Chapter One

Abby Marshall dreaded the dinner she was on her way to. Never before had she been grateful to be stuck in Boston rush hour traffic but whatever stalled her from meeting up with her parents and her boyfriend for dinner was fine with her. She should be at home writing her next book instead of appeasing her parents with this whimsical Monday night dinner. She was surprised they had both coordinated their schedules to even get together with her. That usually required months of advanced planning. The surprise invitation just meant her parents were up to something. What that was, Abby hadn’t a clue. But something just didn’t feel right about tonight, the way her mother called to ask her to a last-minute dinner. The Marshalls never did anything without a plan or purpose. And never last minute.

Abby’s car service driver sat patiently behind the wheel waiting for the traffic on Boston’s narrow streets to move. She gave him credit. She’d never have the patience to drive in this nightmare. Living in Boston, she relied on trains and buses to get around, even if they weren’t all that dependable. At least they got her to and from without having to sit in bumper to bumper traffic like now. The clock on her cell phone showed she was already late. She could get out here and walk the five blocks to the restaurant but being late by one minute or twenty would still earn her a lecture from her parents. Might as well stay warm and not hike the city sidewalks in three-inch heels if it wasn’t going to do her any good.

“Sorry for the delay, ma’am,” the driver said as if reading her mind. “We’re almost there.” The ride to the five-star restaurant in the heart of Boston took longer than the expected thirty minutes she had planned. Thinking she’d given herself plenty of time proved false as the evening traffic glowed with brake lights.

“I appreciate it,” she responded. No rush really.

Abby sent a quick text to her mother saying she was on her way. It was useless to do since her mother rarely looked at her phone when in a meeting or at a function and never during dinner. But she had to at least try to alert them to her tardy arrival.

Buildings along the downtown streets were beginning to decorate for Christmas. Twinkling lights hung in windows and on lampposts. Green wreaths with colorful decorations adorned some doors. Even the air outside warned of the approaching holiday season with the cold air settling in for winter. Boston had yet to see any snow, but it was still early in the season. It was only the beginning of December but the air could certainly pull off snow tonight with its chill.

Throngs of people scurried about the sidewalks, cutting across traffic to get to the other side. People in a rush to get home from work or, like her, make reservations. Everyone was bundled in winter coats and scarfs. Bicyclists weaved in and out of traffic, bundled in layers of clothing against the elements. Musicians played on corners offering boxes at their feet to collect donations. Smoke billowed from restaurant roof vents, rising up into the night sky. Horns blared incessantly as red lights changed with no movement in traffic. Abby settled in the backseat, patiently waiting as the time ticked by.

As promised, they finally arrived at the restaurant in downtown Boston. Stepping from the car, her heels clacked on the sidewalk. How she wished she had worn her nice warm boots instead but the heels would prevent a lecture from her mother about the proper shoes for a skirt. Abby had spent painful hours carefully assembling her wardrobe for tonight in the hopes she’d please her mother and not receive unsolicited advice on how to dress as a twenty-six-year-old. The black knee length skirt and silver silk blouse had been gifts from her mother last year. What better time to wear them than now since it would be odd for her mother to criticize her own gifts.

Rushing into the restaurant, Abby gave her name to the hostess and brushed at her skirt to ensure she wasn’t wrinkly.

“Right this way,” the slender woman said. “Your party is waiting.”

Hopefully not too long, she thought with slight embarrassment for being late as usual. Her parents cherished promptness, something Abby never quite learned to achieve. Always fashionably late, Abby offered reasonable and honest excuses but none were ever acceptable to her parents.

The hostess showed Abby to the center of the room where her parents sat having cocktails with Ben, her boyfriend.

“Hi, Mom and Dad. Sorry I’m late. Traffic was a nightmare. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.” She leaned over, giving each a peck on the cheek before moving to the chair Ben held out for her. “Thank you, Ben.” She pecked his cheek too since he looked like he expected it. Removing her coat, she passed it to Ben and sat. Ben hung her coat on a rack on the side of the room and returned to the table.

Impeccably dressed in an Italian suit and tie, Ben looked like a mini version of her father. Style was extremely important to her parents and they always looked professional. Her mother wore a tailored navy blue pantsuit with a simple strand of pearls which Abby recognized as her great-grandmother’s. With her dyed dark blond hair in an elegant twist and makeup light but noticeable, her mother looked much younger than she was. An air of dignity swirled around her.

“I’m so glad you were finally able to join us, Abby,” her mother began. “We were beginning to get worried.”

