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“Not once you started having kids.”
Cara shuddered at the idea. It wasn’t that she didn’t want children—one day—but not anytime soon. “It’s a moot point anyway. Chet’s already serious about someone.”
“You broke his heart,” her mother said sorrowfully.
Cara laughed. “I did not, and I’m glad he’s found someone who can meet all his needs. I found his expectations exhausting.”
“Chet’s just very focused and very ambitious.”
“I know, and it’s impressive, but I have a job, and I’m good at it, and I’m financially independent… why can’t that be enough? I feel like I’m enough. I don’t feel like I need to rush into marriage—”
“Rush, Cara? You and Chet were dating for years!”
“Two years, Mom, and I’m only twenty-seven. Why rush into marriage? Why settle down, when it feels like settling?”
“Most young women your age look forward to marriage and starting a family—”
“Yes, when the time is right. But sometimes you make it seem as if I should be grateful someone is interested in me, instead of how lucky that man is to have me. I’m a great catch, Mom, you know it.”
Her mother gave her a swift hug then. “Any man would be lucky to have you, sweetheart, just remember to be practical. Relationships require compromise.”
Cara left the shed, thinking that maybe if she liked her family a little less, or had fewer friends, she’d be worried about a future where she was single, but Cara knew she’d always have her family, and she had wonderful friends, so the future didn’t worry her. Nothing actually worried her. Was that a bad thing? She just had faith that everything would work out, the way it was meant to be, and so she lived accordingly. Not religious, but just… trusting in what was to come.
Faith certainly helped reduce one’s anxiety, and faith allowed her to have perspective. She was truly better off than many people, and being grateful for all the little blessings just made her feel more contented overall.
The sense of contentment suffered a small blow when she exited the pub and shuddered at a blast of icy wind. A twenty-minute walk was nothing in good weather, but she couldn’t imagine walking back to the cottage in the dark now. She fished Paul the taxi driver’s business card from her wallet and called him. He was out, driving someone to Sheffield, but he promised to find someone for her and told her to stay at the pub, but wait inside where it was warm.
It was just five minutes later when a taxi appeared outside, and Cara went out to check with the driver and see if he’d come for her.
The driver rolled down his window. “Cara?”
She smiled in relief. “Yes. Paul sent you?”
“He did. He said you were staying at one of the holiday cottages at Langley. Gamekeeper’s Cottage, I believe.”
She climbed into the backseat and closed the door, battling the wind for a moment while she got it shut. “I was at the Gamekeeper’s Cottage, but am now at a different cottage. It’s one that’s close to the old dairy, if you know where the old dairy is.”
“I do, and I’ll have you there in no time. Much more pleasant than walking on a night like this.”
“It’s freezing,” she said.
“Tomorrow should be colder, too. I believe.”
“In the pub, people were talking about snow for Christmas. Do you think it will snow?”
“It might. We had snow last Christmas, but just a dusting. A little bit of snow would be nice, but too much snow and everything shuts down. I’d hate to see the roads closed just before Christmas.”
“Would the shops and restaurants close?” Cara asked, thinking of her remote cottage with its quart of milk, butter, and half-dozen eggs delivered by Mr. Trimble, along with a tin of freshly baked scones from Mrs. Johnson. The eggs would be good for the morning, and the scones could see her through a lunch, but beyond that, she’d be hungry if she couldn’t go to Bakewell for meals and shopping.
“Depends,” the driver said. “If people could get to work, they’ll go. But if the snow is heavy enough, and if the trains are disrupted, most places would be forced to shut. Sometimes it’s just for a day, sometimes for three or four days. I always say that people are safer at home when the weather is poor. Too many unnecessary accidents with snow and ice.”
And just like that, they were nearly to the Gardener’s Cottage, and Cara was more than happy to hand over some folded notes.“Thank you so much for picking me up,” she said. “And if you talk to Paul, thank him, too.”
“I will. Have a happy Christmas,” the driver said.
“You, too.”
Cara unlocked the cottage front door with the old key, and then once inside, locked it again, adding the additional dead bolt. She wasn’t afraid, but at the same time, there wasn’t anything nearby. Better safe than sorry.
