“Mmm. I seem to recall that the crisis was that the phone signal was unreliable, which is why we’ve done city breaks ever since. This place you’ve found looks amazing, but it’s not you. What’s going on?”
For a moment she considered telling her friend the truth. All of it, including the real reason she’d chosen this place. But if she told the truth, Anna would ask her lots of probing questions that Erica wasn’t ready to answer.
She wanted to tread cautiously. Anna would dive right in like an out-of-control puppy, creating havoc, and Erica would risk losing control of what happened next. She didn’t want to lose control. Whatever happened, or didn’t happen, she wanted it to be her decision.
“Nothing is going on. I knew the only way to tempt you from your nest at Christmas was to produce the perfect Christmas getaway complete with all the festive trimmings. Instead of the No-Phone-Signal Hotel Book Club, it’s the Christmassy Hotel Book Club. Do you want to come or not?”
“We’ve known each other for twenty years, Erica. I know when you’re keeping secrets.”
“Twenty years? There you go again, reminding me of my age. Pretty soon we’re going to be the Retirement Hotel Book Club.” Her phone beeped with another call and she checked the screen.
Jack.
Her heart jumped. That, she had not expected. Why was he calling her? He knew she was traveling this week.
She had a brief flashback to the night of her birthday, the long, leisurely dinner in a restaurant with jaw-dropping views over Manhattan. The food had been memorable, the wine delicious, but best of all was the company. Jack had made her laugh, and he’d made her feel fabulous. As if being forty was the beginning of a whole new exciting stage of her life. After dinner they’d gone back to her apartment...
She frowned, remembering. The sex had been different. Slower, more intense, more—intimate?
She stared at her phone. If Jack needed her company at an event he would have mentioned it when they were together. Or maybe it was something that had just come up, in which case he could leave a message.
She let the call go to voice mail and turned her attention back to Anna, who was still questioning Erica’s choice. “How did you even find this inn?”
She could imagine her friend’s reaction if she told the truth.
A private investigator.
“I was reading a feature on cozy winter stays.” And now she was beginning to wish she hadn’t suggested it. She could have gone on her own for a weekend to find the answers to the questions that were buzzing in her brain. She didn’t have to involve her friends. “I can find somewhere else if you prefer.”
“Don’t you dare! This place looks perfect,” Anna said. “Special. And we both know Claudia will approve because it has an award-winning restaurant and that’s the only bit that matters to her.”
“Right.”
Deep down had she been hoping her friend would express a preference for somewhere in the city? Or decide that she didn’t want to do this at all? That she would somehow stop Erica making what could turn out to be a huge mistake?
But far from talking her out of it, Anna seemed won over by the place.
“They have three rooms vacant. I just checked. Would they reserve them for a short time while I talk to the family? I want to see if they’re okay with it and I don’t want to lose those rooms in the meantime.”
Erica tried to imagine having to get three people’s permission before doing anything. Total nightmare. Apparently, hitting forty hadn’t changed her that much.
“I can call, but it’s only a couple of weeks away so no guarantee they will hold the rooms.”
“Your powers of persuasion are legendary. Twenty-four hours,” Anna said. “That’s all I need. And anyway, we can’t confirm until you’ve spoken to Claudia.”
“Fine, I’ll call them.”
She felt like Pandora, about to open the box.
If they lost the rooms, then that would be it. Decision made.
But if the rooms were available then this was actually going to happen, and in a few weeks she’d be checking in to the Maple Sugar Inn.
Which might turn out to be the worst idea of her life.
THREE
Claudia
Thousands of miles away in California, Claudia drove her fists into a punching bag.
Her thoughts worked in rhythm with her punches.
I—hate—you—John.
She pivoted and punched again.
I—hate—myself—for—trusting—you.
“Relax your shoulders.” Michelle, her trainer, was frowning. “Watch your form.”
Claudia stopped punching. Her hair was sticking to her forehead and her neck, and her heart was hammering against her rib cage.
“Drink,” Michelle advised. “And take a breather.”
Claudia tugged off her gloves, reached into her bag for her water and saw that she had two missed calls on her phone.
Erica.
She drank deeply and then dropped the bottle back in her bag. What would she have done without Erica the past couple of months? Most people knew Erica as a successful businesswoman with a reputation for plain speaking and ruthless focus. They didn’t know Erica the friend. They didn’t see her kindness and her loyalty. She checked on Claudia all the time. The weekend John had packed his things and moved out, leaving her in a state of shock, Erica had canceled her appointments and flown to California to be with Claudia. Claudia was a mess, but Erica had insisted on staying with her. In a crisis, there was no one better than Erica. She’d forced Claudia to take a shower and get dressed, she’d made her soup—a loving gesture, which Claudia had returned by eating the soup and managing to keep it down—Erica was a terrible cook. She’d helped box up the rest of John’s things and then she’d had them shipped to him to ensure he had no reason to come back. Claudia still remembered her words—you shouldn’t let rats into your apartment; it’s bad for your health. She’d had the locks changed, just to be sure. Most importantly, she’d turned off her phone and listened to Claudia. She’d listened for hours while Claudia had sobbed and ranted and tried to figure out how a relationship that had lasted ten years could suddenly end without warning. She hadn’t glanced at the time, or told Claudia to pull herself together, or seemed impatient to be somewhere else; she was just there.
And even when Erica had flown home and back to her busy schedule, she’d stayed in touch. If you need me, call, and if it’s urgent tell my assistant and he’ll get me out of whichever meeting I’m in.
Claudia hadn’t had to call Erica’s assistant—she could just imagine the embarrassment associated with that—but in her worst moments she’d been comforted by the knowledge that Erica was there if she needed her. Knowing that had been enough. Anna was there for her, too, but Anna had her family to care for and Claudia didn’t want to bother her. Erica had no actual blood relatives. Her friends were her family.
And on the whole, Claudia had been doing okay, until last week when she’d lost her job. Which just went to prove that whenever you thought life couldn’t get worse, it got worse.
Merry Christmas, Claudia.