she also saw the best. She wondered what would happen to this woman. To this marriage. Would she forgive him? Would the cycle continue? “What will you do? Do you have a plan?”

“No. Until he threw me down the stairs I didn’t realize I needed one.” Sally blew her nose. “The house is mine, but I don’t feel safe in it right now so I’ll probably stay with my parents for a while. He wants to talk to me, and I suppose I should at least listen.”

Katie wanted to tell her not to go back, but it wasn’t her place to give advice. Her job was to fix the physical damage. Helping Sally deal with the emotional carnage and find some degree of empowerment was someone else’s responsibility. “The police want to talk to you. Are you feeling up to it?”

“Not really, but it’s important so I’ll do it. This was going to be our first Christmas together.” Sally tucked the tissue into her sleeve. “I had it all planned.”

The time of year seemed to amplify her distress, but Katie knew from experience that tragedy didn’t take a break for Christmas.

Someone opened the door. “Dr. White! We need you.”

Saturday nights in the emergency department were not for the fainthearted, although these days it wasn’t only Saturdays. Every night was insane.

“I’ll be right there.” She glanced at the nurse who had assisted. “Can you make sure Sally has all the information she needs?” She turned back to her patient. “When you’re ready, there are people you can speak to. People who can help.”

“But no one who can turn the clock back. No one who can turn him into the man I thought he was.”

Katie wondered if Sally’s worst injury was the damage to her belief system. How did you ever trust a man again? “I hope everything works out for you.”

Katie was unlikely to find out, of course. The place was like a conveyor belt of trauma. She dealt with what came through the doors, and then she moved on. There was no long-term management here.

“You’ve been very kind. Your parents must be proud.”

“Dr. White!”

Katie ground her teeth. The reality was that compassion had to be squashed into the shortest time possible. They were two doctors down and she had a queue of patients waiting for her attention, so she smiled at Sally again and left the room.

Would her parents be proud if they’d witnessed her life over the last few weeks? She didn’t think so.

She was probably letting them down. She knew she was letting herself down.

She looked at the nurse who was hovering in the corridor. “Problem?”

“The guy coughing up blood—”

“Mr. Harris.”

“Yes. Harris. How do you do that? How do you know everyone’s name even though you only spoke to him for less than a minute?”

“I like to make an inhuman experience as human as possible. What about him?”

“His tests are back. Dr. Mitford saw him and says he needs to be admitted, but there is a bed crisis.”

When wasn’t there a bed crisis? You stood more chance of finding a unicorn in your Christmas stocking than you did a hospital bed. Demand exceeded supply. A patient she’d seen at the beginning of her shift was still waiting for a bed six hours later. Because there was always a risk of hospital-acquired infection, Katie sent people home whenever she was able to do so. “Did you manage to contact his daughter? Is she on her way?”

“Yes, and yes.”

“Call me when she arrives. I’ll talk to her. He might be better off at home if there is someone there to take care of him.” And better for his dignity. She’d seen on the notes that he was a retired CEO. Once, he’d probably commanded a room. Now he was the victim of human frailty. No matter how busy she was, she tried to remember that landing in the emergency department was one of the most stressful moments of a person’s life. What was routine to her was often terrifying for the patient.

She never forgot what it had been like for her mother being in the hospital with Rosie.

Katie saw three more patients in quick succession and was then hit by a wave of dizziness.

It had happened a few times over the past few weeks and she was starting to panic. She needed to bring her A game to work, and lately that wasn’t happening.

“I’m going to grab a quick coffee before I keel over.” She turned and bumped straight into her colleague.

“Hey, Katie.” Mike Bannister had been in her year at med school and they’d remained friends.

“How was the honeymoon?”

“Let’s put it this way, two weeks in the Caribbean wasn’t enough. What are you doing at work? After what happened I thought—are you sure you should be here?”

“I’m fine.”

“Did you take any time off?”

“I don’t need time off.” She forced herself to breathe slowly, hoping Mike would move on.

He glanced over his shoulder to check no one was listening. “You’re stressed out and on the edge. I’m worried about you.”

“You’re imagining things.” She was totally stressed out. “I probably have low blood sugar. I’m cranky when I’m hungry and I haven’t had a break since I walked into this place seven hours ago. I’m about to fix that.”

“You’re allowed to be human, Katie.” Mike’s gaze settled on her face. “What happened was nasty. Scary. No one would blame you if—”

“Worry about the patients, not me. There are more than enough of them.” Katie tried to ignore the pain in her shoulder and the rapid beating of her heart. She didn’t want to think about it and she certainly didn’t want to talk about it.

She’d once overheard her mother saying to someone, Katie is solid as a rock.

Up until a month ago she wouldn’t have disagreed.

Now she felt anything but solid. She was falling apart, and it was becoming harder and harder to hide it from her colleagues. Even the thought of going to work brought her to the edge of a panic attack, and she’d never suffered from panic attacks.

Her mother kept calling suggesting lunch and she kept stalling because she was afraid she might break down.

“Sorry.” A nurse bumped into her as he sprinted from one end of the department to another and the wail of an ambulance siren told her the workload wasn’t going to ease any time soon.

“The paramedics are bringing in a nasty head injury. And that film crew are driving me insane,” Mike said.

Katie had forgotten the film crew. They were filming a “f ly on the wall” documentary. She suspected they were beginning to wish they’d chosen a different wall.

The cameraman had passed out on day one after witnessing the aftermath of a particularly nasty road accident. He’d hit his head on a trolley and she’d had to put eight stitches in his head. His colleagues had thought it hilarious that he’d ended up on the other side of the camera, but she could have done without the extra business.

“It’s like a war zone,” one of the journalists had observed earlier in the evening and given that he’d worked in an actual war zone at one point, no one was about to argue with him. “No wonder you’re short-staffed. Aren’t you ever tempted to ditch the whole thing and retrain in dermatology?”

Katie hadn’t answered. She was tempted by a whole lot of things, and it was starting to unsettle her.

Medicine was her life. She’d decided to be a doctor the night Rosie had her first asthma attack. Their father had been away. Katie had been too young to be left alone, so she’d gone to the hospital, too.

She’d been fascinated by the beeping machines, the soft hiss of the oxygen and the skilled hands of the doctor whose ministrations had helped her little sister breathe again.

At eighteen she’d gone to medical school. More than a decade later, she was still working her way up the ladder as a doctor. She liked her colleagues, she loved the feeling that she was doing good, but lately that feeling didn’t come as often as it once had. She wanted to do more for her patients, but time and resources were in short supply. She was becoming increasingly frustrated by the limitations of the job, and starting to question whether it was right for her.

The time to ask herself that question would have been twelve years ago, not now.

She turned away from Mike.

A junior doctor was hovering, waiting to discuss a case with her but before she could open her mouth the drunken head injury arrived. The man was covered in blood and bellowing like a wounded animal.

It was another hour before she was finally able to visit the break room, and she grabbed a protein bar and a cup of coffee while she checked her phone.

She had three missed calls from her sister. In the middle of the night?

She gulped down the last of the bar and dialed, calming herself with the knowledge that her sister was perfectly capable of calling in the middle of the night to say she’d taken up ballet or decided to run a marathon.

Please let that be all it is.

If something had happened to her sister, that would be the end of her.

“Rosie?” She tossed the wrapper in the bin. “Are you in hospital?”

“For crying out loud, can’t a girl call her family without everyone assuming I’m in hospital? What is wrong with you people?”

Relief flooded through her. “If you’re going to call your family at four in the morning then you can expect that kind of reaction.” Katie decided to give her feet five minutes’ rest and kicked off her shoes. “So is this a catch-up call?” She eyed the chair but decided that if she sat down in it she might never get up again.

“Not exactly. I called because I have big news, and something special to ask you.”

“Big news?” Why, when her sister said those words, did they sound so terrifying? “You’re throwing in your studies and you’re going to travel in Peru?”

Rosie laughed, because there had been a time when she’d considered exactly that. “Guess again.”

With Rosie it could be anything.

“You’ve taken up Irish dancing and you’re moving in with a colony of leprechauns.”

“Wrong again. I’m getting married!”

Katie spilled her coffee, and it splashed across her skirt and her legs. “Shit.”

“I know you’re not the world’s biggest romantic, but I can’t believe you actually said that.”

“It was a reaction to the severe burn I just gave myself, not a reaction to your news.” She never used to swear, but years working in the emergency department had changed that. “You were saying?” She grabbed paper towels and mopped the mess. “Married? Who to?”

“What do you mean ‘who to’? To Dan, of course.”

“Do I know about Dan?” Katie lost track of her sister’s relationships. “Oh wait, I do remember you mentioning him. He’s your latest.”

“Not only my latest, but my last. He’s The One.”

Katie rolled her eyes, relieved it wasn’t a video call. “You thought Callum Parish was ‘The One,’ too.”

“He was my first. You always love your first.”

Katie hadn’t loved her first. Katie had never been in love. She was pretty sure that part of her was faulty.

“What’s his problem?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You always pick men who are going through a hard time. You like to save people.”

“That is not true. And Dan doesn’t have a problem, except perhaps that his future sister-in-law is insane.”

Future sister-in-law? Katie struggled to get her head around it. “If he doesn’t have a problem, why are you marrying him?”

“Because I’m in love!”

Love. A disease with an uncertain prognosis that often struck without warning.

“I’m checking you’re not being pressured into something, that’s all. It’s important that you’re doing it for the right reasons.” Katie couldn’t think of a single reason that made sense, but she was willing to accept her own limitations in that area. Rosie was right. She wasn’t romantic. She didn’t watch romantic movies. She didn’t read romance. She didn’t dream of weddings. She lived a life drenched in reality. She saw plenty of endings, few of them happy.

“Can’t you be pleased for me?”

“I’m your big sister. My job is to protect you.”

“From what?”

“From anything and everything that might harm you. In this case, from yourself. You’re impulsive and very free with your affections. You’re gentle, and frankly adorable, and you’re a target for every lame duck.”

“Dan is not a lame duck.”

“Maybe not, but then you don’t see bad in anyone. And—how can I say this without offending you? You’re not a great judge of men.”

“You’ve offended me. And, by the way, ‘adorable’ makes me sound like a puppy that fell in a puddle. It’s not a compliment for someone on track for an academic career. You never take me seriously. Maybe I’m not a high-flying doctor like you, but I’m at Harvard doing a PhD. Some people are impressed by that.”

“I do take you seriously.” Didn’t she? “And it’s possible to be cute and academic. I know some people are impressed, which is why it’s my job to keep you grounded so that the whole Ivy League thing doesn’t go to your head. And to that end we do need to remember here that you’re studying fairy tales, which basically sums up your entire view of life.” It was a long running family joke, but Katie felt a twinge of guilt as she said it. Maybe she’d made that joke a little too often.

“I’m studying Celtic languages, folklore and myth. Not fairy tales.”

“I know, and I’m proud of you.” Katie softened her tone. She was proud of her sister. “I also love you and want to protect you.”

“I don’t need protecting. I love him, Katie. Dan is—he’s—incredible. He’s funny, he’s kind, he’s so laid-back it’s unbelievable frankly and he kisses like a god. I never thought I could feel this way.”

“You can’t marry a guy because he’s good in bed.” It had been so long since she’d been to bed with anyone, good or otherwise, that she probably wasn’t the best judge of that either.

“That’s all you heard from what I said? It’s so much more than that. He’s perfect for me.”

After dealing with Sally, the alarm bells in Katie’s head were deafening. “No one is perfect. If he seems perfect, it’s either because he’s working hard to hide something, or that you haven’t been with him long enough to see his flaws. Remember Sam.”

“I just told you I’m getting married, and you have to mention Sam? Do you really think it’s good timing?”

“You adored Sam. And, by the way, you thought he was The One, right up until the point you discovered he’d slept with two of your friends.”

“People sometimes behave badly. It’s a fact of life.”

“You’re excusing him?”

“No, but we were at college. People go a little crazy at college.”

“He hurt you, Rosie. You cried so hard it triggered the worst asthma attack you’d ever had. I will never forget that crazy drive to Oxford. And lying to Mum, because you begged me not to tell her.” Her mother knew less than fifty percent of the things that had happened to Rosie since she’d left home. Sometimes Katie felt the burden of that. She saw the unfiltered version of Rosie’s life.

“I didn’t want to worry her. I’ve done more than enough of that in my lifetime.”

“And then there was—what was his name? James. He insisted you paid whenever you were together.”

“He didn’t have much money.”

“He was a leech.” She’d had to lend Rosie money, but she didn’t mention that. It wasn’t about money. It was about judgment.

“Dan is different.” Rosie was stubborn. “You’ll see it the moment you meet him.”

“Great. When can I meet him?” The sooner the better as far as she was concerned. Engagements could be broken, couldn’t they? Relationships ended all the time, particularly Rosie’s.

“That’s why I’m phoning. We’re getting married at Christmas, right here in Aspen. Can you think of anything more romantic? Blue skies and snow.”