“I’m sorry. I sent you a text to give you a heads up that I was running late.”

Her mother stared at her. “A head’s up? Really, your language. You speak as if you didn’t go to the finest schools,” she said with that all too familiar disappointed tone. “And you know I don’t have my phone out when with company. That’s plain rude.” The woman always sported the best manners with the coldest demeanor.

 “Just couldn’t get through the traffic,” Abby said softly, knowing it was a lost cause to justify her tardiness.

Her father frowned, looking at her with cool brown eyes. “Lived in Boston your whole life. Seems you should know how to deal with traffic and plan accordingly. We arrived on time.” His grey suit jacket was unbuttoned but his tie was perfectly straight and his dress shirt wrinkle free, even at the end of the work day. Abby didn’t need to look to know her father would be wearing expensive Italian leather shoes with dress socks the perfect match to his suit.

Abby gritted her teeth. Was this how the entire night would be? Getting lectured and scolded by her overbearing parents?

“Well, enough of that, Randolph,” her mother injected, her words calming from the ridicule of a moment ago. “We’re all here now so let’s have a fabulous dinner. Ben was good enough to suggest we get together tonight,” she continued with an unusual excitement in her tone.

“No problem at all, Mrs. Marshall. You know how much I enjoy your company,” Ben said, reaching to pat Abby’s hand and flash her a wide smile of unnaturally white teeth.

As much as Abby had tried to see a future with Ben, she just couldn’t. It had been six months since her and Ben had started dating after being introduced by none other than her parents. They made no secret of their desire to have their only daughter wed into a desirable, socially connected family and they did everything in their power to make it happen. Ben was sweet enough and intelligent, having graduated top of his Harvard Law School class. On track to becoming an assistant district attorney, Ben was the exact partner her parents wanted for her. He was handsome with his five eleven frame trim and toned. Always groomed perfectly with short brown hair and clean shaven, light on the cologne, heavy on the style, Ben would make any woman a great husband. Just not Abby.

She didn’t know what she wanted, but it wasn’t Ben. Her career was all that mattered to her right now and that was unravelling thanks to a writer’s block that had haunted her these past months. It didn’t make sense. She never had a problem writing before. Writing was her escape, her passion.

Abby ordered a merlot when the waitress returned to take their dinner orders. This was too awkward sitting here with the man she had planned to break up with and her parents who would be devastated once she did. Her best friend, Suzy, was right. Better to get it over with before the holidays got into full swing. And she would’ve done it this week had this impromptu dinner not been called. It was completely unlike her parents to accept a last-minute invitation but when her mother called and insisted they meet for dinner tonight, Abby knew something was up. She just couldn’t put her finger on it yet, but there was something different about her parents tonight, the way they both wore smiles and talked light conversation instead of politically charged debates.

When their dinner was served, the conversation turned to include Abby. “Your father’s law firm has chosen a date for their annual holiday party,” her mother said. “You and Ben, of course, will be on the invite list. We’ll go gown shopping.”

Just like that, her mother planned her life. Never asked if she could make an event, just assumed she would because that’s what her parents expected. “I will look at my calendar, Mother, and let you know if I can make it.”

A confused expression covered her mother’s porcelain face. “What do you mean if? Of course, you’ll make it. And my firm’s party as well, although we have yet to choose a date, but I should know by next week.” With both mother and father as lawyers, Abby never won arguments.

“If I’m available then I’ll come,” Abby said trying to push back against her mother’s insistence.

Her mother leaned toward her, whispering as if the men couldn’t hear. “Why must you be so difficult?”

“Not being difficult, Mother. It would just be nice to be asked and not told to do something. I’m an adult. You need to respect that,” Abby said, pushing her plate away unable to eat another bite in this company.

“Joyce, let it be for now,” her father said in a hushed tone before turning to Ben and Abby. “Let’s just enjoy our dinner. We can discuss the holiday party plans another time. Tonight, we’re here for a pleasant evening.”

Ben and her father exchanged glances causing Abby to take notice and wonder what that was all about. But she really didn’t care. She just wanted the dinner to be over so they could leave and the hostile conversations end.

They finished the rest of their meals in silence. Once the wait staff cleared their dishes and poured them coffee, the mood lightened, but Abby still glanced at her phone praying for the time to hurry up and pass.

“Abby, there’s a special reason I wanted to have dinner with you and your parents tonight,” Ben began, looking from her to her parents and back to her. “I apologize to all for the last-minute notice, but I was waiting on something to make tonight special and it finally arrived today.”

