One Summer in Paris(123)

No. No! She wasn’t going to turn into that sort of mother. This was Rosie’s special day, not hers. Her feelings didn’t matter.

‘What can I do to help?’

‘Just get yourselves here. Catherine can’t wait to meet you. I know you’ll love her.’

Maggie wondered what Rosie had said about her. My mother works in medical publishing. She loves baking and gardening. To a high-flying celebrity wedding planner she probably sounded as exciting as yesterday’s laundry.

‘I’m looking forward to meeting her.’

‘Can I speak to Dad? I want to hear his voice.’

Maggie gripped the phone. She hadn’t anticipated this. ‘I…um…he’s not here right now.’

‘It’s the middle of the night. How can he not be there?’

Maggie searched frantically for a plausible explanation.

She could hear Nick’s voice: For goodness’ sake, Mags, this is absurd. It’s time to tell the truth.

But the truth was the last thing Rosie needed to hear on the day of her engagement. She would not spoil her daughter’s big moment.

‘He’s gone for a walk.’

‘A walk? At three in the morning? Have you guys bought a dog or something?’

‘No. Your dad was working on a paper until late and he couldn’t sleep. But he should be back any minute.’

She’d always raised the girls to tell the truth, and here she was lying like a pro.

‘Get him to call me the moment he walks through the door.’

‘Won’t you be asleep by then?’

Rosie giggled. ‘It’s only eight o’clock in the evening here. Will you get him to call me back?’

Unable to think of an excuse, Maggie promised that Nick would call as soon as he came in, and after a few more excited words ended the call.

She sat for a moment, then walked to the window. It was dark outside, but the moon sent a ghostly glow across the village green. In the summer it was the venue for cricket, and in the winter the trees were decked with tiny fairy lights, paid for by the village council. There had been an outcry at a proposal to divert traffic through the centre of the village.

Maggie guessed they didn’t have those problems in Aspen. Nobody was likely to have to fight the potential demise of the local bus service, or a plan to open the library only two days a week.

Unable to see an alternative, she picked up the phone and dialled Nick’s number.

It rang and rang, but Maggie persevered.

Nick’s ability to sleep through anything was something that she’d both resented and envied when the children were young. It had been Maggie who had dragged herself from their bed every half an hour when Rosie was tiny, and Maggie who had borne the brunt of the asthma attacks even when Nick had been home between trips.

Eventually he picked up the phone with a grunt. ‘’lo…?’

‘Nick?’

‘Maggie?’

His voice was rough with sleep and she could imagine him shaking himself awake like a bear waking from hibernation.

‘You need to call Rosie.’

‘Now? In the middle of the night? What’s wrong?’ To give him his due, he was instantly concerned. ‘Is she in the hospital?’

‘No. She has news.’

Should she tell him or leave Rosie to tell him herself? In the end she decided to tell him. Nick tended to be blunt in his responses and she didn’t want him spoiling Rosie’s moment.

‘She and Dan are getting married.’ She heard the tinkling of glass and Nick cursing fluently. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Knocked a glass of water over.’

Nick was a professor of Egyptology, ridiculously intelligent and endearingly clumsy with everyday items. At least Maggie had found it endearing in the beginning. It had become less endearing as the years had passed and he’d broken half her favourite china. She’d used to joke that he was so used to dealing with pottery fragments he didn’t know how to handle an entire piece.

‘She and Dan are getting married in Colorado at Christmas.’

‘This Christmas? The one happening next month?’

‘That’s the one. Dan’s family own a hotel. I’ve forgotten what it’s called.’

‘Snowfall Lodge.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Rosie mentioned it when she told me about her plans for Thanksgiving. Goodness… Married… I didn’t see that one coming. Our little Rosie. Always doing the unexpected.’

There was a pause and she heard rustling in the background and the click of a light switch.

‘How do you feel?’ he asked.

Sad. Lost. Confused. Anxious.

She wasn’t sure how many of those feelings could be attributed to Rosie’s news.

‘I feel fine.’ That was as much of a lie as letting Rosie think Nick was out for a walk and would soon be back in bed with her. ‘It’s Rosie’s life and she should do what she wants to do.’

‘What about Christmas? I know how important it is to you.’

‘We’ll still be having Christmas—just not at Honeysuckle Cottage. The wedding is planned for Christmas Eve.’ She didn’t quite manage to keep the wobble from her voice.

‘Are you going to go?’