Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

Nora hadn't set an alarm the night before, against all of her instincts, telling herself that she was on vacation. She woke up at eight-thirty, a full hour and a half later than she usually woke on a Thursday morning, and she told herself that was a small victory.

The sight of the cozy bedroom that she was staying in, first thing in the morning, was so quaint and beautiful that she couldn't help but smile in spite of herself. The bed was a birch four-poster, with soft cream-colored sheets and a buffalo-plaid duvet, made up with four soft pillows and a dark green throw blanket at the end of it. The nightstand and dresser matched, a juniper-scented candle next to the bed, and a wing chair with another green wool throw and a buffalo-plaid pillow next to the large window. The floor was dark, well-cared-for wood, with a sheepskin rug next to the bed, and it all felt so warm and comforting that Nora didn't even miss her apartment at home for a moment.

She'd decorated that to her tastes, made it into a haven, but this reminded her of something else. A feeling of family, of nostalgia, that she thought she could indulge for just a little while.

Then she looked down at her phone, picking it up to see if Rob had called or left her any messages, and her spirits sank again when she saw there was nothing.

He hadn't so much as checked in to ask her what her plans for the holidays were now, if she was staying in Boston, if she was okay. She'd nearly called or texted him a dozen times since he'd ended their engagement, stopping herself every time, but there hadn't been so much as a single message from him. So far as she knew, he didn't even know she'd gone back to Evergreen Hollow for Christmas.

Nora let out a sharp breath, dropping her phone back onto the nightstand and throwing back the covers. She slipped her feet into the fluffy slippers that had been waiting by the bed for her when she came up the night before, trudging to the attached bathroom in her pajamas. The bathroom was equally small and cozy—a standalone shower in one corner with a clawfoot tub below a small window, and a black granite countertop with rustic wooden cabinets below it. There was a porcelain bowl sink and an oval mirror above it, a guest basket filled with soaps and bath oils and lotion set neatly on the countertop next to a wooden shelf with folded towels and washcloths, all in dark green.

Nora rifled through the basket, taking out a bottle of eggnog-scented shower gel. She'd brought her own shampoo and conditioner from home, but she thought she should try to use at least some of the products that her mother went to so much effort to put out, just in the spirit of being home.

She bit her lip as she stepped into the shower, trying not to think about Rob. She hadn't cried over it since she'd boarded the plane to Vermont, and she told herself not to start crying over him again now. There was no point. It wouldn't change anything, and he wouldn't know or care. He didn't deserve her tears, and she knew both Melanie and her mother would say the same thing, if they saw her in the shower fighting back the wave of sadness that washed over her.

Getting ready for the day felt strange. She rummaged under the sink for a blow-dryer, finding one of the small hotel-sized ones that would take ages to dry all of her thick, long hair. She set about the task anyway, clipping up most of it atop her head and going section by section, spraying heat protectant and detangler until her hair was smooth and straight and glossy.

At home, she would have had a half-dozen more products scattered across her counter, along with makeup, but she'd decided to make an effort to tone things down a little back home. She knew exactly the sorts of looks she would get if she hung out in Evergreen Hollow with perfectly straightened hair and a full face of makeup, but there was only so much she could do. Even with her hair just blow-dried, her face bare except for her thorough skin-care routine, and her skinny jeans and cashmere sweater, she looked out of place.

She looked too polished, too perfect. It was a look she'd spent years cultivating, with expensive skin care and designer clothes and a hairdresser that she trusted with her life to keep her grays covered and her hair perfectly cut and colored, but here it stuck out. The sweater was obviously expensive, the jeans an even dark wash that screamed designer, the tiny diamond studs in her ears that she had thought were subtle when she packed them shouting that she no longer belonged here.

Nora bit her lip, walking back out to the bedroom and sinking back down onto the bed to pull on her black velvet ankle boots—shoes that, she realized now, were entirely out of place in the heavy Vermont snow. The town did their best to keep paths cleared, but it wouldn't be as efficiently done as it was in Boston.

She'd brought Hunter boots, and although designer snow boots seemed to once again scream that she no longer belonged here, she swapped her velvet booties out for those instead.

At least she'd look as if she tried.

