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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.