Uh oh. She didn’t like the sound of his voice, the dreamy look in his eyes, the complete attention of her parents, as if they knew something she didn’t.

“No apology necessary, Ben. We completely understand,” her father said, a little too kind and completely out of his nature.

Abby needed privacy. “Ben, maybe we should go talk alone. There’s something I need to tell you,” Abby said, trying to escape the table, not wanting to discuss her relationship in front of her parents.

“And there’s something I need to tell you, Abby,” Ben continued like his words were more important. “I know we’ve only been dating six months, but it’s been an incredible six months.”

“It has?” she asked, wondering how he thought that. They rarely did anything fun. It was always political parties or fundraisers. Anything to network. Their dates never truly felt romantic or even like a date.

“Yes, my darling, it has. And that’s why I know we are meant to be together.” He pulled a ring box from his jacket and her stomach lurched.

Oh no. “Stop, Ben,” Abby said, her hand on his arm to prevent him from kneeling or opening the box. “Don’t do this.”

Her mother gasped.

Ben looked flustered, redness covering his neck. “Abby, I’m trying to propose.”

So he thought he needed to mansplain to her what his intentions were at this moment? That proved he was not the one for her.

“I don’t want you to propose, Ben,” she said, refusing to glance in her parents’ direction knowing both would be frowning with mortification. “We’ve never talked marriage. We’ve never talked anything serious.”

“I am ready to marry you, Abby.”

Her head was spinning. How did she not figure his plan out with the way her parents were acting, coming to a last-minute dinner and making googly eyes with Ben? “No. I won’t marry you, Ben.” Abby sighed, shaking her head. “You should have discussed this with me in private.”

“He spoke to your mother and me. Was the perfect gentleman and asked for my daughter’s hand the proper way,” her father said quite upset, his deep voice enveloping the table.

Abby squared her shoulders. “He needed to speak to me.”

Ben quietly put the box back in his jacket pocket. “I guess I had us all wrong.”

“Ben, it’s only been six months.” She looked around at the other couples enjoying a cozy dinner by candlelight. What a contrast to what was happening at her table. “I am not looking to get married any time soon. In fact, I was planning to break up with you.”

Ben flinched. “Wow, that’s unexpected.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to hurt you, Ben. But I’m not the woman for you. She’s out there, but she’s not me.”

Ben stood. “Mr. and Mrs. Marshall, if you’ll excuse me.” He left Abby to face her parents’ disappointment which they made no attempt to hide.

“This has got to be the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever done, Abby. You’re throwing your life away,” her mother complained, shock covering her face.

“I am not. I have a successful career that requires my attention.”

Her mother snapped. “Oh, come on, Abby. You write romance novels. You don’t have a career.”

Rolling her eyes, Abby took a deep breath. “I’m not going to argue with you on the merits of my career, Mother. You can’t stand that I won’t consider entering the corporate world as you’ve suggested so many times. I love what I do. I am a successful, award-winning author.”

“Of romance novels,” her father reiterated.

Her face flushed with hurt on how they’d never respect her ambitions. “Yes, that’s correct. With a very promising future.”

“Ben was offering you a promising future,” her father said, motioning for the check.

“That’s just it,” Abby said standing. “I don’t need anyone to offer me a future. I can make a future on my own, how I want to live.”

“I just don’t understand you, Abby,” her mother said in that stern business tone she’d heard her whole life. “First, you throw away an Ivy League education to write fantasy. Then you reject a perfect gentleman who would make a great husband. I don’t know where your father and I went wrong with you.”

They quickly got their coats and exited the restaurant. Her father handed the valet his ticket.

Her mother turned to her while putting on her leather gloves. “I hope you realize, after the stunt you pulled tonight, that Ben is gone for good. You’ve embarrassed him and us. Your behavior is an abomination.”

“I could say the same,” Abby said, feeling hurt and bullied all at once. Her parents were exhausting. “Ben should have spoken to me first not blindsided me. I have a right to have a say in my life.”

The valet pulled up with their car. Her father slipped cash into the young man’s hand, kissed Abby’s cheek with no emotion and held the door for his wife. “Get home safely,” he ordered before walking to the driver’s door and slipping inside.

Abby watched them drive away, feeling emotionally drained but free. She had no regrets about her decisions this evening and wouldn’t allow her mother and father to brow beat her into a marriage she didn’t want.

Standing on the sidewalk, the cold wind biting her legs in that skirt, Abby flagged taxicabs until one finally stopped.