“This Christmas? The Christmas that is happening in less than a month? Are you kidding me?”

“Why is everyone so surprised?”

“Because generally you’re given more than a few weeks notice for a wedding and you’ve only known him for a couple of months.” An image of Sally’s bruised, tear-drenched face slid into her brain. There were no signs. No clues. “Does Mum know?”

“I called her first. She was thrilled. So was Dad.”

Katie was fairly sure her mother would have had an anxiety attack. “What’s the hurry? Why not wait a while?”

“Because we don’t want to wait! We want to do this as soon as possible. And I really want you to be there. But don’t bring the doom and gloom.”

“Sorry.” Katie swallowed. The last thing she wanted was to hurt her sister. “It’s been a tough few weeks at work, that’s all. Ignore me. Of course I’ll be at your wedding. You’re not only my sister, you’re my best friend. I wouldn’t miss it for anything. Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive. I know you’re looking out for me.” Rosie’s voice was soft and warm and her generous response made Katie feel worse.

Her sister’s capacity to forgive human frailty was both her strength and her weakness. It made her vulnerable to every loser and user that crossed her path.

Was Dan one of those?

“What’s the plan? Do I have to book somewhere to stay?” The thought of making travel plans drained the last of her energy. “What about Mum and Dad?”

“They’re coming, too, of course. And everything is arranged apart from your flight. Dan’s family own this amazing place in the mountains. It will be the best vacation you’ve ever had.”

Katie had been dreading Christmas. She’d been wondering how she was going to hold it together during all that family time. Usually she loved it. She loved sleeping late and eating her mother’s amazing food. She loved catching up with her dad and hearing about his work. But everything was different now. Her life had changed forever on a dark, rainy night a few weeks before.

And now she felt exhausted. Could she honestly fly to Aspen and put on a happy face?

“When would you want us to fly out?”

“The wedding will be on Christmas Eve, so we thought you should all come a week before so you have time to get to know Dan and his family. Then you can stay over Christmas and fly back before the New Year, or whenever you like. Oh, Katie, I’m so excited! I can’t decide between a horse-drawn sleigh and a husky ride for the guests.”

“Well, don’t ache your brain on my account. I’m perfectly happy walking.”

“They have feet of snow here already. It’s a winter wonderland. You might not find it so easy to walk.”

“Walking is one of the few things I excel at. I’ve had years of practice.”

“I want you to be my bridesmaid. Maid of honor. Call it whatever you like.”

Katie didn’t want to call it anything. Why couldn’t her sister see that this wedding was a massive mistake?

“Are you sure? I’ll probably leave a muddy footprint on your dress. I don’t know much about weddings.” She knew even less about the duties of a maid of honor, but presumably they didn’t include being a killjoy.

“All you have to do is smile and help me out. You’ll be able to resuscitate Mum if she has a panic attack on the plane. I feel bad that I’m ruining her family Christmas. You know how important it is to her to have everyone together. I miss you. We haven’t spoken in ages. I was even starting to wonder if you were avoiding me.”

“That’s ridiculous. Busy, that’s all.”

Tell her what happened to you. Tell her that you feel as if the world is crumbling round you.

Rosie, she knew, would be horrified. Knowing her kind-hearted sister, she’d probably jump on the first plane and fly over.

Katie blinked. She was the one who looked out for Rosie, not the other way around.

She was Rosie’s rock and her support. And never had Rosie needed her support and counsel as much as now.

Right there and then she made a decision.

Forget Christmas. Forget relaxation. Forget figuring out her own issues.

Her first priority was to stop her little sister making a massive mistake that would end in misery.

“I wouldn’t miss the wedding for anything.” She needed to meet Dan in person and figure out a way to save her sister from herself. And if she managed it early on in the week, then they might still all be home in time to spend Christmas in Honeysuckle Cottage.

With luck, her mother would be too focused on Rosie to notice that anything was wrong with Katie. “I can’t wait to be Bridesmaid of Honor, or whatever the correct title is. Don’t dress me in purple polyester, that’s all I ask. I don’t want static shock. And don’t spend too much money.” Because this wedding isn’t happening. She turned as the door opened and Mike walked into the room. “I need to go. I’m at work.”

“I’m proud of you. Katie. I tell everyone my big sister is a doctor.”

Big sister is falling apart.

She was a fraud. “Go. Have fun, but not so much fun you forget your inhalers.”

“Katie—”

“I know. I’m the inhaler police. Party. Live life. I’ll call you tomorrow.” She ended the call and slid her feet back into her shoes.

Mike raised an eyebrow. “Nothing like giving out advice you don’t take yourself. When did you last party and live life?”

“I’m partying in my mind. I’m at a virtual party right now.”

“Does that come with a virtual hangover? Who is getting married?”

“My sister. In less than four weeks.”

“This is the sister who is studying fairy tales?”

Katie winced. “I might have overdone that joke. She’s studying Celtic languages, myth and folklore at a certain Ivy League college. She would claim it contributes to the understanding of the culture and beliefs of society. It has been the subject of many lively arguments round the dinner table. She really is super smart, but I still think of her as my little sister and I overdo the teasing.” She rubbed her forehead with her fingers. “It feels like yesterday I was reading her board books.”

“Big age difference?”

“Ten years. I think my parents had given up on having another child, and then Rosie arrived.”

“And you were hit by a massive dose of sibling jealousy?”

“What?” Katie stared at him. “No. I adored her. Right from the first moment I saw her funny little hairless head.” She thought about Rosie, an adorable toddler, following her everywhere. Rosie in her favorite dinosaur pajamas. Rosie turning blue with an asthma attack. “I confess I might be a tad overprotective, which is why I’m flying to Colorado to meet this guy.”

“You haven’t met him?”

“No. And don’t look at me that way. I’m already freaked out. They’ve known each other a couple of months. What can you know about someone in a few months? What if he’s a gambler, or a narcissist? He could be a psychopath. Maybe a serial killer.”

He leaned against the door and folded his arms. “Dr. Doom. Always the optimist.”

“I am not Dr. Doom. I am Dr. Reality, thanks to the years I’ve spent working here. Having the realities of life under your nose tends to cure optimism. There are no certainties in this life, we both know that.”

“All the more reason to grab the happy moments that come your way.”

“Did you honestly say that? If you get thrown out of medicine, you could write greeting cards.” She finished her coffee and walked to the door.

“Katie—”

“What?” She turned and saw the concerned look on his face.

“Does your family know what happened to you?”

“No, and there’s no reason to tell them.”

“They could give you support.”

“I don’t need support. I’m my own support.” Her parents had done enough supporting in their lives. It was time for them to enjoy their time together.

“Maybe a couple of weeks enjoying outdoor living and breathing in mountain air will be good for you.”

“Maybe.” Blocking out his concerned look, she let the door swing closed behind her.

She didn’t care about outdoor living. She didn’t care about mountain air. She didn’t even care about a white Christmas.

She was flying to Colorado for one reason, and one reason only.

She was going to stop her sister’s wedding.

Maggie

Armed with a strong cup of coffee, Maggie typed Catherine’s name into a search engine.

There were pictures of Dan’s mother at a benefit in Manhattan, slender as a reed, blond hair swept up in a style befitting a red-carpet appearance.

Feeling gloomy, Maggie scrolled through a dozen more images.

Catherine, skiing a near-vertical slope in Aspen.

Catherine, fist in the air in a gesture of triumph as she stood on top of Mount Kilimanjaro, raising money for a charity researching heart disease.

Catherine, rushing to a meeting in a form-fitting black dress with a planner tucked under one arm.

Rosie had told her in an earlier conversation that Catherine’s husband had died suddenly of a heart attack when Dan was in college. The family had been devastated by the loss, but Catherine had forced herself forward.

Maggie enlarged the photo. This woman didn’t look broken. There were no signs of grief or anxiety. Not a frown line. Not a silver hair. How could someone survive such a life blow and look so together? A leading American magazine had run an article on her, entitled “From Tragedy to Triumph.” Maggie read it from beginning to end, learning that Catherine Reynolds had set up the wedding business after she was widowed, turning her skills as a hostess into a commercial venture.

Dan was twenty-eight, which meant that unless she was a medical freak, Catherine had to be at least late forties.

The woman smiling back at her from the screen didn’t look forty.

Maggie fiddled with the ends of her hair. She’d had it cut at the same place for the past thirty years and had kept the style the same. In fact there was very little of her life that she’d changed.

While Catherine had been reinventing herself and starting over, filling her life with new challenges, Maggie’s life had slowly emptied. First Katie had left home, and then Rosie. Her daily calendar, once filled with a whirl of school and sporting commitments, had big gaps. She’d carried on doing what she’d always done, working at her job and tending her garden. She’d been used to cooking for four, but that had turned to three, then two and then, after the life had drained from her marriage, one. Instead of building a new life as Catherine had obviously done, Maggie had carried on living a diluted version of the life she’d always had.

She pushed her laptop to one side and looked at the file that lay open on the table next to her. It was almost full. Soon she wouldn’t be able to close it.

Reading about Catherine’s determined fight to reinvent herself made her feel pathetic and useless. Catherine had lost her husband in a tragic way. Maggie had lost hers through carelessness. Or was it apathy? She didn’t even know.

Maggie couldn’t shake off the feeling that she’d somehow wasted her marriage.

Part of the reason she hadn’t yet shared the news with the girls was that she hadn’t managed to absorb it herself.

Should she and Nick have tried harder?

Conscious that she’d wasted an hour depressing herself, Maggie closed the file and tucked it into a drawer out of sight. She didn’t want Nick to see it, or it would trigger a conversation she didn’t want to have.

Next she closed her favorite Christmas recipe book that had been open on the table for the past week and slid it back into its slot on the shelf. She wasn’t going to be needing it after all.

It was embarrassing to admit it, but she’d been planning Christmas in her mind since September and making lists since October. The first hint of winter in the air had her thinking of slow-cooked casseroles, hearty soups and roasted root vegetables. She’d been looking forward to the festive season for the comfort of its culinary rituals; stirring, simmering, baking in a warm cinnamon-scented fog. Most of all she’d been looking forward to the time she’d get to spend with her family.

She curled her hands around her mug and stared through the window into the garden while she sipped her coffee. Frost sparkled and shimmered on the lawn and a layer of mist added an ethereal touch. At this time of year the only splash of color in her garden came from the holly bush, its berries bloodred and plump. Maggie had been hoping the birds would leave enough for her to use as decoration around the house, but it no longer mattered.

She wasn’t going to need berries. Nor was she going to need the mistletoe that grew in clusters on the ancient apple tree. She wasn’t going to be here for Christmas.

She’d already had her last Christmas in Honeysuckle Cottage and hadn’t even known.

She’d never been away for the holidays before. Never had a Christmas that she hadn’t owned. She had friends who delighted in “escaping” at Christmas so that they could avoid the craziness, but Maggie loved the craziness. What would Christmas look like without that?

And why was she worrying about Christmas, when the real issue here was Rosie’s wedding? What was wrong with her?

She checked the time.

Nick had said he’d be with her at eleven and it was now half past. Since he was invariably late for things, including their wedding, that wasn’t a surprise. In the past it had infuriated her that he was fluent in Classical Greek but couldn’t seem to communicate what time he would arrive home. He could read hieroglyphic but not, apparently, a watch or a simple text message.

To begin with it hadn’t mattered. She’d loved his passion, and the fact that he was so focused on the things he loved. What he lacked in reliability, he made up for in spontaneity. One day he’d be brandishing two tickets to a concert at the Sheldonian Theatre, the next a picnic which they’d devoured by the river watching sunlight dance over the surface of the water. Nick had uncovered the fun side of Maggie. For her that was as much of a discovery as Tutankhamen’s tomb. She was the child of older parents who took their responsibilities seriously and invested everything in her development and education. Earning their love had been exhausting, and it was an uncomfortable, stressful relationship. Having fun hadn’t been part of her life until she’d met Nick in her first few weeks at Oxford.

He’d been studying Egyptology, and she English. His reputation and academic career had bloomed. They’d stayed in Oxford, and she’d taken a job with an academic publisher and spent her days editing textbooks. If it had ever crossed her mind that she didn’t love her job the way Nick loved his, she ignored the thought.

And then Katie was born and the strength of her emotion and the power of the bond she’d felt had shocked her. Maggie had loved fiercely, and discovered that her passion was for her children, her husband, her family. For creating a home like the one she’d dreamed of living in herself.

Katie’s arrival gave her the perfect excuse to reduce her working hours. She’d ended up taking responsibility for the childcare simply because she enjoyed it more than she enjoyed working.

When Katie had started school, Maggie returned to work for the same publisher but once Rosie arrived she’d taken a second career break. Her youngest daughter had been born premature, a tiny fragile being weighing less than a bag of sugar. As a baby Rosie had suffered endless coughs and colds, and then came her first asthma attack.

