A Country Affair(103)

Denise brought out her brochure with pictures of the towns and cities where the ship would stop. “Isn’t it magical?”

It did look magical. The brochure showed her town centers with fountains and cobbled streets, stately ancient churches with their spires piercing the sky, pictures of the Christmas markets all lit up and thronged with happy shoppers. And there was a picture of the boat, all decked out in lights.

It was indeed. And tempting.

“We can split the cost of the room,” Denise continued, “and I’m sure my travel agent can work things out with the cruise company to get you on the plane since Janelle only pooped out on me yesterday. Your passport’s up-to-date, right?”

“It is.” Catherine had been looking forward to using it after Bill retired. She’d never gotten the chance.

“Then dust it off and let’s go. After we get back you can have Christmas with me and Carrie and the girls.”

A trip down the Rhine River, checking out scenic towns and bustling Christmas markets or sitting home alone, yearning for the past, being miserable in the present and worrying about the future—decisions, decisions.

“All right,” said Catherine. Why not? “You talked me into it.” Suddenly, the month of December was looking much brighter. Almost merry.

“Should you be traveling?” asked her daughter when she mentioned it during a phone conversation later that night.

Lila had called to see if Mom could come stay with the kids the night of James’s office Christmas party and had been shocked to hear her mother wouldn’t be around.

“I think I’ll be fine. I’m feeling pretty good.”

“It’s only been three weeks since your surgery.”

“I know. But my energy’s starting to come back. I’m fine. Anyway, it will have been over a month by the time we go.”

“You shouldn’t be traveling halfway across the world all by yourself,” Lila said firmly.

“I won’t be by myself. I’ll be with Denise. Anyway, I want to do something fun this December.”

There was a long moment of silence. Did Lila think Catherine was guilting her? Hmm. Maybe she was, just a little.

“I still think it’s a bad idea, but it’s your decision.”

No kidding. “Yes, it is.”

Lila heaved a sigh. “I’d better start calling around for a babysitter.”

“Yes, you had.” Because Catherine was going to have a life.

Fifty branded Christmas ornaments successfully ordered online and shipped to the office of Tilly’s Timeless Treasures for their annual Christmas party; holiday chocolate sampler boxes found for a wedding planner who needed them for an upcoming wedding; twelve special gifts bought for Harry Davis, Realtor, for his upcoming office party...and a partridge in a pear tree.

Sophie Miles set aside her laptop and stretched. All in a day’s work for a professional shopper. She sneezed. Was she coming down with something? This would not be a good time to catch a cold, with the holidays right around the corner. Not that she had any big plans other than hanging out at her parents’ house for Christmas.

Of course, hanging out at her parents’ was a good thing. Hanging out by herself, well, at this point in her life it wasn’t exactly what she’d planned. She’d figured she’d at least have a boyfriend in tow.

Being thirty and single at Christmas, with no hub, no kids, sucked. Being thirty and single sucked, period. She was pretty, she knew that. Blonde, blue-eyed, nice butt. She didn’t have the biggest boobs in the world, but they were okay. She had good teeth. She was kind. She liked kids and football and wasn’t too bad in the kitchen. Or the bedroom. Yet here she was, still single. Just because she had some health concerns sometimes.

“Sometimes?” her last boyfriend had echoed. “Everything’s an emergency with you, Sophie. You’ve always got something. Or you think you’re getting something. Or you’re worried you’re gonna get something.”

That was an exaggeration. And it was only natural to worry. New viruses popped up all the time and people needed to take their health seriously.

“He does have a point,” her sister, Sierra, had said when Sophie tried to cry on her shoulder. “You can get a little squirrelly. That’s scary to some guys. I mean, I get it, but—”

“I am not a squirrel,” Sophie had insisted. “I’m just in touch with my body.”

“Right. That’s why you thought you had throat cancer last year when all you had was acid reflux. Then there was the time we all stayed at that cabin in the mountains and you were sure you’d been bit by a tick and had Lyme disease, and the time you swallowed that corn nut and—”

“Never mind,” Sophie had said, cutting off her sister before the list could grow any longer.

Just because a woman was vigilant about her health, it didn’t make her squirrelly or a hypochondriac. Cuts could get infected. So could insect bites. Colds could turn into bronchitis and bronchitis into pneumonia. You could pick up the flu virus simply by touching an elevator button. (Which was why Sophie always pushed those buttons with her knuckle. Or better yet, her elbow.) It was important to be aware of your environment, especially after what people had gone through when COVID-19 hit. That wasn’t squirrelly. That was preventive medicine.

Speaking of, she went to the shelf in her kitchen cupboard dedicated to her many bottles of vitamins, minerals and herbs, and took out her chewable vitamin C. Sneezes turned into colds in a heartbeat.