She headed down the stairs, the scent of breakfast wafting up as she walked into the living room. The dining room was just past that—a room bordering the kitchen with a long, well-loved wooden table covered in a holiday runner and set with the China that the inn had been using for as long as Nora could remember. A gingerbread-scented candle was burning on the sideboard, and a large window took up most of one side of the room, looking out to the property beyond. It was a vista of pristine snow, dotted with more maples, a winding stone path leading out through them for anyone who might want to take a post-breakfast walk.

There were only three other guests at the table, Nora noticed. An older couple sitting side by side, sipping coffee and talking quietly as they looked out at the view, and a woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties, typing away at a laptop with a mug next to her. Someone on a writing retreat, Nora thought, as she walked quickly through the dining room before anyone could say anything to her, and into the kitchen.

Rhonda was at the stove, pulling what Nora saw was a pan of mini quiches out of the oven. She set them on the counter, beaming at her daughter as Nora walked in.

"So that's what I smelled. They look delicious."

"I made your favorite. Ham and cheese. Here, I'll get you one. No, sit down. You don't need to do anything." Rhonda waved a hand as she reached for one of the China plates, scooping a quiche onto it and walking to the smaller table that Nora had sat down at with the plate and a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. "I'll get you some coffee. Creamer?" Ever the caretaker, she was quick to get breakfast together before Nora could protest that she could serve it herself, and not put her mother out.

"Whatever you have is fine." Nora picked up her fork, cutting off a piece of the quiche. It was soft and smelled incredible, and she could remember what it would taste like before she even took a bite. The ham and eggs and cheese would have come from a local farm, and Rhonda had perfected the recipe over years. "I'm not picky."

Rhonda laughed, taking a bottle of creamer out of the fridge and pouring a little into a mug of coffee. "We both know that's not true. But there's nothing wrong with it." She poured herself a cup too, coming to sit down for a moment next to Nora.

"The guests must either eat early or late these days," Nora remarked, taking another bite of the quiche. "There was hardly anyone in the dining room. Oh wow, I forgot how good this was."

"I'm sure it can't live up to some of those fancy brunch places in the city, but I do my best." A shadow briefly passed over Rhonda's face. "Business has been a bit slow lately."

Nora looked up at her mother, surprised. She had no idea that things had slowed down at the inn, and she felt a sharp stab of concern. The holiday season was usually one of the busiest. Evergreen Hollow had made itself into something of a Christmas destination, the perfect picturesque Vermont town, and Nora had been expecting to come downstairs to a full table. But now that she thought about it, it had been odd that the living room had been so empty the night before too—no guests sitting by the fire and playing chess or checkers or reading, no one sipping cocoa or a glass of mulled wine.

She took another sip of her coffee, on the verge of asking how long things had been that way, when the back door opened and Nora saw her eldest sister kicking snow off of her boots.

The moment Caroline stepped into the kitchen and saw Nora, Nora could feel the tension starting to thicken in the air.

All of it came rushing back in an instant, tightening Nora's chest—all of the reasons for their estrangement and why she'd been so hesitant to come home and deal with her sister on top of the hurt from her breakup. It had been more than a decade since their falling-out, since Caroline had called Nora selfish and thoughtless for taking off for Boston with Rob instead of staying home and helping with the inn after their mother's surgery, but it still stung as if the argument had happened yesterday.

There had been times when Nora had wanted to reach out. But Caroline never had, and Nora couldn't make herself be the first one to do so. Like so many other things dealing with ‘back home', she'd told herself that she would deal with it later, put it off for another day. Days turned into weeks, months, and years—and now she was sitting at the small family table in the kitchen, looking at her sister's blue-eyed glare from across the room.

Caroline's gaze swept over Nora, and Nora felt her cheeks burn. It was exactly the look she'd been imagining when she got ready. Caroline looked the same as she always had, if a bit older—no nonsense, with her slightly graying brown hair pulled back in a low ponytail and not a speck of makeup highlighting her narrowed blue-gray eyes. She was the tallest in the family, nearly as tall as their father, and it made Nora feel even smaller than usual, even from a distance. She was wearing the same faded, worn jeans that she always had, a flannel with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows despite the cold, and a pair of duck boots that had hints of chicken feed still clinging to the laces.

She had always been the most casual of the sisters, but Nora felt the difference more glaringly than ever with that one sweeping look.

