Christmas in Vermont Read online

  “I didn’t know Cammi’s family had a baby.”

  “Her mom is pregnant.” Lola wiped her eyes. “Cammi’s afraid that her mom and her new husband will forget about her when the baby is born.”

  “You’re worrying too much,” Emma said to comfort her. “My brother is five years younger, and we were close as children.”

  “That’s different—you shared the same parents. But my mom and Chuck will always love the new baby more than me.” The tears started again. “I know, because my father loves me more than anything in the world.”

  “Yes, he does,” Emma said soothingly. “And that’s not going to change.”

  “But it will!” Lola hiccupped. “Megan is in her twenties; at some point she’ll want a baby. I’ll probably be a teenager, so she’ll make me babysit while she goes to the gym.” The tears came faster. “I won’t have time to do theater, and my dreams of being a star by eighteen will drown in a plastic baby bath.”

  Lola collapsed on the bed and Emma stroked her hair. How could Lola be so mature and childlike at the same time?

  “Even if Megan has a baby, nothing will change the way Fletcher feels about you. And your mother and Chuck have room in their hearts to love two children.” Emma had an idea. “Why don’t we go to the toy store and you can pick out a gift for the baby? Afterward, we’ll get dinner in the village and watch the Christmas concert.”

  “Go to a toy store now?” Lola asked, drying her eyes.

  “I have to get gifts for my goddaughters, and I haven’t made it to the Vermont Teddy Bear factory,” Emma said, nodding. “And I’m starving. This afternoon we passed a restaurant that serves fried fish fillets and apple pie with vanilla ice cream for dessert.”

  “That sounds even better than Betty’s shepherd’s pie.” Lola rubbed her stomach. “We better hurry, I don’t want them to run out of ice cream. Apple pie without ice cream is boring.”

  * * *

  It felt so festive walking through the village with Lola. They passed the Snowberry Lodge, which sat on a hill and was much grander than The Smuggler’s Inn. It had white columns and a plaque saying that the spot was the site of a battle in the Revolutionary War of 1776.

  They stopped at the Old Cheese Shoppe and sampled Vermont cheddar that smelled so sharp, Lola held her nose and ate the wedge of cheese at the same time. There was a store called The Mountain Goat that sold snowshoes, and a dress shop named Miss Frances’s Frocks that had lace dresses with real petticoats. Emma and Lola thought they were costumes until Miss Frances appeared in one of her own creations.

  The Snowberry Toy Shop had a Christmas tree that could have used a good dusting and two floors of dolls and trains. There was a section for blocks and a back room crammed with books.

  “What should I get Liv and Sarah?” Emma asked.

  “It’s after Christmas—didn’t you already give them presents?” Lola inquired, picking up a wooden duck.

  “I wasn’t supposed to be in New York at Christmas,” Emma replied. “I haven’t bought them anything yet.”

  “Where were you supposed to be?” Lola wondered.

  “In Hawaii with my boyfriend,” Emma said. “But it wasn’t working out, so I broke up with him.”

  “You gave up surfing for this?” Lola gestured to a couple of faded beanbags and a plate of sliced fruitcake.

  “I was afraid he was going to propose, and it didn’t seem right to go on vacation together,” Emma explained.

  “You’re braver than I imagined.” Lola scrunched her nose. “I thought you weren’t married because you’re kind of old, but you actually turned someone down.”

  “My friend Bronwyn doesn’t think I’m brave,” Emma sighed. “She thinks there’s some kind of curse.”

  “Bronwyn is wrong,” Lola said knowledgeably. “Waiting for true love is the bravest thing in the world. I’m not going to get married until I meet the man of my dreams. I don’t want to mess it up.”

  “How will you know it’s him?” Emma asked curiously.

  “He’ll kiss me and I’ll wake up from a deep sleep like in Sleeping Beauty,” Lola said, her eyes sparkling. “And once it happens, nothing will ever be the same again.”

  Emma bought two handmade cloth dolls with blond pigtails wrapped around their heads. Lola decided on a book of fairy tales and a squeaky pig for the bath.

