“Read them?” Erica frowned. “You mean like a novel?”
“Yes, she does mean that. It’s what she does when she’s stressed,” Anna reminded her. “You know the story—when she was eight she discovered all her grandmother’s old French cookery books and read them cover to cover.”
It was true. She’d sat cross-legged on the floor of her grandmother’s bedroom, reading her way through dusty books, with a French dictionary by her side. Her grandmother had discovered her there and invited her to join her in the kitchen.
I will teach you the five mother sauces of classical French cuisine.
At her grandmother’s side she learned about the great French chefs, Marie-Antoine Carême and Georges-Auguste Escoffier. With her grandmother’s hand over hers, she’d learned to make béchamel, hollandaise, velouté, espagnole and sauce tomat.
Those lessons had served her well when she’d started training and she’d been grateful, but what her grandmother had really given her was a love of cooking.
And although Anna was right that reading cookery books was usually a stress buster for her, she hadn’t picked one up for six months.
Now, for the first time, she wanted to. Maybe that was progress.
“Cookery books fascinate me. They tell you so much about local culture. These are local Vermont cookery books. I know we’re not staying,” she said quickly, “but I’d still like to read these.”
“And the cookie cutters?”
“I collect cookie cutters like a writer collects notebooks. I thought they were cute, but I don’t suppose I’ll ever use them.”
Erica glanced at Anna. “Want to bet that she uses them before the end of the holidays?”
Anna shook her head. “I never bet on a certainty.”
They paid for their purchases and headed back to the car. It was dark and the street sparkled with Christmas lights.
“Everyone is having fun,” Claudia said as they picked their way through the snow to the car. “Do you think they’re this happy in January or is it part of the Christmas festivities? Maybe you’re only allowed to take part if you smile.”
They arrived back at the inn to find Hattie checking in a young couple who were keen for information on local ski trails.
Erica kept her eyes straight ahead and headed to the stairs.
“Shall we meet in two hours for drinks before dinner?” Anna followed her into the room and she and Claudia collected their luggage. “That should give us time for a relaxing bath and some personal time.”
Personal time for Anna would mean calling Pete. Claudia imagined her snuggled on the bed in her dressing gown, face pink from the bath, telling Pete everything that had happened because she and Pete always discussed everything.
Claudia felt a twinge of envy.
No matter what happened, Anna always had Pete.
What did Claudia have? She needed to fix her life, but in the meantime, she was going to make the most of her one and only evening in the Maple Sugar Inn. A relaxing bath sounded like a good idea, so she would do the same and then curl up in front of the fire with her cookery books and indulge in a comfort binge read.
TWELVE
Hattie
Hattie stood outside the door for a full minute before she finally knocked.
This was possibly a big mistake, but there was only one way to find out.
There was a pause and then the door opened.
Erica stood there. She was wearing a red wool dress and a pair of boots that made Hattie want to cry with envy—it was good to know they had at least one thing in common! Her dark hair fell to her shoulders in a smooth, well-cut bob and her lips were a bold shade of red.
The smile on those lips vanished when she saw Hattie. She’d obviously been expecting one of her friends.
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Hattie had a whole speech planned but the whole thing flew from her brain.
“I came to check you’re happy with your rooms.” It was a pathetic opening, but at least she didn’t stammer. “If there’s anything you need—”
“There’s nothing. And the rooms are great.” Erica was civil, but distant. “Thank you.” She kept her hand on the door as if she couldn’t wait to close it. She was waiting for Hattie to walk away, but Hattie knew that if she walked away she was going to regret it always.
She stood awkwardly, feeling out of her depth. She’d expected Erica to say something, but it seemed she wasn’t going to. What did that mean? Why was she even here if she didn’t intend to have a conversation? Perhaps she’d just been waiting for the right moment. Perhaps she had a speech all planned and Hattie had ruined everything by knocking on her door.
“I didn’t really come to check you’re happy with the rooms, although of course I’m pleased that you are—” This time Hattie did stumble over the words. “There is no easy way to say this so I’m just going to say it and I hope I’m not out of line.”
Erica’s hand tightened on the door. Her knuckles were white.
Hattie looked her in the eye. “You’re Madeleine, aren’t you?”
Erica’s lips parted. “Erica,” she croaked. “My name is Erica.”
“Yes. That was what confused me. It’s the reason it took me a little while to figure it out.” She felt slightly giddy. This was her sister. Her sister. She’d gone from having no family to having a sister. This must be how it felt to win the lottery. “It doesn’t matter what you’re called. I’m just happy you’re here now. For years I hoped this moment might come, but it never did and lately—” she broke off, choked by emotion “—lately life has been very tough and—well, I didn’t expect a gift like this.”
Erica was still holding tightly to the door, as if it was the only thing keeping her upright. “A gift?”
“You coming to find me after all these years. You did come to find me, didn’t you? It can’t be coincidence. The moment I saw you looking at the photo of our dad—”
“Stop.” Erica’s face was white. “Please, stop.”