Maggie had never forgotten it. After that, they’d happened regularly, and life became a series of sleepless nights and panicked journeys to the hospital.

For the first decade of Rosie’s life, Maggie had walked around in a fog of exhaustion.

They’d moved out of the center of Oxford and into Honeysuckle Cottage, hoping that the air pollution would be less than it was in the middle of the city. Tests showed dog hair to be a trigger which meant that they’d been unable to have the family dog that Nick had badly wanted.

Rosie’s childhood had been a roundabout of canceled plans and terrifying sprints to the hospital. Then she hit the teenage years and it became harder to control. It wasn’t “cool” to carry an inhaler, and denying her condition landed her in the hospital on far too many occasions. The tension of it affected all of them, as did the general ignorance from their friends and acquaintances who had always thought of asthma as being something mild and benign.

Maggie remembered the day Katie had stomped into the kitchen and slammed her books down on the table.

I’m going to be a doctor, because then I can cure Rosie.

Maggie had often felt guilty that most of her time and attention was focused on her youngest daughter, but Katie hadn’t seemed to be affected. She was a bright, fiercely determined child who had grown into a bright, fiercely determined adult. She’d set herself goals, and lists of things to do to achieve those goals. Unlike Nick and Rosie who made decisions based on impulse and emotion, Katie never did anything she hadn’t thought through.

She’d gone from being a hardworking child to a hardworking adult. Now she was a dedicated and talented doctor and Maggie was proud of her.

Unlike Rosie, who veered from one thing to the next, Katie always knew exactly what she wanted and never wavered.

The sound of the doorbell cut through her thoughts and she walked to the door and opened it.

Nick stood there. His long wool coat was one he’d had for years. He wore it with the collar turned up and his favorite scarf wrapped round his neck. He gave her that same crooked smile that had snagged her attention all those years before and she felt a rush of sadness. Where had their love gone? There had been no great falling-out. No clandestine affairs or flirtations. She’d tried repeatedly to identify when her marriage had malfunctioned, but had been unable to pinpoint a specific event. She and Nick had lived parallel lives and then drifted apart so gradually neither of them had noticed, until one day they’d simply been unable to connect the way they once had.

Even their decision to part had been mutual and amicable.

Sometimes she wondered if they’d simply lost each other under the pressure of being a family.

Despite everything, she felt relief that he was here. She needed to talk to someone. Anyone. She opened the door wider. “You’ve lost your key again?”

“For once, no, but I didn’t feel comfortable using it. This isn’t my house anymore.” He hesitated and then stepped over the threshold.

“It’s still your house, Nick. We bought it together and when we sell it we’ll share the proceeds. You have a right to walk in whenever you like.” No part of her was screeching change the locks. Why would she?

“I don’t want to intrude.” He glanced at the stairs and she gave a half laugh as she realized he was respecting her privacy.

“You think there’s a Christmas elf hiding under my bed? Santa? Some muscular young guy?”

Another serious relationship wasn’t on her wish list. As for anything more superficial, well, the thought of an affair was ludicrous.

“It’s cold in here.” Nick touched the radiator closest to him. “Broken again?”

“It waits for the first hint of frost to malfunction.” As usual she was wearing two sweaters, which made her look heavier than she was.

“Do you want me to call someone?” He didn’t offer to look at it himself. Nick could hold a lecture hall spellbound, but he couldn’t fix a dripping tap and was bemused by flat pack furniture.

“I’ve already done it. They’re coming next Monday.”

“You look tired.”

“That generally happens when someone calls you at three in the morning.” She knew Nick probably would have gone straight back to sleep. His ability to sleep, no matter what the crisis, had been a source of envy and frustration over the years. She would have given anything to be able to switch off and let someone else take responsibility for five minutes. Maybe it was because he knew she couldn’t that he’d been able to switch off himself, soothed by the knowledge that she was in charge.

“Rosie shouldn’t have called you in the middle of the night.”

“She was excited. She wanted to share her news. And I’m pleased. She might be living miles away, but I still want to be part of her life.”

“But middle of the night calls always scare you. I’m sure you answered in a panic, assuming she was having an attack. Not easy to go back to sleep after that.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Sit down. I’ll make coffee and then we’ll book flights.”

“Oh.” Her stomach gave a lurch. “What’s the rush?”

“The wedding is happening in a little over three weeks. We’ll be lucky to get seats as it is.” Nick ground beans and made two cups. The machine had been their indulgence, a mutual gift that kept delivering when stress piled upon stress. Coffee had become a shared habit during those early, sleep-deprived years and it had stuck. They both drank it black, mostly because they’d been too tired to reach for the milk. “Then there’s the fact that if I give you time to think about it, you’ll find a reason not to do it.”

She took the coffee gratefully, knowing he was right.

“I have to do it. I’m not going to miss Rosie’s wedding.”

“In that case, we need to book.” He put the cup on the table and unwound his scarf.

The scarf had traveled the world with him. It had protected him from sandstorms and dust storms and he refused to be parted from it or have it replaced. It fascinated her that someone so clever could think a scarf could bring luck. She couldn’t understand how someone with his brain could think there was something magical about a wool/cotton mix.

“I can’t believe Rosie is getting married. She’s so young.” She was desperate to talk to someone about it. Nick might not have been her first choice, but as he was the only candidate for her confidences, he won.

“Twenty-two.” He spooned sugar into his coffee. “If this were ancient Egypt, she would have been married a decade ago.”

Comments like that, Maggie thought, were why a woman needed girlfriends.

Sometimes she wanted to lift up the nearest frying pan and clock his clever, but somehow still clueless, brain.

“This isn’t ancient Egypt.” Sometimes his head was so deep in his studies, she was convinced he’d forgotten that. “And we haven’t even met him.”

“Well, we’re not the ones marrying him. As long as she likes him, that’s all that matters.”

“Likes him?” Sometimes she despaired. “They’ve barely spent any time together. And it’s all been heady, romantic good times. That’s not real. That’s not what marriage is.” Marriage was holding tightly to each other as you stumbled over rough ground. Marriage was never letting go.

She and Nick had let go.

He stirred his coffee slowly. “Maybe it should be. Maybe there should be more of those romantic good times.”

What was that supposed to mean? Was it a dig at her? “Life happens, Nick. Someone has to handle it.”

“Woah—” He sent her a startled look. “What did I say?”

“You were implying that I was so busy looking after the practical side, I forgot to be romantic.”

“I wasn’t implying anything.” He put the spoon down. “You know I don’t think that way. I don’t go for hidden messages, or subtext or any of those other complex ways of communicating. I was simply saying that romantic, heady times can be real, too.”

Was she overreacting? “All I’m saying is that they’re still in the dizzy whirlwind stage. They’re not arguing about who is going to change a lightbulb or cook dinner. They haven’t had to cope with things going wrong. We both know there will be challenges. That’s life. They barely know each other. I’m worried this is the wrong decision.”

“If it’s the wrong decision, then it’s their wrong decision.” He took a sip of coffee. “And people who know everything there is to know about each other can get divorced, too.”

She felt herself flush. “I know that, obviously, but—oh, never mind.”

This was often how a discussion between them ended, with her giving up. It hadn’t always been that way. At the beginning, they’d talked about everything but somewhere along the way that had stopped. Conversations had gone from deep to shallow and practical.

Can you pick up Rosie’s prescription on the way home?

At some point she’d stopped sharing with him and it occurred to her now that she had so many thoughts and emotions that he knew nothing about. She’d never told him she sometimes felt inferior next to him, even though she knew deep down that she wasn’t. She felt, somehow, that she’d forgotten how to be her.

She remembered attending a parents’ evening where the teacher had said oh you’re Katie and Rosie’s mother as if that somehow became an identity. At the time it hadn’t bothered her because she was their mother. And she was Nick’s wife.

Who else was she? Lately that question had started to trouble her.

Nick put his mug down on the table. “You’re upset.”

“A little, yes. I’ve been looking forward to Christmas for so long. I brought the decorations down from the attic last week, and the cake is made—” She finished her coffee. “Ignore me. Christmas is just a day. We can all get together some other time.”

Nick frowned. “We’ll all be together in Aspen, but we both know that’s not why you’re upset.”

She put her cup on the counter. “What do you mean?”

“You’re not upset because of Christmas. You’re upset because our Rosie is marrying an American. You’re thinking that she might choose to live there permanently. Have kids there. Grow old there.”

Maggie felt as if someone had punched the air from her lungs.

She’d been trying not to think about that. She hadn’t allowed herself to think about that part of the equation.

She’d kept her thinking short term. Christmas. That was about all she could handle. But Nick was right. Deep down that had been her fear from the moment Rosie had made her announcement.

Maybe he knew her better than she thought he did.

She felt a surge of emotion that felt almost like grief. When Rosie had moved to the US to study it had shaken her, but she’d told herself that it was only a short-term thing. Not for a moment had she considered the move might be permanent.

“I feel as if I’ve lost her.” She wasn’t going to cry. That would be ridiculous. All that mattered was Rosie’s health and happiness. “You probably think I’m the most selfish mother on the planet, wishing she’d come home.”

“I don’t think you’re selfish. I think you’re a great mother, you always have been. Perhaps a little too good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You put those girls ahead of everything else.”

“You make it sound like a sacrifice, but it wasn’t. I loved being there for our girls. If I had my time again I wouldn’t change a thing.” Some people had big dreams and big goals, but Maggie enjoyed the smaller things. The first buds appearing on the apple tree, the soft scratch of pen on paper as Katie had done her homework at the kitchen table, the scent of fresh laundry, the joy of the first cup of coffee of the day, and the sheer pleasure of a book that transported her to another life and another place.

But it was true that taking two career breaks had narrowed her choices. And then there was the fact that she’d built up goodwill with the publishing house where she worked. Because they trusted her to get her work done, they were flexible when she needed time off to care for Rosie. Worried that a new employer might not offer the same latitude, she’d felt it safer to stay where she was.

She looked closely at Nick and noticed the fine lines around his eyes. He looked tired.

“Have you eaten?”

She knew he sometimes forgot, and judging from the sheepish expression on his face this was one of those occasions.

“No. I forgot to shop, so I thought I’d grab something in college.”

“I’ll make you something if you have time to eat it.”

“I always have time for anything you cook.” He stood up. “What can I do to help?”

She gaped at him. “That’s the first time you’ve ever said that.”

“That’s not true. I clean up after you. I am a champion cleaner-upper.”

“But you don’t usually help with the cooking part.”

“Because you’re so good at it. Also, you never let me near the kitchen.”

Was that true? Probably. She’d wanted and needed something that was all hers. Something she could excel at and own.

Plenty of people would have rolled their eyes at her apparent lack of work ambition, but Maggie didn’t care. She’d been there when the girls had taken their first steps. She’d taught them both to read. Never once had she felt that what she was doing was anything less than valuable.

It was only in the past couple of years that she’d started to feel dissatisfied.

She envied people whose life looked exactly the way they wanted it to look. People like Nick and Katie, who had a passion and followed it. Even Rosie seemed to know the path she wanted to take.

Maggie felt as if she’d strolled randomly through life with no map.

“If you want to help, you could fetch eggs from the fridge.” She pulled a large bowl out of the cupboard and a whisk from the drawer.

When he put the eggs next to her she selected six and broke them into the bowl while he watched.

“The last omelet I made was crunchy.”

She tried not to smile. “Generally, it’s best not to include the shell.”

“Ah, so that’s the secret. I knew there had to be one.”

She snipped fresh herbs from the pots she nurtured on her windowsill and added them to the mixture, then she poured half into the hot pan, waiting as it sizzled.

“It isn’t only about me. I worry about her.”

“You have to stop protecting her, Mags.”

“The day I stop protecting my child is never going to come.”

“You know what I mean. She knows she will always have our love and support, but we have to let her live her life the way she chooses to live it.”

“Even if that life is a million miles away?”

“That’s an exaggeration.”

“It might as well be that far.” She lifted the edges of the omelet and when she was satisfied she folded it perfectly. “Life can be tough, we both know that. You need family around you. What if she does settle there? What if they break up? What happens if they don’t break up, and have babies? I’d want to be able to help, but I won’t be close enough.”

“Wait—you’re worrying you might not be able to help with the baby they don’t have yet? You expend a huge amount of energy worrying about things that haven’t happened.”

“I don’t expect you to understand.” She slid the omelet onto a plate, sprinkled it with a few chopped chives and handed it to him. “All I’m saying is that it will be tough to support them from here.”

He put the plate on the table and sat down. “This looks delicious, thanks.” He picked up a fork. “And as for support, maybe they’ll live close to Dan’s mother.”

Why didn’t that make her feel better? Her mind raced ahead. Catherine was already arranging her daughter’s wedding, and there was every chance she’d be the favored grandmother. Maggie would be the stranger they saw a few times a year.

Who’s that, kids? No, it’s not a stranger, it’s your granny. Give her a hug and a kiss.

