Page 166 of One Summer in Paris


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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 was hesitant. ‘I had planned to come home, but since Dan’s 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 colour. 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.’ Rosie was laughing. ‘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!’ 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 got married in the summer her mother told me they had to book the photographer more than a year in advance. And then there’s accommodation to think of—it’s Christmas! Everywhere will already be booked, and even if we manage to find something it will cost a fortune at this time of year.’

From the snippets of information Rosie had dropped into recent conversations she’d assumed Dan’s family was wealthy. They probably wouldn’t want to make do with her spare room. What would they think of Honeysuckle Cottage, 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? Well, there’s more snow here than you can possibly 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 those long nights she’d spent watching over Rosie.

‘You’re not coming home for Christmas?’

The moment she’d said the words she regretted them. 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 making arrangements. To arrange a wedding in under a month will 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.’

Perfect. Maggie thought of her own imperfect life and felt a rush of something she recognised as jealousy. How could she be jealous of someone she’d never met? Since when had she become so immature and small-minded?

Maybe she was having a mid-life crisis? But surely if that was the case then it should have happened years ago, when Rosie had first left home? Why now?

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 cancel that.

The one thing not so easily cancelled were her expectations.

The White family always gathered together at Christmas. They had all 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’s my next call. Not that she’s likely to answer her phone. She’s always working. I want her to be my maid of honour.’

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

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