A Wedding in December

“What?” She never slept naked. She favored snuggly pajamas that kept out the winter chill. “How did I get to bed?”

“I put you there.”

“Oh this is bad.” She took the glass in both hands and took a mouthful. Why did it feel awkward that he’d seen her naked, when they’d been together for more than thirty years? “Did I—I remember that we met Dan.”

“Yes. And you liked him. You liked him a lot.”

She stared at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t ‘nothing’ me. Was I rude to Dan?”

“No, you were very—affectionate and welcoming.”

“I don’t like the sound of that. And what about us?” A horrid thought struck her. “Did they guess that we’re getting a divorce? Did I say something? I intended to show them how much in love we are.”

“You definitely did that.” Humor flickered in Nick’s eyes. He put his hand in his pocket and pulled out two painkillers. “I thought you might need these.”

She swallowed them without arguing. “Was I embarrassing?”

“Entertaining would be the word I’d use. I’ve ordered a crate of champagne from Dan’s mother. We’re having a bottle a night for the rest of our stay.”

How could he joke about it? And how could he look so disgustingly good after that long flight? He obviously hadn’t drunk as much as she had.

He was wearing a navy cable-knit sweater and a pair of heavy-duty hiking pants that had survived the rigors of his job. No matter where he was, Nick always looked at home in his surroundings.

She handed back the glass. “You’ll be drinking it by yourself. I am never, ever drinking again as long as I live.”

After a few sips of coffee, she felt a little more human. Human enough to take in her surroundings. She was in a tree house. An actual tree house. The bedroom was suspended high above the living area, the open aspect allowing access to the same forest and mountain views through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The remaining three walls were made of glass. They were enclosed by jagged peaks, and all around them was forest, trees stretching high, branches bending under the weight of snow. As she watched, the snow tumbled off a branch and drifted past the window in a gentle avalanche of white.

Everything in the room blended with the surroundings, from the carved wooden bed frame to the luxurious cream throw draped over the bottom of the bed. It was the feather-soft bedding that had presumably kept her warm while she’d slept naked.

“This place is incredible.” She glanced at Nick and noticed now that his eyes were tired and he hadn’t shaved. “Where did you sleep?”

“On the couch. Luxury compared to some of the places I’ve slept in my time.” He stood up. “The bathroom is downstairs.”

“Thank you. Where’s my suitcase?”

He paused. “You don’t remember?”

“What am I supposed to remember?”

“The airline lost your suitcase.”

“What? No! The presents. My gifts for the girls were in there.” And not only the gifts. Maggie thought about all the shopping trips she’d endured trying to find exactly the right dress to wear at the wedding. She didn’t love what she’d found, but it was the best of all the options she’d tried. And now it was gone, and if it didn’t turn up she was going to have to start again. Not only that, but her research had told her that anything she bought here in Aspen was going to cost her a fortune.

But it wasn’t only her dress that was the problem. Apart from the ones she’d worn for the journey, all her clothes had been in that suitcase. Her favorite red sweater that she always wore at Christmas. Her pajamas.

“I’ve left a shirt and a sweater in the bathroom for you. Put those on for now, and we’ll make a plan to replace your luggage later.”

“Replace it? Why can’t we wait for it to arrive?”

He hesitated. “I called the airline an hour ago. At the moment they haven’t managed to locate your case.”

“How is that possible? I thought everything was electronic these days. Can’t they track it?”

“Something went wrong with the tracking. We don’t know if, or when, it will arrive.”