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The trip back to New York isn’t too bad. Thankfully, traffic is light until I hit the Holland Tunnel a few hours later. This is always the worst part of the drive into the city. I open my window to let some of the cold in and am immediately hit with the smell of smog and car fumes. That, I didn’t miss.
The sun rises into the sky, signaling that the day has officially begun. Cars with out-of-state license plates clog up the tunnel, from people visiting the city this time of year. The lanes of traffic are at a complete standstill. Little kids peer out of backseat windows, sharing looks of awe.
From the ice skating at Rockefeller Center to the decorated window displays on Madison Avenue, there’s so much to do in the city this time of year. But honestly, I’d choose Christmas in a small town over the city any day.
It takes a while to finally cross into the city but once I do, I navigate to my building. I carefully pull into the parking garage, showing the employee in the booth my parking pass, and make my way to my designated spot.
The garage is filled with high-end cars. Various nameless neighbors rush to their vehicles. Most are dressed in suits or heels. Some yap on their cell phones. I wave as I drive by, and only one person gives a confused wave back.
I guess I’m not in Winterberry anymore.
As soon as I park, I grab my bags out of the trunk and head inside. It’s not as cold in the parking garage, since it’s technically underground, but the chill lingers and I’m desperate to get inside.
It takes me a few minutes to wheel and carry my luggage to the entrance. The doorman opens it and lets me inside.
“Miss Maxwell, it’s so nice to see you again. Did you have a nice trip?” he asks with a huge smile. Maybe he thinks I was on vacation.
“Good morning. I did. Thank you so much,” I say as I walk through the huge foyer. The gigantic chandelier glints overhead, marble floors shine underfoot, and gold accents touch almost every inch of the space. Residents mill about, and no one spares me a second glance.
“Do you need help getting to the elevator, Miss Maxwell?” the doorman calls after me.
I must look like I’m struggling as I lug my bags through the building, but I’m fine on my own.
“No, thank you,” I say over my shoulder. “Have a great day.” I muster a fake smile to hide my sadness.
As soon as I enter the elevator, I drop my bags and am finally able to breathe. I was only in that space for less than five minutes and I felt like I was going to burst. Seeing the cold looks and the rush of everyone around me is a stark contrast to the warmth and slow pace in Winterberry. It’s going to take some getting used to to get back into my old routines.
The elevator dings and the doors open to my foyer.
I quickly lug my bags into the space, with tears streaming down my face, and pause. Looking around at the place I call home, I can’t stop the unhappiness from taking over.
The tears from streaming.
The sobs from escaping.
I lean against the door and slide down, pulling my legs to my chest. I rest my chin on my knees and let it all out.
How am I ever going to call this place home again?
Chapter Thirty-Two
Brent
“Whatdoyoumeanshe’s gone?” I ask, staring at my mom.
The wrinkles on her forehead grow deeper and she slowly shakes her head in defeat. I put my arms around her shoulders and hug her tight. There’s a piece of paper on the table with a few ink smudges, like something wet splattered and dried.
“Here, she wrote it all here.” Mom hands me the note. “I need to get breakfast for our guests. Take your time.” She gets up from the table, patting my arm and making her way into the kitchen.
Sitting down in the chair, I slowly unfold the letter and read.
Dear Suzanne and Tom,
I’m not sure how to say this, and I’m not good at goodbyes, so I’m choosing to do it this way instead. The past few weeks in Winterberry, here at this inn, have been the best of my life. I came here, trying to be someone I’m not, and in the process, I found who I really am.
I’m so sorry for lying to all of you. It wasn’t my intention to cause any pain, but I realize I have. I also apologize for bringing the chaos of the paparazzi to your front door.
I want you to know that you will forever hold a piece of my heart, all of you, and I will always remember this Christmas.