The ride home was lonely, disappointing, but gave her time to think. The night had turned into a disaster. Her and Ben just weren’t compatible. She did the right thing by stopping his proposal. And her parents had no right to act like her career was inferior and meaningless because it didn’t live up to their warped standards. She had loyal readers. Her readers enjoyed her books. The four-star reviews said so. The fan mail said so. The tweets and social media posts said so. Her followers said so. And her readers appreciated a good love story with a happy ending, something she delivered in all of her books.

There may never be a happy ending for Abby, she thought, stepping out of the cab and walking into her apartment. Once she had changed out of her clothes and into her comfy sweatpants and T-shirt, she picked up her cell to call Suzy to give an update on the disastrous night. Even Suzy, with her keen instincts, couldn’t have predicted how tonight would go.

“Oh, my God, are you kidding me?” Suzy screamed causing Abby to hold the phone away from her ear until her friend’s voice returned to normal tone.

“Not kidding.”

“What did the ring look like?”

She didn’t even want to know. “I don’t know. I never let him open the box.”

“Wow. Stopping a proposal,” she said with an air of girl power and pride. “I think you did the right thing. We already discussed this, honey. He wasn’t your soulmate.”

Abby chuckled. “Soulmate. Do they even exist?”

“Of course they do,” Suzy said with her usual enthusiasm for romance.

“The romance writer in me believes so, but the woman in me is pretty doubtful right now,” Abby said, staring at her laptop sitting across the room on her kitchen table. “No wonder why I can’t write romance. How can I when romance eludes me?”

“Oh, sweetie. We’ll fix that. We’ll have a girl’s night out. Find a nice man for you.”

Abby laughed at Suzy always looking on the brighter side. “I think I’m done with men for now, Suzy. But I do have a deadline looming for this next book that I haven’t even started.” She sighed before continuing. “It’s time I tackled my writer’s block.”

“I agree. How do you plan to do that?”

Abby thought for a moment. “I haven’t taken a vacation in a long time. Tomorrow I’m going to find a place to rent for December and go into seclusion to hammer out this book.” 

Suzy gasped. “What? You mean I won’t see you for an entire month? At Christmas time?”

“We’ll figure something out for Christmas. But, Suzy, I need to get away. I need a fresh place to write. If I miss this deadline my career is toast and that’ll prove my parents’ point that I don’t have a serious career.”

“I understand. Anything I can do, Abby, you know I will.”

“I know. I will keep you updated. Talk to you tomorrow,” she said before disconnecting.

Sitting at her desk, she opened her laptop. Getting out of Boston for the month would be exciting. She’d go north where she could be snowed in to write. She needed cozy and quiet.

****

After a restless sleep and her second cup of coffee, Abby spent the morning hours searching for a short-term rental in New Hampshire. She wanted to cry. Every bed and breakfast or lodge in New Hampshire and Maine were already filled up for the holiday season. Her plans to retreat north to work were quickly falling apart.

In desperation, she emailed a few lodges to inquire about waiting lists. To her disappointment, replies came fast confirming the lodges were fully booked for the month with no vacancies and no waiting lists.

She’d just have to expand her search to Vermont which would be further away but her options were limited. Surely, she’d find something.

Just as she was closing her laptop to take a break, her email chimed indicating a new message. Probably spam. But she looked anyways and her heart stopped.

“Snowfall Lodge in Magnolia, New Hampshire just had a cancellation. We will hold room for one hour. If you’re still interested, call us immediately. Dylan Butler, Owner.” 

Abby clapped her hands, grabbed her cell and dialed. “Yes, this is Abby Marshall for Dylan Butler. I’m calling about the vacancy he just emailed me about.”

“This is Dylan and that certainly shattered records for the fastest response. I just hit send,” the man with a friendly voice said on the other end.

“You don’t understand how important this is. I’ll take the room for as long as it’s available this month.”

“It can be yours until December thirty-first, Ms. Marshall,” the man said.

“Okay, great.” She quickly read her credit card number. Jotting down her confirmation number, she breathed a sigh of relief. “I can’t thank you enough, Mr. Butler.”

“Dylan. And you’re very welcome. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hung up her cell and texted Suzy immediately. 

“Found a room in Magnolia, NH. Leave tomorrow. I’ll keep you updated on my progress. Hugs!” After adding some happy emojis, she hit send.

It was December second. That gave her about three and a half weeks to work on her novel with no interruptions. No distractions.

Her laptop chimed again and her email held her confirmation receipt. Fast service. She liked that.

She now had her reservation. She may be newly single, but she was going to find her inner romance and get this book written. Writing wasn’t only her career. It was her life.

Coming Soon!