The Cottage on Juniper Ridge

She set her artichoke dip and crackers on the dining room table next to the plate of brownies and the punch bowl full of eggnog, then stepped back to admire her handiwork. The table looked lovely if she did say so herself. Her centerpiece was simple—an elegant Fitz and Floyd pitcher shaped like Saint Nicholas and filled with red carnations she’d purchased at Lupine Floral and surrounded with holly taken from the bush in their backyard. Very festive, she thought with a smile. Every woman should own something by Fitz and Floyd.

The doorbell rang and she hurried to welcome the first arrival. There on the porch stood Cass Wilkes, bearing her signature contribution, a plate of gingerbread boys and girls. She and Stacy were close in age and, as with Stacy, Father Time and Mother Nature were conspiring to put extra pounds on Cass’s hips. Of course, owning a bakery probably contributed to the problem.

“You seem tired,” Stacy observed, stepping aside to let her in.

“Tired doesn’t begin to describe it,” Cass said, handing over the plate. “Every year I say I’m not going to be so busy, but every year I get busier. I’m up to my ears in orders for gingerbread houses. Both Amber and Willie want to have Christmas parties, which they expect me to bake for.” She shook her head. “I’ve got to get those two more at home in the kitchen. Dani was always my right-hand woman and I’m afraid I let it slide with the other two.”

Cass’s oldest daughter, Dani, had worked in the bakery with her for years. But when Dani married she’d moved away. It looked as if Cass was still trying to pick up the slack, both at work and at home. A business to run, two teenagers and a dog—no wonder she was tired.

“Speaking of Dani, how’s she doing?” Stacy asked.

Cass’s face lit up. “Great. She loves culinary school. And she and Mike are coming home for Christmas.” Cass sighed. “I hope I can manage to get my Christmas shopping done before they get here.”

“At least you don’t have a wedding to plan this year.”

“No, but my ex and his family had such a good time last year they’re all coming up for Christmas again.”

“Tell me they’re not staying with you.” Cass had wound up turning her house into a B and B for her ex-husband and his new wife when they came to town for her daughter’s wedding. Somehow, before she knew it, all her former in-laws had descended on her. They wound up having so much fun, they’d decided to stay on and celebrate the holiday at her place. Apparently they were making that a tradition now. Poor Cass.

“No,” Cass said. “This year I was smart enough to book ahead. They’re all staying at Icicle Creek Lodge. But the whole mob’s going to be at my place for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.”

She was still talking when Charlene Albach (Charley to her friends) arrived. Tall and slender in her stylish jeans and boots, her red wool coat and black beret, she could’ve been in a shoot for a winter edition of some magazine.

“Hey, gang,” she said, and gave Stacy a bottle of wine. She studied Cass a moment. “You look more tired every time I see you.”

“Nothing a week in the Caribbean wouldn’t fix,” Cass joked. “You look great as always. Love must agree with you.”

Stacy hoped so. She hadn’t known Charley before Juliet Gerard started the book club. She did know that Charley had endured a rough couple of years. Her skunk of a husband had left her for another woman, then returned last Christmas, asking her to try again. Stacy wasn’t sure what had happened. All she knew was that things hadn’t worked out, and he beat feet back to Seattle. On top of that her restaurant had burned down and she’d had to rebuild. But now the restaurant was better than ever. So was Charley’s love life.

Juliet came in right behind Charley.

“Speaking of tired,” Cass said to Juliet as the women moved into the living room. “You look like you could use a month’s sleep.”

Hardly surprising considering that Juliet had an eleven-month-old and was working part-time at Mountain Escape Books.

“Jon has a cold. We were up half the night.” Juliet walked into the living room and fell onto the couch. “Somebody should have warned me how much work babies are.”

Stacy and Cass exchanged smiles, two maternal warriors who had survived the early years. “I’d like to say it gets easier,” Cass said, “but my mama told me never to lie.”

“Where’s everyone else?” Juliet asked, glancing around.

“Cecily’s sick,” Stacy said. “And Chita called a few minutes ago to say she’s running late.”

“What about Dot?”

Dot was the senior member of the group. She was a chain-smoker with a smart mouth and everyone loved her. The fact that they forced themselves to eat the smoke-infested cookies she brought to their monthly meetings was proof of it.

