are not!” Emily said, dismayed. “How can anybody just be done with love?”
“We buried Melissa,” Casey said. “That’s enough all by itself.”
“I understand how you feel,” Andrea said softly. “After Gunter died I wanted to give up on love, too. But I’m so glad I didn’t.”
Though Casey could not say it, the death of Andrea’s husband—on their honeymoon, no less—felt like part of her disillusionment. Giving your heart was a risky business.
“No one would be more appalled than Melissa if you made fear of love her legacy!”
The Gingerbread Girls had always bowed to Emily’s leadership, and Casey conceded slightly now. “Okay. This kind of love I’m fine with. The bonds between friends. The love between a mother and a child. Romantic love I’m done with. Finis.”
“I always love it when you speak Italian,” Andrea said, deciding in the face of Casey’s intensity it was time to lighten up.
“It’s Latin,” she said. “Not Italian.”
Andrea rolled her eyes at the correction and went on as if she had not been interrupted. “You aren’t done with it. You’re hurting right now. But it has been a year, and I think you have healed more than you think you have. You are planning on having a baby, after all. Though I do wish you’d wait for the right guy to come along, and spadoodle, life as you know it, over.”
“Spadoodle?” Casey laughed in spite of herself.
“I thought it sounded Italian,” Andrea offered with an impish grin.
“Sort of,” Emily said, as if she was considering. “Like spaghetti and noodle mixed.” And then they were all laughing, like the carefree girls they had once been. It felt again like a homecoming, it was so good to be with them.
“I agree with Andrea, though. The right guy will come along and you’ll see that every single thing about your life, including the parts that seem bad, were getting you ready for that moment,” Emily said. “Should you put off having a baby until that happens? Really, I know that’s not for me to say.”
Casey felt her friend was not entirely approving and had decided to keep it light, and she was grateful for that.
“From spadoodle to deep philosophy in the blink of an eye?” Casey said, lightly. “It’s enough to make my head spin.”
Emily grinned. “Way too deep, eh, Doc?”
“Way,” Casey said with an answering smile, and it all seemed okay again. Her decision to come here had been a good one. The sisterhood between them that allowed them to squabble and exchange confidences and well-meaning advice, and then just rest in pure love and laughter again, was balm to her soul.
“I wish you’d give love a chance,” Andrea insisted.
“I have given love a chance,” Casey said firmly. “What’s that old saying? If you always do what you’ve always done, you’ll always get what you always got. Falling in love, for me, equals heartbreak. And I’m not doing it anymore.”
“You sound sure of yourself,” Emily mused.
“I am.”
“Maybe Andrea’s right. Maybe you’ve spent too much time in the lab and it has given you this illusion about what you can control. Maybe before you fully commit to the idea of having a baby on your own, you should try getting out a bit.”
“I’m getting out. I’ve joined yoga! And I’m taking a calligraphy class. My life is exceedingly full.”
She inwardly begged Andrea not to mention that desperate call a few weeks ago when she had been so unbearably down.
Andrea, blessedly, didn’t.
But Emily said, “Full does not mean fulfilling.”
“That’s why I want a family of my own. Besides, when did you become such a philosopher? Now you two quit picking on me.”
“I’m sorry,” Emily said, “I didn’t mean to pick on you. If this decision makes you happy, I’m happy for you.”
Casey just wanted to change the subject. “Andrea, tell me what I should get the adorable little Tessa for Christmas. I was thinking a nice chemistry set.”
They all laughed, and it didn’t take much of a shove to get Andrea talking about her new life and her new family. “I’ve already tucked away the giant gingerbread man Tessa fell in love with at the shop.”
Andrea went on to talk about what she was getting Rick. She was glowing with passion, that thing that Casey was most suspicious of.
Both her friends knew what a philanderer her father had been. He’d no doubt made moves on both their mothers at some time over the summers here! And when her own mom had found out? Shrieking and pot throwing and breaking glass.
And then passion clouding the poor woman’s judgment all over again.
“How is your mother since your father passed?” Andrea asked suddenly, as if she had picked it up telepathically. Such was the way between old friends.
You don’t want to know. “Fine,” Casey said briefly.
“I wish she would come for the vow renewal,” Emily said. “She’s not going to be alone because you’ve come here, is she?”
“Oh, no,” Casey managed to squeak. “She’s not going to be alone.”
She could feel her throat tightening suspiciously, and she swallowed hard and focused quickly on the inn’s dog, a gorgeous golden retriever mix named Harper. The female dog came up with her happy grin and put her head in Casey’s lap.
“This kind of love I can live with,” Casey said lightly, scratching the dog’s ears and smiling at the tail thumping on the floor. “Oh, look! It’s snowing.”
She gently maneuvered free of the affectionate pet, then got up and went to the window. She shouldn’t have told her friends she had given up on love. Maybe she shouldn’t have told them she was thinking of alternative ways to have a family, either. She had left herself wide-open to a Christmas campaign to make her change her mind.
But she’d had enough proof of the folly of love to last her a lifetime, and it should be easy enough to change the subject when it came up.
As she looked out the window, headlights illuminated the thickly falling snow. A cab emerged from the night and pulled up in front of the inn, sliding a little when it tried to stop on the icy driveway.
A man got out of the back, dressed casually in a parka with a fur-lined hood, jeans tucked into laced snow boots. He strode around to the rear and waited for the driver to retrieve his bags from the trunk. Then, with his luggage at his feet in the snow, he paid the cabbie, clapping him on the shoulder at his effusive thanks for what must have been a great Christmas tip.
It was dark and it was snowing hard, but there was something about the way the new arrival carried himself that penetrated both the storm and