She imagined them recoiling, screwing up their faces as they tolerated a kiss from this semistranger.

A lump formed in her throat.

She wanted to tell Nick how it had made her feel, but she couldn’t find a way to say it that didn’t make her seem horribly small-minded. And maybe she was being ridiculous. Worrying about things that hadn’t happened. She did that a lot.

She poured the rest of the egg mixture into the pan, even though she didn’t have much of an appetite.

“Talking of tough stuff,” Nick said, “we need to fix a time to tell the girls the truth about us.”

“We can’t tell them yet, Nick.”

“Why not?” He took a forkful of fluffy omelet. “Neither of us has had an affair, we don’t hate each other, we don’t have any issues being in the same room. We’ll still be able to meet up at family gatherings and it won’t be awkward. Not much will change.”

Was he serious?

“Everything will change. We’re their parents, Nick! They see us as a unit. And maybe family gatherings will be amicable for a while, but in time you’ll meet someone. Then you’ll be bringing someone else and we’ll have to take turns and—”

He put his fork down. “Maybe you’ll be the one who meets someone.”

Where? How? She almost asked the questions aloud and then realized how sad they made her sound. She needed to build a new life. One that didn’t have Nick in it. She needed to join a choir, or learn Italian, or something. Anything.

After the wedding, she promised herself. After the wedding, she’d pull herself together. First she’d spruce up the house, then put it on the market and find somewhere smaller.

The idea of selling Honeysuckle Cottage made her feel physically ill. All the best parts of her life had happened here. Nick. Katie. Rosie. She still remembered the day they’d moved in. Nick, ducking his head to avoid the low beams. Fixing a gate across the stairs so that Rosie didn’t tumble down them. And hours spent in the garden, shaping it into the tranquil haven it was now.

There had been tough times, but the place was full of laughter and memories. All those things would be erased when someone else moved in. They’d see a dent in the wall and think it needed fixing. They wouldn’t smile, remembering that was where Rosie had ridden her bike into the wall on that Christmas morning when it had been raining too hard to go outdoors.

A new story would be written into these walls.

But that wasn’t her immediate concern.

“Hear me out.” She tipped her omelet onto a plate and grabbed a fork. “Whether it turns out to be a mistake or not, this is Rosie’s big day. This is all about her and Dan. A celebration. What do you think it will do to the mood if we announce our divorce at the same time?”

“If we do it today, then it won’t be at the same time. She’ll have had time to get over it.”

“This isn’t flu, Nick. You don’t ‘get over it.’ A divorce changes the landscape of our family. We all have to find a new way to be together. To fit. It’s going to be a massive adjustment.” Saying it aloud somehow made it all the more depressing. “And today she is going to choose her wedding dress. It wouldn’t be appropriate to spoil her day.”

“Divorce is part of life. Life happens. Wasn’t that the point you were making earlier?”

“It doesn’t have to happen before what is supposed to be one of the happiest days of our daughter’s life.” She forced down a mouthful of her breakfast and then put her plate down.

“So what are you suggesting?”

“That we act as if nothing has changed.”

“You—” He broke off, bemused. “You want us to attend this wedding together as a couple? Pretending everything is fine?”

“Yes. We present a united front. There will be plenty of time to share our less-than-happy news once the wedding bells have stopped ringing and the snow has melted.”

“To be clear about this, you’re suggesting we ‘act’ married?”

“Well, technically we are married, Nick, so it shouldn’t be much of a challenge to pretend for one week.”

His gaze was steady. “You want us to travel together, share a hotel room—”

“Whatever it takes.” She wasn’t going to offer to relinquish the bed. Nick could sleep anywhere, whether it was a tent in a desert or the hard floor of a hotel room. Maggie could barely doze off if she was lying on a feather-filled mattress, so she didn’t need to make things harder for herself. “It will be easy enough to keep up the pretense. It’s not as if we argue all the time or anything.”

He pushed his plate away. “It doesn’t feel right to lie to them.”

“We’re not lying. We’re withholding our news. We haven’t told them we’ve been living apart for a while. What difference does it make to wait a few more weeks?”

“We haven’t told them because we agreed it was better done face-to-face when we’re all together.”

“You seriously think the right time to announce a divorce is at our daughter’s wedding?”

He sighed. “No, I don’t think that.” There was a long pause. “All right.” The words were dragged from him. “But as soon as they’re back from their honeymoon, we’re telling them.”

“Agreed.” She felt a rush of relief which died as he reached across and dragged her laptop toward him.

“What’s this?”

Why, oh why, hadn’t she closed the browser? “I was finding out a bit about the family.”

He lifted his gaze from the laptop to her face. “You mean you’ve been torturing yourself.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You’re the same before every college social event. You panic about what you’re going to wear and what people will think of you.”

“That’s called being human.”

“You’re lovely, Maggie.” His voice was rough. “I wish you had more confidence.”

She was a soon-to-be-divorced mother of two grown children who didn’t particularly like the way her life was looking. She thought about the file, safely tucked away in the drawer.

What did she have to feel confident about?

And if he thought she was so lovely, why were they getting divorced?

He tapped the keys and brought up airline details.

“How are we going to transport all the Christmas gifts?” She picked up her coffee and sat down next to him. “I won’t be able to carry everything.”

“Take a few key things, and they can have the rest next time they’re here.”

“I always make them a stocking. And I can’t imagine a tree without all the decorations the girls made over the years. It’s tradition.”

“So pack them up and bring them.” He glanced up from the screen, seemed about to say something and then changed his mind. “We’ll pay for excess baggage if necessary.”

Excess baggage. He could have been describing her.

“I can’t pack our decorations. That would be ridiculous.” She watched, anxious, as he keyed in dates and checked prices. “Is the flight overbooked?”

“I’m sure you’d like it to be but no, there are two seats left on the early flight. Business class.” He dug into his pocket for his wallet.

“Nick, we can’t fly business class.”

“Why not? We deserve a treat.”

Flying? A treat? The reality of strapping herself into a seat on an airplane and waiting for takeoff loomed in her brain. Her heart started to pound. “It’s an extravagance.”

“I know you’re scared of flying, but if I don’t book this now you won’t be going to your daughter’s wedding.”

Maggie moaned and put her head on the table. “How did Christmas turn into this?”

“They give you free champagne in business. I’ll pour a bottle of that into you before we take off. You won’t feel a thing.”

Maggie lifted her head. “What did you say to Rosie?”

“Last night? I can’t recall. You know me. I’m not as good at bouncing awake as you are. It takes me a while to surface. I hope I said the right things.”

What were the right things? She wasn’t sure. Should she have issued a warning or said congratulations? “She’s so young.”

“We were young.”

She was tempted to say and look at how that turned out, but she stopped herself.

Even though it had ended, their marriage hadn’t been a disaster. Believing that would mean the entire previous thirty-five years had been a mistake, and it hadn’t been. They’d had many happy years which was, perhaps, why she felt so sad about everything. It was messy, but life was messy wasn’t it? Full of good and bad, ups and downs, triumph and disappointment.

Part of her felt that somehow, they should have been able to make this work.

“Your mother tried to stop us getting married. She was very disapproving. She thought I was too serious.”

“She’d never seen you after a bottle of sloe gin, and I’ve told you before that she never approved of any of the women I dated. She was afraid they’d take her little boy away.” He stretched out his legs. “Yours wasn’t much better.”

“They wanted me to marry someone with a regular job. They were suspicious of your trips to Egypt, and the fact that your hair fell over your collar. It all seems so long ago, I can barely remember it although it was stressful at the time.”

“We did what felt right for us. We didn’t listen to our parents and Rosie and Dan won’t listen to us either, so there’s no point in wondering whether we should say something. We made our own decision, and now we should leave our daughter to make hers.”

“That’s very mature and rational.” She topped up their mugs and sat down next to him. “Talking of mature and rational, I spoke to someone about selling the cottage last week. I was thinking we should put it on the market after Christmas, but their advice was to wait until spring. That would give us time to do some of the repairs, and make sure it’s looking its best. The garden is always gorgeous in May.” It should be. She’d spent hours on it. It was something that was all hers. Somewhere she felt calm. Whenever she was stressed, she went outdoors and tended the garden. The upside of her anxiety was that her garden looked fantastic.

Nick spooned sugar into his coffee and gave her a long look. “You’re sure you want to sell the place?”

No, she didn’t want to sell it. Selling it would break her heart. “It’s too big for one person. I’m rattling around here. And not only me. The windows rattle. There’s so much maintenance needed in an old place like this.”

“Remember the first time we saw it? You said this is it. This is the one. We hadn’t even taken a look inside.”

“I knew. I knew right away.” She glanced around the kitchen that had been the set for so many family dramas. “You thought a new build would be less work.”

“It would have been less work, but also would have lacked character.”

“I’m starting to think ‘character’ is a euphemism for ‘old and in need of repair.’ So you’re happy for me to put it on the market whenever they feel the time is right?”

His gaze was veiled. “Whatever works for you.”

They were so polite. Civilized. There was no awkwardness or animosity. They were simply two friends who had lost the chemistry. She stared hard at his jaw, at the curve between his neck and shoulder where she’d so often rested her head. When he’d come back from a long trip it had been like those early days of their relationship, the passion between them intense and all-consuming.

Where had those feelings gone?

She stood up suddenly, her chair scraping on the stone floor. “That’s what I’ll do, then. It’s been a lovely home for us, but it’s time to move on.” Time for her to move on, too. This place was so full of memories they almost suffocated her.

“On to practical matters—” he finished his coffee “—I’ll book a cab to the airport. All you need to do is pack a suitcase. This could be fun, Mags.”

“The flight?”

“Christmas in Colorado.”

Maybe she wasn’t very adventurous, because all she really wanted was Christmas at home. She’d wanted one more year of lighting a fire in the hearth and decorating a large tree.

Next year she’d be living in a small apartment, or maybe a small Victorian terrace. Would Nick even join them, or would he have the girls on a different day? Whichever way it turned out, she knew that no Christmas gathering would ever be the same again.

“You should look at the website. Aspen looks beautiful. It’s surrounded by forest and snowy mountains. When did we last have a proper white Christmas?”

Maggie thought about the Christmas cards half-written in her bedroom. “Snow might be nice.”

“And for the first time ever you might be able to relax and enjoy yourself. You won’t have to do the cooking.”

Maggie loved cooking. She loved slicing and dicing, stirring and tasting. She loved the craziness and the chaos of the kitchen at Christmas. The sound of the fridge door opening and closing. The smell of toast as someone made a late-night snack.

It was the empty silence she hated most.

The knowledge that no one in the world really needed her anymore.

The girls loved her, she knew that, but they didn’t need her. They were adults now, with their own lives.

Did she even have a purpose?

She still worked for the same publisher and she knew she was valued, so why didn’t she get more satisfaction from her job?

Gloom descended on her and suddenly she wished Nick would leave. His life hadn’t changed much. His days were still filled with work, lectures, students, research. The only thing that had altered for him was where he slept at night.

She became brisk and practical, as she always did when she was stressed. “We’re agreed we’ll delay telling them until after Christmas?”

“Yes, but I’m not much of an actor. What if they guess?”

“Then it’s up to us to make sure they don’t. We were married for more than three decades. I think we can manage to get through ten days.”

She hoped she wasn’t wrong about that. They could make it work, surely?

How hard was it to pretend to be in love?

They were both about to find out.

Rosie

Was she making an awful, dreadful, hideous mistake?

What if Katie was right?

Rosie stood in the fitting room of the expensive bridal boutique in downtown Aspen, clutching a dress she no longer wanted to try on.

It was true that none of her previous relationships had exactly been long lasting, but wasn’t that part of being young and growing up? How were you supposed to know a relationship was right if you hadn’t stumbled through a few wrong ones first?

But Katie was right that those relationships had all seemed right at the time.

You, she told her ref lection in the mirror, are impetuous, impulsive and a walking disaster.

As a child she’d flitted from one passion to another like a bee searching for nectar. When she was eight, she’d wanted to be a ballerina. At nine, an astronaut. By the age of ten she’d turned to teaching and lined up her dolls in classroom style. And so it went on. She couldn’t help it. She became wildly enthusiastic about something, and then moved on.

Her track record with boyfriends looked much the same.

And now there was Dan who she loved totally and absolutely. But it was true they hadn’t known each other that long.

Did that matter?

She was beginning to wish she hadn’t called her sister. But how could she not have called her?

“How does it look?” Catherine’s excitement penetrated the door. “I think it might be the one. The moment I laid eyes on it, I knew it was perfect. I can’t wait to see it on you, and I can’t wait to see Dan’s face when he sees you wearing it! Oh, I think this might be the best day of my life.”

It was turning into the worst day of hers.

Rosie wanted to claw her way out of the room. “I’m still changing, Catherine.”