Caroline had never made any secret of what she thought about Nora and her preferences, or the life she chose—but it had all come out more bluntly than ever in that final argument.

All you want is glamor and money. It's all superficial, and you can't even see it. Clothes that cost too much and hours spent on things that don't matter, a job throwing parties that could be done for a fraction of the cost with a lot more love. You're leaving people who love you for a soulless city, to work at the beck and call of people who don't care a thing about you. Here, at least your work is appreciated. Everything you do matters. It matters to your family most of all. But you don't care about that. You just care about looking like you walked out of one of those magazines you spent all your allowance on when we were kids.

Nora could still hear it all, ringing in her ears. Caroline had always thought she was silly and superficial. That the hard work that Caroline had done since they were teenagers, caring for the animals and learning how to do maintenance around the place from their father and always being the one to take responsibility meant that she was the one who knew what was right. That Nora running off to Boston meant that she was shirking her duty to her family—and that her eagerness to get away was a fundamental flaw.

They'd gotten into another fight, that one visit home. Nora had come back, in her designer clothes and with stories about her job in Boston, and Caroline had scoffed at all of it.

I work hard at my job. It's not my fault I like to look good while I do it. Nora had sniped at her sister, tired of being torn down. And Caroline had been just as quick to bite back.

It doesn't matter how much varnish you put on particle board, it's still not real wood. Nothing about your life is real. Everything here is.

Caroline let out a long breath, bringing Nora back to the here and now. "I'm surprised you came back to lowly Evergreen Hollow for the holidays," she said finally, the words flat and toneless. "Boston must be more exciting this time of year, right?"

A faint, pinched line appeared immediately between Rhonda's brows, a familiar sight that Nora was used to, when she and Caroline were in the same room. "Be kind to your sister, Caroline," Rhonda murmured gently. "Just enjoy having her back, all right? There's no need to be rude to each other. Plenty of time has passed."

Nora set her fork down, her appetite gone. She'd forgotten, ever so briefly, how difficult it was to be in the same room with her sister—and now she was kicking herself for having forgotten it at all. That twisting feeling in her stomach returned, making her wonder once again if this had all been a mistake.

Caroline let out a sharp breath. "I'm glad you're back here for the holidays with us, Nora." There was some genuineness in her words peeking through, but they were still stiff. Nora could tell that she was still biting back what she really wanted to say.

"I'm glad to be here." Nora poked at the quiche, but she couldn't bring herself to take another bite. A small part of her had hoped that Caroline would have forgotten about the divide between them, but it was still there, as wide as ever.

"See? That wasn't so difficult, girls." Rhonda smiled at both of her daughters. "Now, Caroline, what did you need?"

Caroline cleared her throat, glancing once more at Nora before turning to her mother. "I was looking for Dad. He has some of the tools I need to fix the water heater."

Despite herself, Nora couldn't help but be impressed. Caroline had always liked learning from their father, but it was clear she'd become even more handy in the years since Nora had left. She just wished that Caroline didn't have to be so smug about it, as if she were the one holding everything together, while Nora did nothing at all with her life.

Just because my life isn't what she would want doesn't mean it's worthless. Nora pushed the thought down, trying to stuff the resentment down along with it. She had never wanted to run the inn, and Caroline had always seemed to think that was a fault. That not wanting to own a bed and breakfast was somehow a character flaw.

"Go check out front," Rhonda said, still looking at her older daughter. "I think he might be on the porch." She glanced back at Nora as Caroline walked away. " Try to get along with your sister. I know she can be difficult, but she means well. She's just trying to look out for us all."

Nora let out a short, sharp breath. "I'll try. But I can't make any promises."

"That's all I ask." Rhonda got up, reaching for the plates, and Nora started to stand too.

"Is there anything I can help with?"

Rhonda shook her head, waving a hand at her daughter. "Don't worry about it. Go see Melanie at the coffee shop, why don't you? Get reacquainted with Evergreen Hollow a bit. It's been so long since you've been back."

"All right." Nora nodded, leaning in to give her mother a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Whatever concerns she had about being home, she was glad to see her mother again.

She went to get her coat, drawing in a deep breath. It was time to make herself at home again. As much as she'd be able to anyway—considering the fact that she had no intention of staying.

Not past the holidays anyway.