A Wedding in December

“I think they provide a stair gate if you need one.” She hesitated. “Dad, is everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be okay?”

“I don’t know. I—” She shrugged, not sure whether it was a good idea to voice her feelings. She wanted it to all be in her imagination. “Ignore me. I’m sure you’re right, it’s the stress of the flight, that’s all. The fridge should be stocked, so if you’re hungry—”

“We’ll have an early night and see you in the morning.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.” She could hear her mother humming a song about a lonesome pine and made a hasty retreat.

Dan was leaning against the railing that surrounded the deck, his eyes amused. “You remind me of a zookeeper who just managed to cage a dangerous wild animal without losing a limb. Everything okay in there?”

“Yes.” If you ignored the fact that her mother was about to run around the cabin naked. And was apparently deeply unhappy with her life. “I think we should go. Your mum is probably waiting and I should tell her that my parents won’t be joining us.”

“There’s no rush. I already called her. She’s totally cool with it all. Do your parents have everything they need? Why did you stop me coming in?”

“Because there’s only so much embarrassment a girl can stand in one day, and I already hit my quota.”

“Why are you embarrassed?”

“You’re seriously asking me that?” She trudged past him toward the car. “If I’d known my mother would be drunk, I wouldn’t have asked you to come with me to the airport.”

“I wouldn’t have let you do that drive alone.”

She stopped and turned. “Are you being sexist?”

“No, I’m being caring.” He caught up with her. “You don’t know these roads the way I do. I’ve been coming here summer and winter almost all my life. And you’re used to driving on the wrong side of the road.”

“It’s not the wrong side where I come from. And I’m a great driver.”

“You are a great driver, apart from those moments when you forget which side of the road you’re supposed to drive on.”

“That happened twice, and on both occasions I saw a car coming at me in my lane and swerved back in plenty of time.”

“That was when I took up drinking.” He looped his arm around her shoulders. “I’m kidding. You’re a great driver, but it’s a long journey and two people makes it easier. And now you need to relax. Your mom was terrified of flying, so she had a drink. Don’t overthink it.”

“It’s not the drinking, it’s all the things she said. My mother basically told us that she hates her life.”

“People don’t always say what they mean when they’ve had a few drinks.”

“And sometimes they say exactly what they mean.” Was there something else her mother would have wanted to do? “My mother took the job in publishing when she graduated, and she’s worked there ever since. I assumed it was what she wanted to do. I mean, if someone is doing something, you assume it’s what they want, don’t you?”

“Maybe, although I’m sure most of the population don’t end up doing their dream job.”

They crunched through fresh snow on their way back to the car. The air was bitterly cold and flavored with wood smoke and the smell of pine.

She felt the weight of his arm resting on her shoulders. “Did your mother always want to be a wedding planner?”

“No, but looking back on it the clues were always there. She organized her own birthday party at six years old. It was themed and she hand made the invitations.”

“How do you know that?”

“Great-Aunt Eunice told me. Also, there are photographs. My mother has been arranging parties ever since. She organized four of her friends’ weddings.” He stooped and picked up a pine cone. “Moving here permanently from our home in Boston, and setting up the wedd

ing business was a way of processing the loss of my father, but it turned out to be the best thing she could have done. She loves this place, and she loves the work.”

“Right.” So his mother was living the dream, while hers—she frowned. Did her mother even have dreams? “My mother was an only child, and my grandparents died before I was born so I don’t have any stories like that. All of a sudden I feel as if I don’t know her.”

“Of course you know her. It’s probably not something you think about much, that’s all. We never do when it’s our parents. What does she do in her spare time?”