“Do you need help, honey? I can—”

“I’m fine, but thank you.” She closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall. What was she going to do? She needed to get her head back into the place it had been before that phone call. Either that or press pause on the whole thing. But how could she step off this runaway train without seriously injuring all those involved? This wasn’t a night class (she’d switched from French to Italian after a term) where she could rethink her options.

Why did Katie’s comments have so much influence on her?

She was old enough to make her own decisions, independent of her sister.

Catherine tapped on the door. “If you’re worried about the price, don’t be. This is my special gift to a special woman. It’s not every day your precious only son gets married. I can’t wait to welcome you officially to the Reynolds family. My Dan is a lucky, lucky young man.”

Rosie pressed her hands to her ears to try to block out the sound of Katie’s voice. She adored her older sister, but part of her was angry that she’d injected doubts. Why couldn’t she have been happy and supportive?

She needed space to think, and she couldn’t think while she was trying on a wedding dress.

She glanced around the fitting room for an escape hatch. Surely she couldn’t be the first bride-to-be to wonder if she was making a mistake? Why didn’t they cater for that type of thing? She slid her fingers down the edge of a mirror, hoping it was secretly a door, but all she saw was her own panicked ref lection staring back at her.

When Dan had said all those things during Thanksgiving dinner, and then proposed in front of his whole family she’d been deliriously happy. She’d never felt about anyone the way she felt about Dan. The last few months had been the happiest of her life. She adored her family, but they still treated her as someone who needed protecting. Was she using her inhaler? Had she had an attack? Their anxiety had fueled her anxiety. Moving far away had been the best thing she’d ever done. Terrifying, of course, and to begin with she’d been homesick, but the freedom had more than compensated. She’d felt stronger. More capable and independent. She made decisions without everyone questioning her. And then she’d met Dan, who had made her feel stronger still. She’d been so sure of her feelings for him, it hadn’t occurred to her to question whether saying yes to his proposal was a good idea. And then there was the love in his eyes and the fact that the fourteen people seated around the table had already made up their minds that this was a great idea.

Of course she’ll say yes, his paternal grandmother had whispered to her sister, who had been in full agreement.

Who wouldn’t want to marry our Dan?

It had seemed a reasonable question to Rosie.

Who wouldn’t?

Their delight at the proposal simply endorsed her conviction that this was the right thing. And why wouldn’t it be? Everyone thought Dan was wonderful. She thought Dan was wonderful. He was the best listener, and there were times when she felt closer to him than she did to her own family. She’d said things to him that she’d never said to them, including how hard it was to push herself to take risks when people were constantly telling her to be careful. And he’d talked to her about the loss of his father, and how deeply it had affected him. True, they didn’t know the small details about each other’s lives, but the small details were less important than the big things. She’d assumed they’d have plenty of time to learn more about each other, but then his mother had suggested a Christmas wedding and excitement levels had escalated.

Rosie felt as if she’d been picked up by an avalanche and swept down the mountain.

She’d wondered herself if Christmas might be a little soon, but only because the logistics of arranging something at such short notice blew her brain. Organization wasn’t her strong point. She had nine thousand, four hundred and twenty emails sitting in her inbox because she never liked deleting anything and filing didn’t come naturally to her. Her essays were often finished at the last minute, and doctor, dentist and hair appointments always ended up being an emergency.

She’d opened her mouth to tactfully confess that there was no way she could organize a wedding in such a short time frame, but Dan’s family was already in deep planning mode. She’d half expected Catherine to leave the room and start whipping together a bouquet.

Rosie was already in love with Dan’s family, particularly his great-aunt Eunice whose hearing was now challenged but who filled in gaps in sentences with her own active imagination.

Did she say she’s feeling horny?

No, Great-Aunt Eunice, she said the table decoration was thorny.

And then Dan had kissed her and said how much he adored her and how this wedding was going to be magical and perfect and suddenly it was agreed that they were getting married in a month.

It had all seemed delightful, and then she’d called home and felt the waves of anxiety traveling across the Atlantic with the speed of light. Their doubt had penetrated the champagne cloud cushioning Rosie’s brain.

And it wasn’t only Katie. Her mother was worried, and Rosie hated worrying her mother.

She’d caused her family more than enough anxiety over the years, and she was uncomfortable with the idea that they all thought she was making a mistake. It made her question her own judgment. Gone was the confident woman she’d become over the past few months.

She was sure she loved Dan, but how did you actually know? It wasn’t as if there was a blood test you could take. No one was going to sit across from her in a white coat and say yes, you have high levels of love, so I can assure you you’re going to be fine.

Love was a feeling, and if Rosie had learned one thing during her time on the planet it was that feelings were unreliable. Hers certainly were. The fact that her life was filled with clothes she never wore, shoes too uncomfortable to walk in, and old boyfriends that she never called was proof of that.

What if her love for Dan turned out to be as transient as her love for Rollerblading?

Trying to pull herself together, she wriggled her way into the dress Catherine had chosen.

Ivory silk and beautifully cut, it fell in a simple sheath and pooled on the floor.

Rosie turned sideways and smoothed the fabric over her hips.

The woman had taste, there was no doubt about that. The dress looked incredible. So incredible that her doubts retreated. It was a good omen.

Nerves were natural, weren’t they?

She tried to imagine her and Dan growing old together and Katie apologizing as she turned up to celebrate their golden wedding.

Look at the two of you! I was so wrong.

“Rosie?” There was another tap on the door. “Can we see you in it, honey?”

Rosie took a last look at her ref lection and opened the door.

Catherine gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my—”

The seamstress who had been standing ready to suggest alterations, gaped. “Oh my—”

Rosie did the obligatory twirl, the aftereffects of the previous night’s champagne making her head spin. Note to self—hangover pirouettes are not a good idea.

“You’re beautiful, honey.” Catherine’s eyes filled. “You can try on as many as you like, of course, but I honestly think this one is perfect. How about you? Are you having doubts?”

Rosie looked at herself. The dress was gorgeous. Classic. Flattering.

Definitely an omen.

“I love it.” She wasn’t having doubts about the dress. She was having doubts about the wedding, and those doubts were multiplying in her head like a virus.

Only last week he’d mentioned that he adored dogs and she’d thought I’m allergic to dogs. She hadn’t said anything. There were plenty of small things they hadn’t shared and it hadn’t bothered her at all, until now. Now it was just one example of something he didn’t know about her.

Tense, Rosie stood as the seamstress fussed around her, checking the fit. “The waist needs to be taken in a little. You’re so slender. And December in Aspen is cold, so you might like to take a look at our range of faux fur wraps. Maybe a muff?” She stepped back and pressed her hand to her chest. “You’re going to be a beautiful bride. I do love a Christmas wedding. It always feels like a double celebration.”

Christmas.

When someone said that word, Rosie thought of Honeysuckle Cottage, the scent of cinnamon and pine, and her mother rustling up homemade treats from the kitchen. She thought about fleecy pajamas, mugs of steaming hot chocolate and long chats with her sister that went on until the early hours. There was always an enormous tree that smelled of the forest, decked with the usual decorations, all of which came with a story attached, and the annual gathering with the neighbors, when Mrs. Albert from next door always drank too much sherry and told stories of her time at Oxford during the war.

The reality of it sank in.

She’d planned on going home for Christmas, as she and Katie did every year. She’d already wrapped her gifts. Christmas was always spent at home with her family, and even though she’d lived away from home for four years, she’d been close enough to see her parents frequently. Honeysuckle Cottage still felt like home to Rosie. Student accommodation, however fun, couldn’t compare with her cozy bed in the attic room that had been hers since childhood. When she snuggled under the covers and stared up at the stars through the skylight, she felt more relaxed than she did anywhere else.

Christmas Eve was her favorite time because her parents still insisted on making her a Christmas stocking and thanks to creaky floorboards she always heard them fiddling outside her bedroom in full Santa mode.

She’d been looking forward to it, but now it wasn’t going to happen.

There would be no devouring her dad’s scrambled eggs and smoked salmon for breakfast. No frosty walk on the village green, or lavish slices of her mother’s unbeatable fruitcake. No staggering home from the village pub singing carols, substituting the usual lyrics with something definitely not PG.

She’d be spending Christmas in Aspen, with Dan’s family. In fact they’d be her family, because she’d be married by Christmas Day.

Panic closed in on her. She and Dan hadn’t thought through the detail.

Where were they going to live?

Dan was an only child. Would he expect them to have Christmas in Colorado every year? It was yet another subject they hadn’t explored together. And what would Dan make of her home? He was tall. How would he handle Honeysuckle Cottage with its low ceilings and lethal beams? And then there was the blending of two families.

Catherine had been so kind and welcoming, but she was always perfectly groomed and looking her best. Rosie didn’t feel comfortable mooching around in her pajamas, so she’d been up, fully dressed and made-up for breakfast each morning. And Catherine was such a superwoman. She was always on her phone, solving people’s wedding problems.

Rosie thought about her own mother, and the hours they’d spent chatting at the kitchen table. Maggie worked, but work didn’t dominate her life in the way it did Catherine’s. Would she and Catherine even get along?

Tension squirmed in her stomach.

She’d been excited about her family flying over, but now she wasn’t so sure. What happened when two families didn’t blend, but collided?

Was it going to be a happy family Christmas, or a recipe for disaster?

She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself.

If she needed evidence that a whirlwind romance could work, she had only to look at her parents. They’d married a few months after they’d met and were still happy together thirty-five years later. Take that, Katie!

The more she thought about that one simple fact, the better she felt.

Her parents’ marriage was strong and indestructible. They were rock solid. Why shouldn’t she and Dan be like them?

Her parents were a shiny example of what a marriage should look like.

She’d confess her worries to her mother, although she could already imagine what she’d say. Your father and I met and married in a whirlwind, too, and we’ve done fine together for more than thirty years.

Feeling better, Rosie smiled.

If anyone could put her doubts to rest about marriage, it would be her mother.

Katie

Katie unlocked the door of the small two-bedroom house she’d rented for the past decade and dropped her bag on the floor.

Vicky appeared in the doorway, wearing a thick red Christmas sweater over spotted pajama bottoms. “Who are you?”

“Very funny.” Katie slid off her coat and hung it on the peg. It had been raining nonstop for a week and London was gloomy and cheerless. Her fingers were frozen, and her hair was lank. She’d never felt less festive in her life.

“I’m serious. I used to share this place with a friend, but I reported her missing weeks ago. The police are looking for a body.”

“Great. If they find one, let me know. I’ll swap it for the one I’m walking around in.” Her shoulder throbbed. It kept her awake, not because of the pain, although it was painful, but because of the memories that came with it. She glanced at Vicky’s feet. “You’re wearing two pairs of socks. Did the heating break again? Please tell me we have hot water.”

“You look like hell, Katie.”

“Thanks a bunch.”

“You’re at work the whole time, you hardly ever go out, and when you’re home you’re either Cactus Katie or you fall asleep in front of the TV.”

“‘Cactus Katie’?”

“Prickly. Dangerous to be close to.”

“Oh. Well, if you’re planning to water me, use vodka.” She pushed her damp hair away from her face. “I admit I may be on a short fuse at times, but we have a staffing crisis.”

“You’ve had a staffing crisis for the past few years. We used to manage to eat together at least once a week, and now I can’t even get to speak to you on the phone. I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be. I’m fine. Is the kettle hot? It’s cold out there. If I don’t warm up soon, I’ll be treating myself for frostbite.” She walked into the kitchen and put her phone on the table next to a take-out pizza box. “Any of that left?”

“One slice. If I’d known you’d be home, I would have saved more for you.”

“A slice is enough.” Katie pulled it out of the box, took one mouthful and pulled a face. “What is this?”

“Christmas pizza.”

“That exists?”

“Apparently. I was trying to get in the mood.”

“I’m not even going to ask what sort of mood. Turns out one slice is more than enough. I should warn my colleagues. It might be a new cause of death.” Katie put the half-eaten slice back in the box. She couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten a healthy meal. She should probably cook something, but by the time she arrived home she was too tired. “Sorry I haven’t been around much.” Her phone started to ring and she glanced at the screen. “How are you?”

“Better than you.” Vicky put a cup of tea in front of her. “Aren’t you going to answer that? It’s your mum. She might want something.”

“I know what she wants. She wants to take me to lunch and talk weddings.”

“Weddings?”

“Rosie is getting married at Christmas.”

“This Christmas?”

“Yes. In Colorado. And before you ask, no, I won’t be going home to Oxford. Somehow I have to get myself on an airplane and fly to Aspen and stop her doing something she’s going to regret forever.” She lowered her head onto her arms and closed her eyes. “It’s a long flight. At least I can sleep all the way.”

Although these days she didn’t sleep. She collapsed into bed exhausted, but her mind refused to cooperate. Instead of shutting down it came alive, producing a slideshow of images she was trying to forget. There was no respite. She’d been on the what if and if only roundabout for so many weeks she was dizzy.

This wasn’t like her. She had no idea how to handle it.

“Wait. You’re intending to stop the wedding?”