  Afterward they strolled down Main Street to a brick building with white shutters. Inside was a cozy dining room with a roaring fire and old photos on the walls. Lola ate fried fish and gravy-covered fries, and Emma ordered short ribs with a side of fingerling potatoes.

  “Perhaps you should wait and let your mother tell Fletcher about the baby,” Emma suggested after the waiter replaced their plates with apple pie for Lola and a slice of peanut-butter cheesecake for Emma.

  “You mean he won’t be happy about it?” Lola ate a bite of vanilla ice cream.

  “It might be a bit of a shock,” Emma said diplomatically. “It’s better that Fletcher hear it from your mother.”

  “You and Dad were really good friends in college, weren’t you?” Lola said.

  “What makes you say that?” Emma responded.

  “You’re like me and Cammi. You can talk to each other forever and never run out of things to say. And Dad looks comfortable around you,” Lola continued. “Sometimes when he’s with Megan he gets this anxious look, like he’s afraid of saying the wrong thing.”

  “Romantic relationships are more complicated than friendships,” Emma said carefully. “But yes, your dad and I were good friends at Colby.”

  “Then why didn’t you keep in touch?” Lola wondered.

  “It’s easy to drift apart when you move and go on to different things.” Emma shrugged. “I’m sure you have friends in London that you won’t see again.”

  “I was only eight when I left; that’s still a child,” Lola reminded her. “Cammi and I are going to be friends forever. I’m going to be an actress in New York and she’s going to live in Beverly Hills, but we’re going to meet once a year.”

  “Is Cammi going to be an actress too?” Emma asked, grateful to change the subject.

  “Cammi doesn’t like acting. She was choosing between being a marriage counselor and a divorce attorney.” Lola licked her spoon. “She decided on divorce attorney—that’s where the money is.”

  * * *

  Emma and Lola emerged onto Main Street as the church bells chimed the hour. The shop windows were ablaze with lights, and there was a new dusting of snow on the pavement.

  Lola slipped her small hand into Emma’s and they strolled to the village square. There was a wooden stage strung with streamers, and the carolers were preparing to sing.

  “Emma, Lola, I thought that was you.” A man approached them. “It’s Stephen Green. It’s nice to see you.”

  “Of course—the owner of the playhouse.” Emma smiled.

  “I direct the carolers at Christmas.” Stephen waved at the little group dressed in red sweaters. “‘Jingle Bells’ isn’t Shakespeare, but tourists love it.”

  “It’s very festive,” Emma said, nodding.

  “I’m glad I saw you,” he continued. “I asked a buddy at the Southern Vermont Gazette to write an article about the talent show. It will be in tomorrow’s newspaper.”

  “Betty will be pleased,” Emma said, beaming.

  “My wife and I were good friends with Betty and John. Anne died five years ago, and they were so kind to me,” he said. “Their Christmas parties are always a bright spot in my year. I’d like to help.”

  “Betty already got some calls this evening.” Emma nodded. “The word is getting around.”

  “Tell her I’m here if she needs me.” Stephen turned to the stage. “I better go, or my smallest caroler will need to use the bathroom again and we’ll never get started.”

  The carolers sang “Come All Ye Faithful” and “O Holy Night.” It was magical standing in the village square with snow softly falling and Lola’s mittened finge
rs curled around her hand. Then the group sang “The Twelve Days of Christmas” and everyone joined in. Lola belted out the last verse and Emma’s heart had never felt so full.

  “What did you think?” Lola asked after they had stopped to buy maple fudge for Fletcher and Megan.

  “The performance was wonderful,” Emma said. “I’ll have to tell Bronwyn to bring the girls. They would love Snowberry at Christmas.”

  “I’m not talking about the carolers.” Lola looked up at Emma. Her cheeks were flushed from the cold, and the tip of her nose was red. “I mean about Stephen.”

  “Stephen!” Emma repeated, laughing. “I’m not looking for a relationship. Anyway, I may seem old, but I’m only thirty-three. Stephen is in his sixties.”

  “I’ve changed my mind about you being old. Being with you is fun,” Lola reflected. “But I was talking about Stephen for Betty.”

