him. “Talking of mature and rational, I spoke to someone about selling the cottage last week. I was thinking we should put it on the market after Christmas, but their advice was to wait until spring. That would give us time to do some of the repairs, and make sure it’s looking its best. The garden is always gorgeous in May.” It should be. She’d spent hours on it. It was something that was all hers. Somewhere she felt calm. Whenever she was stressed, she went outdoors and tended the garden. The upside of her anxiety was that her garden looked fantastic.
Nick spooned sugar into his coffee and gave her a long look. “You’re sure you want to sell the place?”
No, she didn’t want to sell it. Selling it would break her heart. “It’s too big for one person. I’m rattling around here. And not only me. The windows rattle. There’s so much maintenance needed in an old place like this.”
“Remember the first time we saw it? You said this is it. This is the one. We hadn’t even taken a look inside.”
“I knew. I knew right away.” She glanced around the kitchen that had been the set for so many family dramas. “You thought a new build would be less work.”
“It would have been less work, but also would have lacked character.”
“I’m starting to think ‘character’ is a euphemism for ‘old and in need of repair.’ So you’re happy for me to put it on the market whenever they feel the time is right?”
His gaze was veiled. “Whatever works for you.”
They were so polite. Civilized. There was no awkwardness or animosity. They were simply two friends who had lost the chemistry. She stared hard at his jaw, at the curve between his neck and shoulder where she’d so often rested her head. When he’d come back from a long trip it had been like those early days of their relationship, the passion between them intense and all-consuming.
Where had those feelings gone?
She stood up suddenly, her chair scraping on the stone floor. “That’s what I’ll do, then. It’s been a lovely home for us, but it’s time to move on.” Time for her to move on, too. This place was so full of memories they almost suffocated her.
“On to practical matters—” he finished his coffee “—I’ll book a cab to the airport. All you need to do is pack a suitcase. This could be fun, Mags.”
“The flight?”
“Christmas in Colorado.”
Maybe she wasn’t very adventurous, because all she really wanted was Christmas at home. She’d wanted one more year of lighting a fire in the hearth and decorating a large tree.
Next year she’d be living in a small apartment, or maybe a small Victorian terrace. Would Nick even join them, or would he have the girls on a different day? Whichever way it turned out, she knew that no Christmas gathering would ever be the same again.
“You should look at the website. Aspen looks beautiful. It’s surrounded by forest and snowy mountains. When did we last have a proper white Christmas?”
Maggie thought about the Christmas cards half-written in her bedroom. “Snow might be nice.”
“And for the first time ever you might be able to relax and enjoy yourself. You won’t have to do the cooking.”
Maggie loved cooking. She loved slicing and dicing, stirring and tasting. She loved the craziness and the chaos of the kitchen at Christmas. The sound of the fridge door opening and closing. The smell of toast as someone made a late-night snack.
It was the empty silence she hated most.
The knowledge that no one in the world really needed her anymore.
The girls loved her, she knew that, but they didn’t need her. They were adults now, with their own lives.
Did she even have a purpose?
She still worked for the same publisher and she knew she was valued, so why didn’t she get more satisfaction from her job?
Gloom descended on her and suddenly she wished Nick would leave. His life hadn’t changed much. His days were still filled with work, lectures, students, research. The only thing that had altered for him was where he slept at night.
She became brisk and practical, as she always did when she was stressed. “We’re agreed we’ll delay telling them until after Christmas?”
“Yes, but I’m not much of an actor. What if they guess?”
“Then it’s up to us to make sure they don’t. We were married for more than three decades. I think we can manage to get through ten days.”