“Absolutely.” Katie lifted her head. “She’s known him for a few months, Vick.”

“So?”

“So I have cheese in the fridge that’s older than their relationship. What can you possibly know about someone after a few months? It takes time for a person’s worst traits to be revealed, but I intend to fast-track that part.”

Vicky blinked. “To be clear about this—you’re going to Aspen in order to dig up dirt on the man your sister is in love with?”

“Thinks she’s in love with. I’m glad you understand. And I won’t be digging as such. I’ll be spending time with him. I’ve had so much more experience than Rosie at seeing the bad side of people, and I’m not emotionally involved so I won’t find it hard to ask the tough questions.”

Vicky let out a long breath. “This could be your future brother-in-law.”

“Not unless he passes the interview process.”

Vicky shook her head. “I’ve suspected it for a while, but this confirms it. You need help.”

“You mean Rosie needs help. I agree. That’s why I’m doing this.”

“No, I mean you. You’re the one who needs help.” She leaned forward. “Katie, I love you, we’ve been friends since the first day of medical school, but I’m telling you now this is not rational behavior. People don’t fly across the Atlantic to stop a wedding. Normal is going as a guest. You buy a dress. Maybe a hat. Take a gift. Throw confetti. You don’t ask tough questions of the groom and tell the bride you think she’s making a mistake.”

“I don’t think it. She is making a mistake.”

“If it’s a mistake, then it’s her mistake. This isn’t your responsibility, Katie, and it isn’t even your business. Do you want to know what I think? I think you should go to the wedding and relax for once. Stop trying to fix everything and everyone. Aspen is stunning. My parents took me skiing there when I was sixteen. If I had the money, I’d go again. Breathe in fresh air. Chill a little. A Christmas wedding in the snow sounds like fun.”

Not to Katie, but nothing much seemed like fun at the moment.

Maybe Vicky was right. Maybe she needed help. Not because of her reaction to Rosie, which seemed entirely sane to her, but because of the way she felt generally.

Was she clinically depressed? She had no idea. These days she didn’t even have the energy to diagnose herself. “Are you not even the tiniest bit sympathetic that I have to drag myself on a fourteen-hour journey when even the halfhour commute almost finishes me off?”

“You’re going to spend Christmas playing in the snow at a luxury mountain resort and you expect me to feel sorry for you? You’re going to have to work harder.”

Katie tried to smile, but her head was filled with everything serious. She’d forgotten how to laugh and have a lighthearted conversation. She was consumed by guilt, and doubt and—yes—anxiety. And now she had her sister to worry about, too. How was she going to get through a week with family without falling apart? She honestly had no clue.

She knew she wasn’t good company either at work or at home.

Vicky sat down opposite her. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

Katie lifted her head and looked at her friend. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“A few weeks ago you came home looking worse than you do now, if that’s possible. You didn’t want to talk about it and I respect that, but—you looked traumatized.” Vicky reached across the table and took her hand. “I know something happened at work and I know it’s eating away at you. I’m your best friend, Kat. We’ve known each other forever. You can talk to me.”

“Not about this.” Katie tried to pull her hand away but Vicky tightened her grip. “I’m handling it.”

Vicky finally let her go. “If you don’t want to talk to me, fine, but you have to talk to someone. You can’t carry on like this. Even before that night, your life was ridiculous. You move from home to work and work to home.”

“Plenty of people do the same.”

“But do you even enjoy it? You used to be happy. You used to talk about how much you loved it, and the cases you saw. You were animated, but now you’re…”

“I’m what?”

Vicky swallowed. “Like a robot or something.”

“Thanks.” Had she loved it? It was true that she had satisfaction from meeting goals. She’d always been the same. Work for an exam, pass with top marks. She’d worked hard at each step, enjoying the forward motion. Onward and upward. “I don’t think anyone enjoys dragging people back from the brink of death every day.” The pressure was so intense it felt like being squeezed by a nutcracker.

“But you used to find it satisfying. You loved making a difference.”

Her heart beat faster. “Do you think we do make a difference?”

“Of course. Don’t you?”

“Most of the time I feel like I’m trying to stop the Titanic from sinking by putting my fist in the hole. It’s not working. We do what we can, but it never feels like enough.”

And since that night she was questioning everything.

She’d lost trust in herself. In her judgment.

You made a bad decision, Katie.

Bad call.

The blood pounded in her ears and her breathing grew shallow.

It didn’t matter how many times people told her that it wasn’t her fault, it felt like her fault.

“Well, if you have your fist in the Titanic, I can tell you that you’re sinking with the ship, Kat. We do our best. That’s all we can do. But you’re giving too much. You’re working at the expense of your social life. You’re working at the expense of your health! When did you last kiss a guy?”

“There was that guy in the pub a few weeks ago.”

“That was in June. And the fact that you remember it so clearly means you’ve had no action since. And by the way, one drunken kiss in a pub does not a relationship make.”

“Is it my fault he didn’t call?”

“I don’t know, is it? Karen.”

Katie felt her cheeks burn. “It’s very close to my real name. And he had my number.”

“Not your whole number. You always change the last two digits.”

“What can I say? It’s easier than saying I don’t want to see you again.”

“Have you ever given your real number to a man?”

“Yes. And I ended up having to get a new number when he wouldn’t leave me alone. I prefer to keep things simple.”

Vicky leaned forward. “What you’re doing at the moment isn’t living. You’re existing.”

What she was doing was trying not to lose her grip. If she kept busy, everything would be okay. She almost told Vicky then, but part of her was afraid that if she exposed that single pulled thread in the fabric of her life, the whole of her would unravel. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I need a break. I’ll be fine when I’ve had time off.”

“Will you?”

“I don’t know.” She pushed the pizza box away from her. “I feel as if I’m going crazy. Damn it, Vick—what’s happening to me?”

Vicky stood up and put her arms around her. “You need professional help. Would you talk to someone?” The kindness and compassion in her voice almost tipped Katie over the edge.

She could barely force words past the lump in her throat. “I have you.”

“But you’re not talking to me, and all I have to offer is turkey pizza—you need someone with expertise.”

“Your turkey pizza wasn’t up to much. You’re a lousy friend.”

Vicky didn’t smile. “Go to occupational health.”

“And what?”

“I don’t know. Maybe they’ll sign you off sick.”

“I have a holiday coming.”

“Not long enough.”

“Staff taking sick leave is one of the reasons it’s so bad at the moment. If I go off, too, that would make things a thousand times worse for my colleagues.”

“You can’t be a good doctor, feeling the way you do. How are you supposed to make good decisions?”

She hadn’t. She hadn’t made good decisions.

She stood up abruptly. “I need to get to bed.”

“So that you can get up and do the same tomorrow morning.”

“That’s right.” She finished her tea and put the mug in the dishwasher. “Thanks for the tea and the listening ear. And the pizza. It was an experience.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you feel better in the morning. Oh, and, Katie—”

Katie paused with her hand on the door. “What?”

“Just so you know—from where I’m sitting, it doesn’t look as if you’re handling it.”

The following morning she didn’t feel better, nor did she feel better for any of the twenty mornings that followed. She booked her flight on automatic, an open ticket because if things went the way she expected them to she’d be coming back after a couple of days. She approved Rosie’s suggestion for her dress even though she’d barely glanced at it.

The conversation with Vicky played round and round in her head.

You can’t be a good doctor if you’re in a state yourself.

Katie had never failed at anything in her life. She badly wanted to be a good doctor, and that was how she found herself sitting in front of a doctor as a patient for once.

It felt enormous to be admitting that she wasn’t doing well. If she said it aloud to a professional, then that would make it real. There would be no more pretending these feelings might blow over.

The occupational health doctor was brisk and to the point.

“I read your medical record, so I know what happened to you.” She removed her glasses, her expression kind. “I’m wondering why it took you this long to come and talk to me.”

“I didn’t feel I needed to.” Katie fidgeted. “I was doing fine. I haven’t missed a day of work—”

“Why not?”

“Excuse me?”

Dr. Braithwaite glanced brief ly at the notes. “After what happened I would have expected you to have time off. And perhaps counseling. Have you considered talking to a psychologist?”

“No.” Her heart rate increased. She clasped her hands in her lap, hoping that the woman across from her couldn’t see that she was sweating. “I don’t want to spend what little free time I have talking about something I’m trying to forget. I prefer to deal with it my own way.”

The doctor nodded. “But you’re sitting in front of me now, which tells me that you’re not finding that as easy as you thought.”

Katie felt tears burn her eyes and blinked. “I think about it all the time. Flashbacks.”

“To the attack?”

“Yes, but mostly to events leading up to it. I keep thinking what might have happened if I’d done something different. He—he said it was my fault—”

“And you believe him?”

“It was my fault. But we were so busy that night, I didn’t give him the time he needed. It’s about triage. Always about triage. What you don’t realize is that risk is not always obvious. Sorry.” She grabbed a tissue from the box on Dr. Braithwaite’s desk. “I’m not normally like this.”

“How are you normally?”

“A coper.” She smiled through her tears. “I’m a coper. Never a day off sick. And a perfectionist. Never an exam I couldn’t pass, or a problem I couldn’t handle. You name it, I aced it.”

Dr. Braithwaite nodded. “Do you see perfectionism as a good thing?”

“It is in medicine. In medicine you’re expected to get it right every time.”

“But how could you? Humans are flawed, are they not? Errors are inevitable, and of course we should do our best to avoid them when lives are at stake but there is a difference between setting high personal standards and perfectionism. One makes you strive to do the best you can and the other, being unobtainable, makes you self-critical and unhappy. It also makes people afraid to reveal anything that could be perceived as weakness and prevents a person taking risks because failure is not seen as an option.”

Katie blew her nose. “Your advice is to go out there and fail?”

“I think you should consider the possibility that you can make a mistake and still be a good doctor.” Dr. Braithwaite pushed the box of tissues closer to her. “Admitting that you need help isn’t a weakness.”

“I’ve wanted to be a doctor since I was a child. Every exam I worked for has been leading me here. I have slogged and sacrificed, and now I’m questioning the whole thing.”

“Because you believe you made a mistake?”

“Not only that. I think—” she swallowed “—I think maybe I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“And that scares you?”

“Of course.” Because if she wasn’t a doctor, who was she? Katie stared at the paperweight on the doctor’s desk. “I’ve never felt like this before. I’m worried that I’m going to unravel and it’s not going to be pretty.”

“And what would happen if you did ‘unravel’? Why would that matter?”

“Because people rely on me.” She thought about her mother, and all the worry she’d had with Rosie. She’d be appalled if she knew how bad her elder daughter was feeling. “I don’t want anyone to worry about me. I’ve got this. I need—” She slumped in her chair. “I don’t know what I need. I don’t suppose you have a magic potion?”

Dr. Braithwaite was thoughtful. “You didn’t take a single day off after what happened?”

“I took a couple of hours while I was being stitched up, and I’ve had a couple of physio appointments since then which don’t seem to make a difference. I had to talk to the police of course, but other than that, no.” Katie shook her head. “I’m better keeping busy.”

“Maybe not.” Dr. Braithwaite reached for a notepad. “Are you working over Christmas?”

“No, I’m off from tomorrow and back to work on New Year’s Eve.”

“You won’t be working New Year’s Eve. I’m signing you off until the middle of January. That gives you a month.”

Katie sat up with a gasp. “You—a month? I can’t be away from work for a month. Even taking an hour out for this appointment has created extra work for my colleagues. We’re already stretched to the breaking point in the department, and winter is coming, and—”

“Dr. White—Katie—” Her voice gentled. “Have you heard the phrase physician, heal thyself?”

“Yes, but there’s nothing wrong with me. My shoulder has healed perfectly well and so has my head.” Apart from the constant throbbing, and the nightmares.

“Those aren’t the injuries that concern me.” The doctor scribbled something. “I’d like you to talk to one of my colleagues. A psychologist who specializes in dealing with traumatic events. She’s very good at what she does.”

“I don’t want to spend my time talking about something I want to forget.”

“That’s your decision, but I’m giving you her number anyway and I suggest you call her.” Dr. Braithwaite tore the paper from the pad and handed it over. Then she tapped some keys on the computer and printed out a prescription. “I’m giving you a short course of antidepressants. I think they may help you handle this acute phase. Come back to me in the middle of January and we’ll talk again.”

Katie took the prescription, even though she knew it was going straight into a drawer. She didn’t know what she needed, but she was pretty sure it wasn’t antidepressants. “Thanks.”

Dr. Braithwaite put her pen down. “Are you going away over Christmas? In my opinion you need a complete break, away from London. Time to recharge.”

“As it happens I’m going to Colorado. I need to—” She almost said stop my sister getting married, and then realized how that would sound to someone who didn’t know her. It had sounded bad enough to Vicky who did know her. “My sister is getting married and I need to be there to support her.” She expected the doctor to smile and say all the usual things about how exciting and what fun.

She didn’t.