  “Betty’s husband just died. It might be too soon for her to think about men.”

  “Why would it be too soon? It’s better to have someone to celebrate Christmas with,” Lola said logically. “There’s no greater joy at Christmas than giving gifts to someone you care about.”

  * * *

  When they returned to The Smuggler’s Inn, Lola ran upstairs and Emma entered the kitchen to find Betty.

  “Emma!” Betty said, and gestured to the counter. “I saved you some pecan pie—let me cut you a slice.”

  “No, thank you.” Emma shook her head. “Lola and I had dinner in the village.”

  “I was wondering where you were.” Betty poured hot tea into a mug.

  “We went to the toy store, and after dinner we listened to a Christmas concert.”

  “Your eyes are sparkling.” Betty looked at Emma. “I haven’t seen you so happy since you arrived.”

  “Lola is an exceptional little girl,” Emma agreed. “She’s smart and lively and so much fun to be around.”

  “All children are exceptional in their own way,” Betty mused. “My daughter taught herself to do cartwheels at the age of six. I thought she was going to be an amazing gymnast, until she joined a class and there were a dozen girls who could do the same thing.”

  “What do you mean?” Emma asked.

  “Maybe it’s not Lola that’s exceptional. Maybe it’s you and Lola together,” Betty said. “Perhaps that’s why fate brought you and Lola together. To show you that you’re a good mother. Not every woman is cut out to have children.”

  “You sound like Bronwyn; she believes destiny is in charge of everything.” Emma laughed. “I hadn’t thought of that, but it doesn’t really matter. I don’t even have a boyfriend.”

  “You’re good at falling in love,” Betty reminded her.

  “I can’t make it last,” Emma said. “I’m destined to be the godmother who gives too many birthday presents because I don’t have anyone else to shop for.”

  “Or you can keep looking until you find the right man.” Betty stirred her tea. “I can’t think of anything that’s worth fighting for more than a happy marriage.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Emma took off her jacket. “Before I forget, we ran into Stephen Green. There’s going to be an article in the paper about the talent show. Lola said the funniest thing. She thought you and Stephen would be perfect for each other.”

  “Did she really? How interesting.” Betty’s cheeks colored slightly. She finished her tea and walked to the sink. “Well, you did say Lola was an exceptional child.”

  * * *

  Emma entered her room and tossed the presents on the bed. Outside the window a soft snow was falling, and the streetlights bathed the sidewalks in a golden glow. It had been a wonderful evening. Emma had loved stopping in front of the shop windows while Lola pointed to the things she would buy when she was older: lipstick and leather boots and a faux-fur coat.

  So why did she still feel so empty, as if there was a hole in her heart as big as one of Betty’s Christmas ornaments? Everyone had someone to love: Fletcher had Megan and Lola, and Bronwyn had Carlton and the girls, and Betty had her children and Stephen and the other residents of Snowberry who wanted to help her.

  How could it be so difficult to find someone she wanted to spend the rest of her life with? Someone to wake up with every morning, and decorate the tree with at Christmas. A guy who would do anything for her, and who made her want to do the same for him.

  Maybe this time destiny had got it wrong, and she was looking in the wrong place. But where else could she look? No matter how hard she tried, her happy ending dissolved like slush on the sidewalk. Emma turned off the light and the darkness engulfed her. Lola was right; it was better to celebrate Christmas with someone. It was no fun being alone.

  Twelve

  Three Days Before New Year’s Eve

  Snowberry, Vermont

  FLETCHER HURRIED THROUGH THE VILLAGE to the playhouse. It had snowed all night and the sidewalks were slippery. But he loved being out this early; it reminded him of when he jogged around campus before class. The sky was a winter blue, the snow was free of footprints, and everything looked clean and new.

  He had been disappointed last night when Lola said she had a stomachache and wanted to stay at the inn. He’d suggested they cancel their reservation for A Christmas Carol, but Lola insisted Betty would take care of her. And he and Megan were only a short distance away; if Lola needed him, he could return.

