Mauve nodded. “It’s cold but so pretty.”
He led her up the small set of plank steps and pushed the crooked door open. The warm air hit them immediately, as did the scents of maple and woodsmoke. “Do you smell that? There’s no other smell like it in the world.”
“It’s amazing,” Mauve said.
Her obvious interest pleased him. As if he had anything to do with the family business any longer. It wasn’t really his to be proud of, but he was just the same.
“And oh my gosh, this is so much fun,” Mauve said. “Guests are going to love it here.”
Lanterns hung from the rough beams and battery operated candles in mason jars lined every surface. Scenic without the risk of fire. Blankets thrown over a long, wooden bench were there in case they needed them, but he doubted they would. Not with the wood stove doing its job so well.
“Want to sit?” Jason asked.
“Yes. I’m starving.”
“You can bet Aunt Grace has taken care of that.”
Uncle Walter had built a solid farmhouse table, with benches on either side. Tonight, it had been set for two with chipped enamel plates, folded cloth napkins and mason jars for drinking.
Grace had left a wedge of sharp cheddar, a small bowl of dark honey, a mound of creamy butter and a loaf of crusty bread already broken into rough hunks, all displayed on a wood board. There was another charcuterie plate with roasted almonds, dried apricots, slices of green apple, and three kinds of salami. A bottle of red wine had been opened and decanted, waiting for their arrival.
He helped her out of her parka and hung it and his own jacket on the peg by the door before they sat side by side at the table.
She poured them wine as he cut them chunks of cheese.
Jason raised his glass.
“To us,” he said.
“To thirty days of Christmas magic,” she said.
They clinked glasses. Jason rested his elbow on the table, his chin in one hand, watching her in the dim light. “You’re beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll never forget the first time I laid eyes on you. I couldn’t stop staring at you.”
“Same. I remember feeling like I was falling into a deep well. A warm one, but dangerous all the same.”
“And now here we are,” Jason said. “A year later. Still falling into the well.”
She blinked, as if fighting tears, and lifted her gaze to meet his. “Do you wish we never met?”
“What? No way.” He paused. “Do you?”
“A little bit. I know how hard it’s going to be to say goodbye.”
“We have weeks still. And I’ve been thinking.” Dare he express what he hoped would happen? “As I’ve said before, there are such things as airplanes.”
“Do you mean long-distance?”
“Yeah. People have bicoastal relationships all the time. We can fly to each other when either of us has a break in our schedule.”
She smiled, pushing her hair away from her shoulder. “That sounds simple enough.”
“Except?”
“I want a family, Jason. Flying back and forth in a long-distance thing is just not for me. Maybe five years ago, but not now.”