“So you’ll be focusing on her, and her needs and your days will be busy again. I want you to focus on your own needs for once, Katie. You need time to think.”

She didn’t want time to think. “You want me to tell my little sister I can’t go to her wedding?”

“No, but I want you to carve out some time for yourself. On ref lection, maybe the Rockies in winter is exactly what you need.” Dr. Braithwaite tapped her fingers on the desk as she studied Katie. “Mountains. Snow. Fresh air. It might be good for you.”

Katie wasn’t convinced. Having made a fool of herself and howled in front of Dr. Braithwaite who was a total stranger, how was she going to hold it together with her family?

Her mother would notice right away that something was wrong, which was why Katie had been avoiding her. Fortunately, she hadn’t been able to book the same flight as them, so she was traveling separately a day later. She felt guilty about that, too, because her mother wasn’t so much a nervous flyer as a terrified flyer and Katie probably should have been there to help, but it wasn’t her fault that there were no seats.

She had a long flight to pull herself together and produce a convincing act.

And maybe she did need to give some thought to her own approach to life. Maybe it was okay to fail in some circumstances, but not this circumstance.

She had a family to fool and a wedding to stop.

Rosie

Rosie stood in the arrivals hall of the airport, craning her neck to see her parents.

Dan stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her to stop her being jostled by the crowd. “Do you know that you always bite your lip when you’re nervous or excited?”

“I do not bite my lip.” She stopped biting her lip.

“You don’t even know you’re doing it. Also, you hug yourself and there’s no need because you have me to hug you now.” As if to prove it, Dan tightened his grip. “I haven’t seen you this stressed. Is this what your family does to you?”

“Being around them always makes me a little anxious.”

“I’d noticed. By the way, you might want to take off your earring.”

She turned her head to look at him. “You don’t like my earrings?”

“I love your earrings, but you’re only wearing one of them.” He gave her a wicked grin. “I suspect the other is back home somewhere in our bed.”

She gasped and lifted her hand to her ear. It was bare. “It must have fallen out when we—”

He covered her lips with his fingers. “Small children within earshot.”

“We were so late leaving, I didn’t even check.”

“We were a little distracted.” He kissed her jaw. “Don’t worry. At least you remembered pants.”

She gave him a shove with one hand, and removed her one earring with the other. “I’m relieved you noticed. I’d rather not greet my parents looking as if I just climbed out of bed, thank you.” She turned back to look at the throng of people. “Where are they?”

“Probably stuck in immigration. Or waiting for baggage. You need to chill.”

She didn’t know how to “chill.” That word didn’t appear in her vocabulary.

He should know that. He should know everything about her, surely? How else could he possibly be sure he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her?

A person should know what they were committing to. At what stage does what you know become enough?

Oh stop it, Rosie!

She was hearing the voices of her family even though they hadn’t even arrived yet.

She wished she’d never talked to Katie. What if they embarrassed her in front of Dan?

She wished she could inject herself with something and kill all the little doubts that were multiplying in her mind. Right now, her focus should be on her parents. Her mother would probably be a nervous wreck after the flight, and that was assuming her father had managed to get her on the flight in the first place. What if he hadn’t?

Maybe they were still in Heathrow.

Her imagination took a long-haul flight of its own with no stopovers. She pictured her mother collapsing at the departure gate and having to be sedated. Or, worse, being midair and trying to claw her way out of the plane.

“Can you open the door of a plane when it’s in the air?”

“No, of course not.”

“Why ‘of course’?”

“Because the cabin is pressurized, and the internal pressure is higher than the external pressure. The differential air pressure would mean you’re pulling over a thousand pounds—not possible. It’s physics.”

Rosie hated physics. “My area of expertise is folklore and mythology, so there is no reason why I should know that.”

He let go of her and turned her around to face him. “Why are you asking? Does your mom have a habit of trying to open plane doors midflight?”

“No.” But that was because her mother avoided flying whenever possible. “My mother hates flying.”

“If she hated it that much, she wouldn’t have come.”

“You don’t know my mother. There is nothing she wouldn’t do for my sister and me.” And Rosie was feeling increasingly guilty for dragging her mother away from home at Christmas. She loved Christmas and always made such a fuss of everyone. “She’s always been there for us, no matter what.”

“And this is your wedding! I’m sure she’s happy and excited for you.”

Rosie wasn’t sure of that at all. She was starting to feel a little sick. What was it about her family that made her revert to child mode? “What if they never made the flight?”

“Then your dad would have called.”

“Do you have to be so logical?”

He smiled. “Yes, it’s part of who I am, you know that.”

“I do know that.” She said it firmly, to remind herself that there were in fact plenty of things she knew about him. She knew he was passionate about health and fitness, having lost his dad to a heart attack when he was twenty. She knew he preferred reading nonfiction to fiction, that he absorbed facts like a sponge, and loved the outdoors. And she knew that being with him made her feel as if she could take on the world. He never questioned her competence or decisions. His belief in her had made her start to believe in herself.

“You’re overthinking this. That creative brain of yours is working overtime.” He cupped her face in his hands, his expression kind. “Are you sure this is about your parents? Nothing else? You’ve been getting more and more stressed the last couple of weeks.”

“You’re imagining things.”

“I know you, Rosie.”

Did he? Did he really?

“You can’t arrange a wedding in under a month and not expect a little stress, Dan. That would be unrealistic.”

“So it’s the wedding?” He stroked a strand of hair away from her face. “Not that I’m an expert on weddings, this being my first and only one, but I thought it was supposed to be fun and exciting.”

That was what she’d thought, too, but it turned out they were both wrong.

She didn’t feel giddy with excitement; she had a tension headache.

“Let’s talk about something other than weddings for five minutes.”

“Hey—” he pulled her back into his arms “—it’s going to be okay, I promise. Once your family arrives, you’ll be more relaxed. You’re probably stressed because your sister couldn’t make it out on the same flight. I know you miss her.”

Mmm. Right now she wanted to kill her sister.

Why were relationships so complicated?

“She emailed yesterday. She wants us to share for a few nights so that we can catch up. Is that okay with you? At Christmas we always end up sharing a room. It’s kind of a tradition.”

Dan grinned. “I’m assuming I’m not invited to this sisterly sleepover?”

“You’re not invited, but it’s going to feel weird being separated from you. I’m not sure how I feel about it to be honest.”

Katie had said in her email that she desperately missed girlie gossip and that she wanted a few nights together like they always had at Christmas, but now Rosie was wondering if there was more to the request than an urge for sisterly bonding.

She’d tried calling, but her sister hadn’t answered her phone.

Dan seemed relaxed about it. “It will be fun, and it’s understandable. She hasn’t seen you in ages. She wants to gossip with her little sister.”

Rosie hoped that was all it was.

She almost told him then. She almost told him what Katie had said, and how she’d put doubts in her mind.

But how could she? She didn’t even know if those doubts were real. She didn’t know what she wanted. There was so much she could talk to him about, but not this.

“I hope you like her.” I hope my sister doesn’t subject you to interrogation. What if she did? What if Dan decided it was all too much? Rosie leaned her head against his chest, feeling detached despite the warmth of his arms. It was as if a barrier had somehow appeared between them. One of the things she’d loved about him from the start was how easy he was to talk to, but right now she couldn’t find a way to say what needed to be said. She felt him stroke her hair.

“You’ve talked so much about her, I feel as if I know her already.”

There had been a few things she’d left out. Like the fact that her sister hadn’t sounded thrilled about the wedding. “It’s been an insane few weeks.”

He lifted her face to his. “Mom hasn’t been too overwhelming?”

“Not at all. She’s the kindest person and so generous. I love her.” That was true, even though it was also true that Catherine’s expectations about the wedding added another level of pressure.

“And she loves you.” He smiled as he kissed her. “She told me that if she could have chosen a daughter, she would have chosen you.”

And…more pressure.

Oh this was ridiculous. She needed to tell him about the conversation with Katie. But then he might be mad at Katie, and she couldn’t bear that. She didn’t want to begin a marriage with family tensions.

“Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“You mean a really deep, dark secret?”

She swallowed. “Yes.”

“Something no one else on the planet knows about me, not even Jordan?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure? Because I have some pretty serious stuff buried in my past.”

Her heart started to pound. Maybe Katie was right. Maybe there were things they didn’t know about each other that really mattered.

“Tell me. You can tell me anything.” And she should be able to tell him anything, shouldn’t she? After he’d made his big confession, whatever that was, she’d tell him straight out about her doubts. Neither of them would be hiding anything.

“It’s pretty shocking.”

“Go on.”

He took a deep breath. “When I was seven I found my Christmas presents under my parents’ bed and opened them all.”

Anxiety turned to relief. “That’s it? Oh, you—” She pushed at his chest and he grinned.

“I told you it was shocking.”

“I’m being serious.”

“This was serious. I was grounded for two weeks. And no, I didn’t get any other gifts that year. That was when I figured out Santa wasn’t real, although I did wonder brief ly if maybe he’d paid us an early visit and stored mine under the bed.”

“That’s your deep, dark secret?”

“Yes.” He lowered his head and kissed her brief ly. “I don’t have deep, dark secrets, Rosie. I’m pretty straightforward.”

“I know, and I love that about you.” Her heart was still knocking against her ribs. She’d braced herself to hear something awful, and she should have known it would be a joke. He loved to tease her, and most of the time she loved his brand of teasing. “Here’s something about me that you don’t know—I’m allergic to dogs. And cats.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. My worst asthma attack ever happened when I was staying with a friend who owned a dog. Which basically means I can’t ever own a pet.”

“Damn.” He ran his hand over his face. “Then we’re done. We’re over. Better call Mom and cancel the wedding.”

Her heart almost stopped. “Are you—” she swallowed “—are you serious?”

“No, of course I’m not serious. You should know that.” His expression was midway between amused and exasperated. “What’s wrong with you today?”

“I don’t know. I’m worried you’re going to change your mind, I suppose.”

“I love you, Rosie. You. All of you. No, I didn’t know you were allergic to animals but never mind. We’ll work with it. Do I like dogs? Sure. But I like you more. If marrying you means I have to get my furry animal fix outside the home, then that’s what I’ll do.”

He made everything sound so simple.

“That’s—” she swallowed “—good. Because I thought maybe that if you’d always imagined a family home with a pet, then—”

“I can live without a pet, Rosie.”

“Right. You—you don’t see obstacles, do you?”

He frowned. “That wasn’t an obstacle.”

“It might be, to some people, but that’s what I mean—you don’t see them.” And she loved that about him. “I thought there might be things we don’t know about each other, that’s all.”

“I’m sure there are. But not because we’re keeping secrets. Not because there’s something dark we need to hide. It’s finding out those small things that are going to add to the fun.”

He was so sure of everything. So confident.

It made her feel a little better.

He lowered his head and his lips brushed hers, teasing, seductive, a reminder of what they’d shared the night before and the night before that.

She felt a punch of desire and wrapped her arms around his neck. The sounds of the airport faded into the background and her world was filled with nothing but Dan, his mouth, the sudden blast of heat as his arms locked around her. Her head spun.

When he finally released her, she kept her hand on his shoulder for extra support.

Someone strolling past them muttered get a room, and Dan grinned.

“That’s not a bad idea. How about we check into an airport hotel and I’ll show you how much I love you? We’ll tell your parents we were stuck in the snow.”

Even though it was a ridiculous idea, she was almost tempted. Her legs still felt like liquid and her body throbbed with need. The chemistry between them was off the scale. When they were naked and in bed she never had any doubts at all.

“Dan, I’ve been wondering—” Say it, Rosie, say it! “I’m wondering if we should have taken more time over this, that’s all. It’s happening very fast and that’s a lot of pressure.”

“You are so thoughtful, but don’t worry about it. Mom is a champion last-minute organizer. She has never met a crisis she hasn’t defeated. Frankly she thrives on it. Everything will be fine. It’s given her something to focus on. I haven’t seen her this happy since Dad died.”

And still more pressure.

Everything he said made it harder for her to speak up.

“Dan—”

“Wait—is that them?” Dan peered over her shoulder and she turned, searching the flow of people.

They ranged from the very young to the very old, many of them arriving to celebrate the holidays with loved ones. They surged around her wearing scarves, hats and eager expressions while juggling suitcases and parcels.

She saw a family placating a fractious toddler, an exhausted mother soothing a baby.

She didn’t see her parents.

“It’s not them.”

“You’re right, they are taking a long time.” Dan frowned at the last trickle of people. “Your dad would have called if there was an issue, right?”

“I hope so.” Unless he’d forgotten to charge his phone, a habit of his that drove all of them crazy. She rose on tiptoe to study a new bunch of people emerging through the doors.

Not her parents.

She was about to text again when she spotted her father’s head above the crowd.

“There he is! He’s the one with the windswept hair and the glasses.” She gave a wave. She was relieved to see them.