  It had been a lovely evening. The play was charming, and Megan looked beautiful in her new dress. They held hands across the table and talked about their favorite holiday traditions.

  His phone rang as he was about to enter the playhouse, and he recognized Graham’s number.

  “Fletcher, it’s Graham.” Graham’s voice came over the line. “I hadn’t heard from you. I wanted to make sure you weren’t eaten by a wild boar or any of those other strange animals you find in Vermont.”

  “So far I’ve only seen squirrels.” Fletcher noticed a squirrel scurrying into a bush. “It snowed last night, and this morning the village is all white.”

  “You should be glad you’re not in London,” Graham grunted. “It’s been raining for a week. They’re predicting snow flurries for New Year’s Day, and then more rain, so the whole city will be a sludgy mess.”

  “I’m quite enjoying Snowberry. Megan wanted to go back to New York early for a theater party, but we decided to stay until New Year’s.”

  “What kind of theater party?” Graham asked.

  “Jordan Roth is having a bash on New Year’s Eve,” Fletcher responded. “We’re holding a fundraiser for the owner of The Smuggler’s Inn, so I told Megan we couldn’t go.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea?” Graham asked. “At this point in your career, should you be giving up a party thrown by the biggest producer on Broadway to raise a few dollars for a country inn?”

  “It’s important to Lola,” Fletcher said. “She’s grown fond of Betty.”

  “I’m all for charity, but it begins at home,” Graham reminded him. “You’re new in New York; meeting the right people is important to the success of the play.”

  Fletcher opened his mouth and then closed it. Megan had said exactly the same thing.

  “So is teaching Lola to help others,” Fletcher insisted. “Yesterday Lola and Emma and I passed posters around the village. Lola met all the shopkeepers, and it was very educational.”

  “You and Lola and Emma?” Graham repeated. “Where was Megan?”

  “Megan was getting her hair done.”

  “I see you haven’t taken my advice,” Graham said. “About staying away from Emma and concentrating on your engagement.”

  “I didn’t even know Emma was joining us,” Fletcher replied. “Lola set the whole thing up. I couldn’t back out when she’d gone to so much trouble.”

  “I’m beginning to believe there is some kind of magic spell at work,” Graham mused. “Each time we talk, Emma is the subject of every other sentence.”

  “Now you’re talking lik
e one of those soothsayers in the booths at the Covent Garden market,” Fletcher cut in. “Snowberry is a small village, and we’re staying at the same inn. Of course we’re going to do things together.”

  “I’m only trying to help you,” Graham said gently. “When you get a chance, take a look in the mirror.”

  “What do you mean?” Fletcher asked.

  “It’s an old trick I use with actors when they’re not getting their role.”

  “I look in the mirror every day when I button my shirt.”

  “Don’t look at the buttons of your shirt, look into your eyes,” he said. “That’s the only way to see what’s going on in your soul. I was raised on Christmas stories. I believe Christmas is the time when miracles can happen. But first you have to know what you really want.”

  Fletcher bounded up the steps of the playhouse, and Stephen met him at the door.

  “Fletcher! I’m glad you called.” Stephen beamed. He was wearing a wool jacket over a flannel shirt and heavy boots.

  “Betty gave me your number.” Fletcher followed him into the playhouse lobby. “I hope it isn’t too early. I want to take some measurements of the stage; we only have three days until the talent show.”

  “I’m always up early. Bad habit from thirty years as a stockbroker.” Stephen led him into the theater.

  Fletcher took out a notepad and made a quick sketch of the stage.

  “It won’t be anything fancy, just a few props,” he said when he finished drawing. “Lola is determined to raise enough money for Betty. The whole thing has captured her enthusiasm.”

  “You have a special daughter,” Stephen agreed. “I ran into Lola and Emma at the Christmas concert last night.”

  “Lola and Emma?” Fletcher repeated. When he and Megan returned from the dinner theater, Lola had already been asleep. And he had left this morning before anyone was awake.

  “Lola has an amazing voice. I could hear her over the carolers,” Stephen said, smiling. “If you come back next Christmas, I’ll give her a solo.”