“Dot’s dropping out.”

“Dropping out?” Cass echoed. “First Chelsea and now Dot.”

Juliet let out a sigh. “I can see why Chelsea gave up. She’s exhausted. And...” She paused, building anticipation.

Chelsea had been in the book club since the beginning and the members had been there for support when her clueless husband was driving her nuts. He’d finally figured out how to be both a good husband and a good father. So, with him helping so much at home, there could only be one reason Chelsea was too tired for book club.

“She’s pregnant,” Stacy guessed.

Juliet confirmed it.

“With two kids under the age of three, I don’t blame her,” Cass said. “But what’s Dot’s excuse?”

“She said she’s got too much on her plate.”

Cass rolled her eyes. “Oh, brother. What’s that got to do with anything?”

Dot was an inspiration to them all. In her sixties, she could run circles around almost everyone in the group. She owned Breakfast Haus, the town’s favorite breakfast restaurant, and was a member of the Chamber of Commerce. In addition to that, she led an active social life.

“I think it has more to do with the books we read,” Juliet said. “They’re not racy enough for her.”

Cass shook her head. “That’s our Dot. She probably wore her last husband out.”

“She’s had more than one?” asked Charley, who was still a relative newcomer to Icicle Falls.

“The first one...well, no one knows exactly what happened to him,” Cass replied.

Over the years Stacy had heard rumors but they’d seemed too fantastical to believe. Even though Dot was a tough old girl, it was hard to picture her bumping off her first husband.

“When I was a kid I remember Hildy Johnson telling my mom that she did him in,” Juliet said. “Hildy said she shot him but got off because it was self-defense.”

“I heard she poisoned him,” Cass said.

“Now, why didn’t I think of doing that?” Charley joked.

“Good thing you didn’t. You’d have been in jail instead of divorced and then you wouldn’t have met Mr. Wonderful,” Cass told her.

Dan Masters, who owned Masters Construction, had been the man in charge of rebuilding Charley’s restaurant after it burned down, but in the past year he’d been a major factor in the rebuilding of her life, as well. These days he hung out at the restaurant every night, and they were often seen at a corner table, sharing a piece of wild huckleberry pie. Most nights, after the restaurant was closed, his truck could be found parked in front of her house.

“True.” Charley casually pulled a black leather glove off her left hand and wiggled her fingers. A fat diamond winked.

“Whoa, check this out,” Cass said, moving to the couch where Charley had settled in order to get a better look. “That’s some sparkler.” She hugged Charley. “You deserve every karat. But, you little stinker, why didn’t you call me the minute it happened?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t be awake at midnight last night.”

“I’m so happy for you,” Cass said. “When’s the wedding?”

“We’re thinking Valentine’s Day.”

“Wow, that doesn’t give you much time,” Stacy said.

“Tell me about it. But, hey, if Cass can throw together a great wedding in record time so can we.”

“I wouldn’t wish that madness on anyone,” Cass said. “I almost had a nervous breakdown.”

“We’re just going to have a small, simple wedding.”

Cass snorted. “That’s what Dani said.”

The doorbell rang and Stacy opened it to let in Chita Arness, their newest member. Chita was a thirtysomething single mom who looked like Jennifer Lopez. Why she hadn’t remarried was a mystery to Stacy. Chita claimed that between work and her two children she didn’t have time to date but Stacy wasn’t buying it. A woman could always find time for love.

“Sorry I’m late.” Chita handed over a plate with a cake on it that made Stacy’s mouth water. “My tres leches cake,” she said.

Brownies, gingerbread and cake—Stacy’s hips were going to explode. But she’d die with a smile on her face.

In addition to the cake, Chita brought two books—the Robyn Carr holiday tale they were discussing and what was probably her suggestion for their January selection, since it was her turn to choose.

She apologized again to the others as she entered the living room. “I had to pick up Hidalgo from the vet’s. And then, after dinner, Anna needed help with her math.”

Juliet shuddered. “Math. Eeew. When Jon reaches the point where he needs help I’m having him call his uncle Jonathan.”

“I wish we had an uncle to call,” Chita said, and sank into Stacy’s new armchair (Thanksgiving sale, forty percent off). She heaved a giant sigh. “I’m so tired. And I still have so much to do before Christmas. Enrico and his friends got into the cookies I just made and ate almost all of them. Now I have to bake some more before my sister’s cookie exchange on Saturday. Which I don’t want to go to.”