“I see him. And is that your mom? Is she okay, do you think? She looks a little—unsteady on her feet. Oh.” Dan gave an awkward laugh. “I guess she is okay. She’s really into your dad, right? Do they always kiss like that in public? That’s pretty cute. Maybe we should have got that room after all. They could have used it.” Because he was taller than her he had a better view, but as the people in front of her parted she saw her parents locked in a passionate embrace.

Rosie was aghast. What the—?

“They’re not normally like that. I mean, they have a great marriage obviously because they’ve been together forever, but they’re not usually that demonstrative.” She was thoroughly mortified while next to her, Dan was dying with laughter.

“I think it’s cool, and I can promise you that I’ll still be kissing you like that when we’ve been together for thirty years. Maybe your mom is glad to be alive after the flight. Nothing boosts your gratitude levels like a near-death experience, right?”

“Right.” When she’d worried that her family might embarrass her, this wasn’t the scenario she’d had in mind.

She saw her dad unpeel her mother’s arms from his neck.

They were still too far away for her to hear what was being said, but she saw her mother straighten her clothing and slide her arm through her husband’s.

It seemed like a gesture born of necessity rather than affection. Studying her closely, Rosie thought it looked as if her mother was leaning on her father.

Was she sick or something?

Anxious, she let go of Dan’s hand, ran to her parents and hugged them. First her mother, then her father. “I was starting to worry. How was your flight?”

“It went in a flash,” her mother said. “The cheap seats were full by the time we booked, so Dad treated us to business class seats in the middle row. We were able to hold hands and watch movies. It was like dating again. It made us realize how much in love we still are.”

Rosie froze. Was this really her mother? Her sensible, practical, steady mother? “Er, Mum—”

“What sweetie? I love your father, that’s all. I want you to know that. We are so happy together. Happy, happy, happy. Everything is fine, you don’t have to worry about a thing. Did I mention how happy we are?”

What wouldn’t be fine? What shouldn’t she be worrying about?

When someone told you not to worry it generally meant there was something to worry about.

She glanced at her father for clues and he gave a tired smile.

“It’s been a long flight, and you know flying isn’t your mother’s idea of entertainment.”

“Oh but it was entertaining and after the first few glasses of champagne I wasn’t nervous at all!” Her mother sounded joyful. “That lovely man kept topping my glass up—”

“Lovely man?”

“One of the cabin crew. And Dad was talking and flirting outrageously with me. I was laughing so hard I didn’t even realize we’d taken off until the seat belt sign went ping.”

Rosie had seen her father hold a lecture hall in thrall, debate issues vigorously at the dinner table and eviscerate intellectual snobs, but she’d never seen him flirt.

The fact that she couldn’t imagine it was fine with her.

She admired and was grateful for her parents’ steady relationship, but that didn’t mean she wanted to dwell on the details.

“I’m glad the flight was bearable.”

“It was more than bearable. It felt as if we were going on our honeymoon. If it had been a night flight we might even have—”

“Mum!” Was her mother drunk?

Her father patted her shoulder. “Sorry we kept you waiting, Rosie. We’re last out of the door because they’ve lost your mother’s suitcase, including her wedding outfit.”

“Oh no, that’s terrible.” Was that an omen? No, of course it wasn’t an omen. On the other hand if she was going to believe in good omens, she also had to believe in bad ones. Stop it, Rosie! “What do we do?”

“We’ve been told to go to wherever we’re staying and wait for her case to be delivered.”

“And when will that be?”

“They don’t know. Hopefully soon.”

“I’m more worried about the presents I packed. They were only small things, but I chose them carefully. We don’t need clothes.” Her mother rested her head on his shoulder, unconcerned. “It will be like our first Christmas together. Remember that? It snowed, and we didn’t bother leaving the bed. We couldn’t afford heating, so we relied on body warmth. We didn’t get dressed for days.”

Rosie wanted to cover her mother’s mouth with her hand. “Too much information, Mum.” Had neither of them noticed Dan standing behind her? How much had he heard?

This was a nightmare. The first time she was introducing her parents to her fiancé and her mother was nothing like herself.

Her father didn’t seem like himself either. Usually he was the most laid-back person she knew, but today he looked tense. Perhaps that wasn’t surprising given the stressful flight he’d had with her mother.

“I want you to meet Dan.” Hardly the best timing, but what choice did she have? She grabbed him by the arm and tugged him forward.

“Great to finally meet you in person.” Dan stepped toward them, a smile on his face and hand outstretched, enviably comfortable with people. He’d told her it came from being an only child and having to look outside the family for playmates, but she suspected it was part of his personality.

He shook her mother’s hand, then her father’s and he was so warm and welcoming that Rosie relaxed a little.

Maybe he hadn’t noticed that her mother appeared to have consumed a little too much alcohol on the plane.

And then her mother let go of her dad’s arm and teetered toward him.

“Oh, Rosie, he’s gorgeous. No wonder you want to marry him quickly.” She closed her hands over Dan’s biceps and squeezed. “So strong. Yummy. And those eyes and that smile.”

“Mum, please—”

Sadly her mother wasn’t done. “You obviously work out, Dan.”

Kill me now. “Dan is a personal trainer. That’s how we met, remember? I decided I had to stop being a couch potato, so I joined a gym. I’m sure I told you.”

Why had she been worrying about the future of their relationship? After this, their relationship probably had no future. She should give the ring back right now and save Dan the trouble of asking for it.

She sent him an agonized look and was relieved when he winked at her.

The fact that he was struggling not to laugh made her feel a little better. Somehow, he always managed to find humor in situations she found stressful.

She loved him. She really did love him.

And she was so grateful she managed a weak smile in return. “I think my mother likes you.”

“Which is good news all around as I’m soon to be joining the family. It’s been a long journey for your parents,” he said calmly. “Let’s get them home.”

His kindness was another thing she loved about him. Katie was right that most of Rosie’s past boyfriends had treated her carelessly. Dan was always thoughtful.

Oh what was wrong with her? She should be dancing with joy that she was marrying him. She should be relieved they were doing it quickly before he had a chance to discover what a flaky person she was.

Already he was chatting comfortably with her parents. “The weather can be pretty changeable at this time of year, so we’re pleased to have blue skies to welcome you today. And don’t worry about the luggage. I’m sure my mother will be able to help you out with some emergency clothing.”

“I doubt it,” Maggie said. “Unless she went through a seriously fat stage at some point. Did she keep her pregnancy clothes?”

“Mum! You’re not fat and you don’t need anyone’s pregnancy clothes.” Since when had her mother been insecure? She’d never been one of those women who had obsessed over appearance. She took care of herself and liked to look her best, but that was as far as it went. “I think we should get out of here so that we can do most of the journey while it’s light.”

Dan seemed to agree because he scooped the luggage that hadn’t been lost and they all trooped to the car.

“Do you want to sit in the front with Dan, Dad?” At least that way she could silence her mother if necessary. Rosie opened the door for her father, but her mother grabbed his hand.

“This is our first trip together in a long time. We want to sit together, don’t we, Nick?”

Rosie saw her father pause.

“Maybe that would be the best idea.” He squeezed Rosie’s shoulder and nudged her into the front seat next to Dan. “She’ll be fine, don’t worry. My fault. I should have taken her glass away but I was so relieved that she wasn’t screaming in terror, I let her carry on.”

Rosie slid into the passenger seat and prayed the journey would pass quickly. The thought of four hours trapped in a car with her drunk mother didn’t thrill her. With luck she’d fall asleep and wake up entirely sober.

Catherine had invited them to join them up at the lodge for a family dinner that evening, but Rosie was already planning to postpone that event.

She’d arrange room service and tell Dan’s mother that they were jet-lagged and feeling the effects of the flight. That was true, if you counted alcohol poisoning as one of the effects of a flight.

Hopefully after an early night, her mother would be recovered.

There was still the issue of the missing suitcase of course, but Rosie would fix that problem tomorrow.

“You’ve lived in the area long, Dan?” Her father shifted the conversation onto safe ground.

“I was raised in Boston, but my parents came out here to ski when they were first married, fell in love with the place and that was it. My dad bought a plot of land before it became unaffordable, developed it and the rest is history. They love the outdoor lifestyle and the culture. When he died, my mother built up the wedding business.” Dan glanced in his mirror. “You guys live in Oxford. All that history right there on your doorstep. I’ve always wanted to visit.”

“It’s a wonderful place,” Maggie said happily. “We live in a pretty cottage with roses and honeysuckle round the door.”

Dan smiled. “Sounds charming.”

“It is. And you don’t need to worry that you won’t see it, because I will not be selling it. I’ve made up my mind. I know it’s too big for one, but I love it too much to ever leave.”

Too big for one? Rosie frowned. What was her mother talking about?

“Two of you live there,” she said patiently. “You and Dad. That’s two, not one.”

“Oh yes. The thing is, I see us as one. Isn’t that right, Nick? After so many years together, we’ve blended into one being.”

Her mother had totally lost it.

Dan reached across and squeezed Rosie’s hand, then glanced in the mirror at her mother. “It’s your family home. My family feel the same about Snowfall Lodge. My mom always says she’d have to be dragged away from the place. I think when you’ve lived somewhere a long time, it becomes part of you. I understand why you wouldn’t want to sell your home. That makes sense to me.”

It made no sense to Rosie because the question of selling Honeysuckle Cottage had never arisen.

Her parents adored the place. It was the only home Rosie had ever known. They’d never mentioned selling.

“Aspen was originally a mining town, and then the market for silver collapsed.” Dan eased into the flow of traffic leaving the airport. “Fortunately skiing became a thing, and the town developed from there. The position is great. We’re right by the Roaring Fork River, and we’ve got Red Mountain to the North, Smuggler Mountain to the East and Aspen Mountain to the South.”

“The Roaring Fork River,” Maggie murmured. “That sounds romantic. We have the Thames and the Cherwell.”

“It’s a tributary of the Colorado River. You guys should come back here in the summer.” The traffic eased and Dan put his foot down. “The drive over Independence Pass is stunning.”

“We can’t take that route now?”

“Closed in the winter. We’re forced to take the long route.”

Rosie glanced over her shoulder. “It snowed yesterday. It’s so pretty. I can’t wait to show you, although it will be dark when we arrive of course, so you won’t see it properly until tomorrow.”

Dan adjusted the heating. “So far we’ve had above-average snowfall for the season. And Rosie is right—the place is a winter wonderland. Snowfall Lodge is busy. We’re booked right through until March. I’m pleased for my mother. She’s put all her energy into this since my father died.”

“So the lodge is a hotel?”

“Of sorts, but not one of those sterile impersonal places where no one knows or cares who you are. Our guests tend to be on the fussier end of the spectrum, and we pride ourselves on personal service. My mother used to handle it all herself, but as she became more involved in the wedding side of things, she hired a manager. Every guest has a file. If you’re allergic to feathers and you don’t eat meat—it will be right there in your file so that next time you stay everything will be exactly as you like it. And for those guests who need extra privacy, we have our tree houses. They’re built high up in the tree canopy and offer a unique opportunity to stay deep in the forest. The views are incredible. You’ll be staying in one of those. My mother insisted.”

“A tree house?” Maggie frowned. “They’re actually built into the trees?”

“On stilts,” Dan said. “Don’t panic. They’re more ritzy than rustic. They’ve won several architectural and environmental awards. You’re going to love staying there. The tree houses are made of wood, so they blend into the forest and the local wildlife sometimes visit. They’re always popular with honeymooners. Where else can you sip champagne in the hot tub under a midnight sky? It should be perfect for you.”

Rosie shrank in her seat. She didn’t want to think of her parents as honeymooners.

Worried that her mother might be tempted to make some quip about being naked again, Rosie dived into the conversation. “How is Katie? I’ve barely heard from her the last couple of weeks.” After that phone call, all they’d exchanged were a few emails covering practical issues like her dress and flight arrangements. Unsettled by their previous conversation, Rosie had been nervous of calling her sister again and Katie hadn’t called her, either.

“You know your sister,” her father said. “She’s busy saving lives.”

“Let’s hope that’s all it is.” Maggie leaned her head on his shoulder. “If you ask me, there’s something going on. Every time I suggest lunch, she makes excuses. That’s not like her. Normally she snatches every opportunity to be fed. She’s avoiding me.”

Rosie felt a shimmer of unease. She’d had the same feeling about her sister, but had assumed it was because she’d upset her. She and Katie had their disagreements of course, as sisters did, but never anything serious and nothing long lasting. Their clashes were no more than sisterly sniping over small everyday things.

It’s your turn to clear the kitchen.

Did you borrow my shoes?

This time felt different. As if Katie was keeping her at a distance.

“She’s probably busy.” That’s what she’d been telling herself. She hoped she was right.

“It’s a shame you guys couldn’t fly out together, but those Christmas flights are always a nightmare. As well as the tourists, everyone wants to be home for the holidays.”

“Family is important at this time of year. I love you,” Maggie told Nick. “Have I told you today how much I love you?”

“Many times,” Nick said dryly, and Rosie closed her eyes.