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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.”