“Why?” Juliet asked.

“Because I don’t have time to party,” Chita replied. She ran a hand through her long, dark hair. “All I want to do this weekend is crawl into bed and stay there.”

“Bed and a good book,” Juliet said with a sigh.

“I wouldn’t be able to stay awake to read,” Chita said. “Even though I loved this month’s book. By the way, what gossip did I miss?”

“Oh, not much,” Charley said, waving her left hand around.

“Look at you!” Chita exclaimed. She grabbed Charley’s hand. “Oooh, that is some diamond.”

“He’s some man.” Charley smiled and proceeded to fill Chita in on the wedding details.

“Ah, I love weddings,” Chita said dreamily.

“Maybe there’s one in your future,” Stacy suggested.

“No time for a wedding. No time for a man,” Chita said firmly.

“You really need to rethink your priorities,” Charley teased as the women moved to the dining room table.

“Oooh, your homemade brownies,” Cass said. “These are the best.”

Stacy smiled, dismissing the compliment. She was no professional like Cass and she knew Cass was just being nice. Still, she was gratified by the praise. She liked to bake.

She also liked to entertain. She’d been happy to take over hosting the book club after Juliet had her baby. With the kids gone, the house seemed so empty. Homes should be filled with people and laughter.

And life should be filled with meaning and purpose. Stacy had to admit that when their daughter, the baby of the family, moved to Seattle to attend the University of Washington in the fall, she’d lost her sense of purpose. Empty-nest syndrome—she never thought she’d experience it. She’d always kept busy with her home, her quilting and her volunteer activities.

She still had the volunteer work. She was on the Friends of the Library committee and was in charge of the monthly book sales. Between that and her quilting and church activities, she had enough to do. And yet she didn’t.

“This is a new chapter in your life,” Dean kept saying. “Now’s your chance to finally get out and explore your options.” He was right, of course, but she still found herself in a quagmire of indecision. Should she go back to school and finally finish her degree? After twenty years? Maybe not. She’d been more into boys and parties than studying when she was in college. She wasn’t sure she was college material.

She could get a job doing...something. Everyone worked these days. She’d worked in retail when she and Dean were first married and had enjoyed it, but now that she was older, going to work for someone didn’t sound all that appealing. The idea of starting her own business intrigued her but she had no idea what kind of business to start. What skills did she have other than baking and finding bargains on sale? And quilting. She supposed she could sell her quilts.

Except who would buy them? Most of the people she knew already had one of her quilts. Anyway, there were many women out there who turned out better work than she did. Her cousin Helen Ross could quilt circles around her.

“Everything looks so great,” Juliet said. “With all these pretty things, your house should be in a magazine,” she told Stacy.

Ha! Take that, Deano. “Tell that to my husband,” Stacy said.

“He doesn’t like your decorations?” Charley asked.

“He thinks we have too much stuff. But I don’t think I have too much,” Stacy added quickly before anyone could agree with Dean.

“I love looking at all of this,” Cass said, “but I wouldn’t want to be in your shoes putting it away in January.” She returned to the living room, sat down on the couch and searched in vain for a place to fit her cup of eggnog among the host of ceramic animals and people visiting the Holy Family. She ended up holding it and Stacy found herself wondering if she should’ve set out fewer camels.

“Sometimes our things can own us,” Chita said, making Stacy frown.

“That’s true. And pretty darned profound,” Cass told her.

If you asked Stacy, it sounded like something you’d hear on Dr. Phil.

“I didn’t think it up,” Chita said. “I read it.” She put her cup on the carpet, and then, balancing her plate on her lap, reached for the book she’d brought in. “I’d like us to read this for the new year.”

She passed it to Cass, who held it at arm’s length and squinted at the title. “Simplicity?”

“It’s not a novel,” Chita said.

“Oh.” Cass was obviously disappointed and handed it to Juliet.

“We just got this in at the bookstore,” Juliet explained. “It’s Muriel Sterling’s new book.”

“I love her books,” Charley said.

“This one is all about simplifying your life,” Chita told them. “She talks about discovering what’s important and learning to shed what isn’t.”

