“What do you think of Martha’s Vineyard?” Rachel asked.
Charlotte was always so proud of how thoughtful her daughter was. Most teenagers (herself included, she thought) would have shrugged and walked away, rather than drumming up a conversation.
“I haven’t seen much of it, to be honest,” Everett said. “I just arrived last night, met your Aunt Lola and Aunt Christine at a bar, then collapsed at the Sunrise Cove Inn. I guess I have a lot of exploring to do, although I don’t know how much I’ll manage since the rehearsal dinner is already tomorrow.”
Rachel scrunched her nose. “It’s going to be such a mess. Ursula is a real... character.”
“Character is one word for it,” Everett said. “I photographed her once at the Oscars. She insulted almost every other photographer in line with me.”
“Not you?” Charlotte asked.
“For some reason, she gave me a pass,” Everett said. “I’ll never know why. To be honest, I’m sure she had an insult ready to hurl at me, but then she had to move on down the red carpet.”
Rachel giggled. Charlotte slipped her fork through the cinnamon-baked apples and dotted a few of them across her tongue. She closed her eyes at the perfect sugary-sweetness.
“Christine. You’ve outdone yourself,” she said. “If that cake is anything like this...”
Christine scoffed. “Yeah, right. I took ages on that cake. If that cake isn’t one thousand times better than this apple pie, then I’ll eat my hand.”
“Baby, I love your hand. Don’t eat it,” Zach said playfully.
Just after eight-thirty, Charlotte admitted that she had to return home to continue work. Susan groaned and said, “You promised you wouldn’t work today!”
At this, Everett said, “Admittedly, I already found her hard at work in the spare bedroom.”
“Charlotte! You didn’t,” Susan said, feigning anger.
“I can’t believe you tattled on me,” Charlotte said. Fluidly, she wrapped a scarf round and round her neck, capturing her long tresses beneath. Her heart bulged in her chest, proof that she felt something. Then again, maybe it was just the wine.
Everett lifted his hands and said, “I would never tell a lie. Not on Thanksgiving.”
“What about Valentine’s Day?” Audrey said from the living area, where she was hard at work on what seemed to be her third piece of pie.
“Never,” Everett said. At this, his cheeks brightened to a funny shade of pink.
A silence widened between them. They studied one another for a long moment. Charlotte couldn’t believe it: she had just spent the previous hours joking and laughing with this really handsome, really successful man like it was any other day.
And she hadn’t really thought of Jason once.
What did that mean?
Did she regret that?
“I think I’ll walk back to the Sunrise Cove Inn,” Everett said suddenly.
In the corner, Audrey whistled.
That girl really had zero self-control.
“Oh?” Charlotte said.
“I guess that means you three will walk to town together,” Susan said. “It’s the same route.”
“Great,” Everett said.
“And Everett, I insist that you use Dad’s old coat,” Susan said. “Like he said, he hasn’t worn the thing since the seventies. It’ll get much more wear out there than it will in here.” She then leaned forward to whisper, “Plus, he can’t stop buying new winter clothes from catalogs. I didn’t even know people ordered from catalogs anymore. Frankly, he’s just as bad as a woman when it comes to shopping.”
Both Everett and Charlotte laughed, both grateful to have something to think about that wasn’t whatever this physical attraction was between them.
Or whatever it was.
Maybe it wasn’t physical.
It had been a long time since Charlotte had made a new friend.
Maybe this was what it felt like?
Charlotte watched as both Rachel and Everett shrugged into their winter coats. Christine rushed forward to shove a plate of pie into Everett’s hands.
“You probably don’t have much to snack on back at the Inn. The bistro will be open tomorrow, but there won’t be much going on. Zach’s hired a substitute to work over the wedding weekend to serve the few guests. I don’t want you to go hungry.” She pondered this for a moment, and then added, “If you want more food, we usually keep that door wide open. We always come in and out and take from the fridge as we like. I hope you know you can do the same.”
Everett looked overwhelmed. Charlotte wanted to protest, like, Sorry, my family is so overbearing.
But in reality, it was kind of nice, wasn’t it? That her family had spread her arms so wide for this stranger?
She didn’t want to belong to any other kind of family.
Outside, winter magic spread like a shimmering blanket across Martha’s Vineyard. Charlotte lifted her eyes toward the moon, dropped low in the night sky and casting everything in bluish light.
“They really don’t make nights like these out west,” Everett said.
“I’ve never been,” Charlotte said. “Maybe I don’t want to.”
Everett laughed. He stepped forward first, crunching through the first layer of snow. “I relish that sound,” he said. “It’s delicious. Like cracking the top of a crème brulee.”
“Ha. I’ve never thought of it like that,” Charlotte admitted.
Rachel scampered up ahead, crafting her own deep footsteps in the snow. Charlotte and Everett walked behind, both wordless. Charlotte could feel it: he wanted to know why her father had mentioned that “disaster” in his prayer. He had given her away.
But she was a widow. That was her reality.
It’s wasn’t like she wanted to hide it.
Still, it wasn’t the most fun topic of conversation.
When they reached town, Everett suddenly ducked to the side, grabbed a big bunch of snow, formed a super-fast snowball, and whacked it against Charlotte’s stomach.
It all happened so fast that Charlotte only had time to scream.
Rachel whipped around at the sound and looked at them, bug-eyed. After a long, frozen moment, both Charlotte and Everett burst into laughter.
Suddenly, the war began.
It was every man for him or herself.
Charlotte rushed toward the post office, where she drew together the first of many snowballs, spun around, and smashed a ball directly in Rachel’s back. Rachel hollered and turned to
