Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Caroline

T he crunch of gravel under the tires stirs me from a deep sleep and I blink awake, peering out the window of Calvin's SUV. The scene is straight out of a picture book, a stark contrast to the bustling streets of New York. Towering snow-laden evergreens frame the drive, blocking the view of the house. In the distance I see an endless sea of rolling white hills.

"Welcome to my humble abode," Calvin says with a warm smile as he brings the car to a stop.

I yawn and step out. Huge mistake.

The frigid air shocks me into full awake mode, like taking a double shot of Red Bull while standing naked in Iceland. As bitter cold as Manhattan was, this is a whole new level. It has to be twenty below. I jump back into the car to a laughing Calvin and set my hands onto the heating vents.

"There's an adjustment period to Vermont winters."

"Now you tell me. I can't feel my face."

Calvin reaches into the back seat and hands me a gray wool cap that looks two inches thick. It's hideous.

"Here," he says. "Put this on. Most body heat exits from the head."

"I'd rather turn into a block of ice than put that thing on my head."

Calvin smirks. "Have it your way but unless you ran track in college and can make it to the front door in under fifteen seconds, that's exactly what you'll be."

I look at him in horror and grab the hat, pulling it over my brow. I know I look a fright but the choice is death or beauty. I guess I'm not so vain, after all.

We step out together and I bolt around the bend, coming to full stop.

The house is pale blue with white shutters. It's delightfully charming with a wrap-around porch adorned with twinkling lights and a wreath of fir and holly on the door. Icicles hang off the eaves like nature's chandeliers, glistening in the afternoon sun. Smoke billows upward from the stone chimney. It's idyllic.

Calvin comes up beside me with my suitcase.

"It's beautiful," I say, my breath turning icy as it makes contact with the air.

Calvin leads me up the steps. "Come on, let's go inside."

He's pulling a key from his pocket when the door springs opens and I fall back into Calvin. He reacts quickly, one arm around my waist, keeping me vertical.

"Auntie Pearl!" he cries.

Regrettably, he lets go of me as the elderly woman steps aside. Her rotund shape is wrapped in what looks like a ski outfit. All white, like her hair. If Frosty the Snowman had a granny, this woman would be it.

"Come on in, you two. Get out of the cold. I made a fresh batch of cider."

We hurry past her, relieved to be inside. The home's interior is a blend of rustic and cozy. A fire crackles in the stone fireplace, casting a warm glow over the room. The scent of pine mingles with something sweet and homey. Apples and cinnamon. There's a plush sofa with knitted throws and built-in shelves filled with books.

The woman closes the door and I'm warm once again. Maybe I'll wait until spring to venture back outside.

Calvin sets my suitcase beside the staircase and bends down, planting a kiss on his aunt's cheek. "I missed you."

"Same. Ready to move back home?"

Calvin offers a closed-lip smile. I gather this is a topic nearly as old as the woman.

"Thanks for getting the place up and running," Calvin says. He turns to me. "Caroline, this is my Aunt Pearl, my grandmother's sister."

"Of blessed memory," Pearl says, then adding, "I'm the younger sister." She winks. This lady has spunk.

"Auntie, I'll give Caroline the tour, then we'll come down for cider," Calvin says.

We peel off a slew of layers and Calvin leads me into the rustic yet chic kitchen. Copper pots hang from a rack above the island, and a vintage stove takes center stage. The countertops are cluttered with jars of homemade preserves and freshly baked cookies.

"I'm confused. I thought this was your house."

Calvin chuckles. "It is, but when I told Aunt Pearl that I was bringing you here, she decided to take the bull by the horns. Looks like she's been baking." He grabs a cookie and downs it in two bites. "Best in the world," he moans.

"Does she live here?"

"Nope. She lives about a mile up the road. I've suggested a retirement home but she'll hear nothing of it. She's got the energy of a woman half her age and likes her independence."

He opens the fridge and I can see it's fully stocked. Calvin grabs a container of milk and fills two glasses. "You have to dunk the cookies for optimal effect."

I do as I'm told.

The cookie is indeed heavenly. I would ask for the recipe but I don't bake. I can't recall the last time I fired up my oven. Or where it is, precisely.

I am a diehard foodie but only when said food is prepared for me, optimally by the chef of a Michelin-rated restaurant.

Calvin shows me the dining room next, where a large wooden table is set for two and I wonder why he needs something so big for only him. Lit candles and evergreen branches create a festive centerpiece. "Um, what's this about?"

"Auntie is a romantic. She probably thinks we're um . . . together." Calvin looks away.

"Why would she think that?"

"I suppose when she heard I was bringing a woman up here, she jumped to conclusions."

Okaaay.

As I follow him up the stairs, I wonder how Aunt Pearl will react when she hears I'll be staying here alone.

We turn right at the landing and enter a cozy bedroom with a view of the snow-covered landscape. The bed is piled high with quilts, and a reading nook by the window beckons me to curl up with a good book.

"Do you like it?" he asks, his eyes searching mine for any hint of regret.

"I love it. It's so different from what I'm used to, but in the best way." My heart swells with gratitude. Calvin was right. This is exactly what I need. Peace and quiet. "Thank you for bringing me here."

Calvin's eyes soften as he looks at me and he comes closer. Our eyes lock and I forget about all the chaos I left behind. His breath is coming faster, while I can barely breathe. My body tingles from my head to my toes. Like the forceful pull of a magnet, I take a step toward him and?—

"Come and get it!"

Aunt Pearl's voice is as resonant as a drill sergeant's. Calvin clears his throat and I swallow hard, unsure of what just happened.

"We should probably go downstairs," Calvin says, sounding hoarse.

We find Aunt Pearl in the kitchen, pouring three glasses of steaming cider. "Storm coming."

Calvin and I look out the window at the same time. Not a cloud in the sky.

But there's no doubt about it. Something in the air is shifting.

Big time.