Was this some kind of decluttering, purge-your-closets book? Stacy felt herself squirming.

“You mean having fewer things?” Juliet asked.

“Having less, period. Less stuff to deal with, less stress, less craziness in your life. I’m only halfway through it but there are some really good ideas in here.”

“Well, it’s your pick.” Stacy knew her tone of voice probably betrayed that she was less than thrilled with the selection.

“I think it’ll be worthwhile,” Chita said. “I mean, we’re always talking about how busy we are.” She shot a look at Juliet. “And how tired.”

“This will only help me if it comes with a bottle of vitamins and a live-in nanny,” Juliet quipped. “But I’d love to read it.”

“And if it’s by Muriel we know it’s going to be worth reading,” Cass added.

Chita smiled. “I think this book could change our lives.”

Change. Stacy wasn’t fond of it...unless it was good and it was happening to her. And she wasn’t sure there was going to be anything all that good for her in this particular book.

“I think it’s a great pick for the new year,” Juliet said.

“Sounds great to me,” Charley said.

“Me, too,” said Cass.

“Me, too,” said Chita.

“Anyone want more eggnog?” Stacy asked.

Chapter Three

Life should be a joy, not a burden.

—Muriel Sterling, author of Simplicity

Jen was rushing down the street, late for lunch with her sister, when her cell phone rang. It was her friend Ariel.

“Hey, a bunch of us are going to try that new restaurant in Belltown Friday night. Want to come?”

A night out with the girls would have been a welcome change but... “I can’t. I have—”

“A candle party,” Ariel finished with her. “All you do is work. Nobody sees you anymore.”

“I know.” Boy, did she.

“I’m not sure why I bothered to call,” Ariel complained.

She was one of the few who did keep in touch. Most of Jen’s other so-called friends had given up. “I’m glad you did.”

Ariel gave a snort of disgust. “You’re in deep shit with Caroline for missing most of her bachelorette party.”

“I know, but I had—”

“A candle party. There’s more to life than work. And you’d better realize that before you don’t have any friends left.”

“Oh, that’s nice,” Jen said. “Glad to see you’re so supportive.” And understanding. Not. She couldn’t help it if she had bills to pay and a failed starter marriage to recover from. And family obligations.

“You wanna talk supportive? Who got you through your divorce?” Ariel demanded. “Who hosted your first candle party?”

Actually, her sister had. She’d been there for Jen when she was going through her divorce, too, but this wasn’t the time to point that out. Anyway, she wasn’t the total scum girlfriend Ariel was making her out to be. “Yeah? Well, who’s always been your designated driver whenever you wanted to go out dancing and get drunk?”

“Saint Jen, who I guess is now too good for her old friends.”

“I’m just busy!”

“If you’re too busy for your friends, you’re too busy,” Ariel snapped, and ended the call.

Jen stared at her phone in disbelief. What was that? Had Ariel just dumped her over the phone?

The clock on her phone screen told her she didn’t have time to stand around trying to figure it out.

Late. It seemed as if she was constantly running to something, constantly trying to catch up with her own life. But, like a dog chasing its tail, she never seemed to. She picked up her pace.

“So you finally got here,” her older sister, Toni Carlyon, greeted her as Jen approached their table at the Pink Door in Seattle’s Post Alley.

“I’m lucky I could get away at all.” Jen took in the antipasto platter sitting on the table. “Aw, you ordered my prosciutto.” She hugged Toni, then settled in her chair and snagged a slice of meat.

“Of course,” Toni said. “I always watch out for you, baby sister.”

Watching out for and bossing around were synonymous in her sister’s mind, but Jen let it slide. Bossiness was unavoidable when your sister was five years older than you. This lunch was a command performance, and Jen suspected she’d be getting a sisterly lecture along with the meal Toni had offered to buy her.

She could feel her sister’s eyes on her as she gave the waitress her order.

“You look like death on a stick,” Toni said once the waitress was gone. “Mom’s right. You are going too hard.”

Jen opened her mouth to say, “I am not.” Instead, she said, “I hate my life,” and burst into tears.

Toni set her glass of wine in front of Jen. “Drink this.”

“I have to go back to work,” Jen protested.

“Drink it, anyway.”

Jen managed to stem the tears enough to take a sip of wine.

“Jen-Jen, you’ve got to stop doing so much,” Toni scolded. “Start saying no.”

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Think like that old Nike commercial and just do it.”

Easy for Toni to say. Yes, she was busy with her husband and her children, but when it came to work she could set her own hours. Toni wrote for women’s magazines, focusing primarily on family issues. If she didn’t feel like working she could take a day off, go to the gym, maintain her size-six bod, touch up her blond highlights.

Jen had given up on highlights. She hadn’t been to the gym in months and she wouldn’t be able to take a day off until...2043. “I can’t,” she wailed. Now diners at the other tables were staring at her. She gulped down some more wine.

“You take on too much, Jen-Jen,” Toni said. “Tell your idiot supervisor to plan the rest of the office Christmas party without you.”

Right. “You would never last in corporate America,” Jen retorted.

“At the rate you’re going you’re not going to last, either,” Toni said. “You don’t have time for your friends anymore and you barely have time for your family. That’s not you.”

Toni had a point. “I don’t know what to do,” Jen confessed. “Every time I look at my calendar I want to run away from my life.”

“Have you finished the book I gave you yet?” Toni asked.

“No. I keep falling asleep.” Jen shook her head. “Pathetic. I used to love to read.” Heck, she used to love to do all kinds of things. She used to love going out with the girls on the spur of the moment or catching a movie, walking around Green Lake with a friend on a sunny day. Or...breathing. She barely had time for that these days. “Sometimes I wish I could sell the condo and move to a small town somewhere and just start over. Maybe write a book.” She’d always wanted to try her hand at writing...something. These days it seemed as if everyone was writing a book so it couldn’t be that hard.

“I’ve heard life is slower in a small town,” Toni said, “but I don’t believe it. These days everybody’s busy. But certain somebodies are busier than others. Too busy,” she added, raising an eyebrow at Jen.

“If you think I want to be running around like a roadrunner on speed you’re crazy,” Jen informed her, “but I have to. I’ve got bills to pay.” Obviously, her friends didn’t get that.

“That’s the American way,” Toni said with a frown. “I wish I could help you out but my car’s on its last legs and we found out yesterday that Jeffrey’s going to need braces. It’ll be a few months before our budget adjusts to the shock.”

“I wouldn’t dream of taking money from you, anyway. But if we had a rich uncle I’d have no qualms taking some from him.” Jen sighed. “Working two jobs is getting old. You know, sometimes I wish I’d been born in a simpler time, when people weren’t so busy.”

“You can’t go back. Sometimes I’d like to, though. I watched this old movie the other night about a family living during the Depression and I felt downright jealous.”

“Of people living in the Depression?”

“Not of the money thing. It was all that family togetherness that got to me.” Toni rolled her eyes. “Even when my family’s together, we’re not. Jeffrey’s off in his room playing games on his computer, Jordan’s always texting. Wayne’s on his laptop, doing work. I hate it. Oh, and there’s another expense. Jordan told me last night that she lost her cell phone.”

There was a fate worse than death, if you asked Jen. She couldn’t imagine being without hers. “Part of me would just as soon not replace it.”

Jen couldn’t help smiling. “Mom would agree with that.” Their mother had never been shy about expressing her opinion regarding kids and cell phones.

“Yeah, yeah. We didn’t have cell phones when we were kids and we were fine. But it’s a different world now.” Toni reclaimed her wineglass and took a sip. “I’d never admit this to Mom, but sometimes I wonder if all our technology has really made our lives better.” She fiddled with the stem of her glass. “Sometimes I worry that...” She paused and bit her lip. “My family is drifting apart.”

“Of course it’s not,” Jen said, and shied away from the image of a very bored Jordan trailing them through the gingerbread house exhibit a couple of weeks before, texting her friends at every opportunity. When Jordan was little she’d loved going out with the big girls. Now that she was thirteen, not so much. But, Jen reminded herself, she hadn’t been excited to hang out with the adults when she was that age, either.

“Oh, well,” Toni said. “That’s enough downer talk. Let’s figure out what we’re getting Mom for Christmas.”

Talking about Christmas plans should have lifted Jen’s spirits, but only served to sic her to-do list on her and make her edgy. She hurried through lunch, gave her sis a quick hug and then speed-walked back toward the Columbia Center building.