Christmas at Schroon Lake

Sara Walker hadn't been back to Schroon Lake, New York, since her grandmother's funeral six years ago. It wasn't that she didn't necessarily love the small town charm or the childhood memories tied to it—it was just that life had not been easy since she left. Her job as a senior product director for a large design consulting agency in downtown Boston kept her busy and exhausted, especially working for big-name clients like Meta and Google. Her social life, while far from perfect, was enough to keep her largely occupied; she had a small, close-knit group of a few girlfriends she could talk to and do life with. Coffee chats, dinners, road trips, and shopping were fun and all, but not always very fulfilling. And now, with the thought of returning to her hometown, everyone was going to ask her about Kent.

She was heartbroken. Sara's one-and-a-half-year engagement came to an abrupt end a little over six months ago when her fiancé, Kent, broke things off. He told her seemingly out of the blue that he felt like they had grown apart, and it wasn't long after their split that she heard he was now dating his attractive co-worker, Lisa.

Had Kent ever truly loved her? The thought ate at her, but one thing was clear—she would never allow herself to feel this kind of pain again. But beneath this vow was something darker growing—something she didn’t like to admit. It wasn’t just about Kent anymore. It was about her. She didn’t trust herself to love again. To give so much of herself and risk being left hollow. What if she made the same mistakes? What if she chose someone who saw her as Kent had—less than enough? Was love to much of a weakness? She couldn’t afford to be weak again.

But even as she built walls in her mind, the memory refused to be locked away. It was an ordinary evening, at least at first. They had just finished dinner and moved to the living room to relax. She could even remember the way the lamp in the corner cast its golden glow across the room as they settled into the living room. Sara had curled up on the couch, a small comfort in what she didn’t yet realize would be a defining moment. Kent sat in his usual chair, legs stretched out.
“You mentioned Lisa again at dinner,” Sara began, her voice calm but careful. “Why did you spend so much time with her? It’s been over two years now, hasn’t it?”

“We’re on the same projects,” Kent said, the response coming too easily.
Sara pressed on. “But those are projects you chose to do together, right? Just you and her. Your boss didn’t assign you to them?”
Kent shifted slightly in his seat. “We have similar interests,” he said, a hint of defensiveness creeping into his voice.
“But didn’t Phil have similar interests too? Why not work with him too?”
For the first time, Kent hesitated, glancing away. “Kind of like I said,” he muttered, his tone growing flatter, “Lisa and I just have more in common.” He paused. “And she’s so passionate.”

Sara looked down, her voice barely audible. “I wish someone would say that about me.” Silence lingered between them. Then, she added, “Can you at least tone it down with her? You text a lot too.”
Kent sighed, the annoyance clear now as he looked at her. “You and I have grown apart.”

Without a word, he pushed himself up from the chair, trailing off as he left her behind and sitting alone in the silence. The emptiness of that moment still hurt. It wasn’t just the feeling of betrayal; it felt like it struck at the very core of what it means to be committed to someone. As if that weren’t enough, when she pointed out how angry he would get if the roles were reversed— and over far less—Kent simply shrugged it off.

“I’ve grown,” he said. “That’s why I didn’t need the same boundaries with Lisa as I may have had before.”

Even now, Sara couldn’t believe those words had left his mouth. She mentally filed them away, right at the top of her ever-growing list of relationship dysfunctions, under the category “Legendary.”

In the end, she blamed herself. Maybe she had been too focused on work—all those late nights at the office. Or pushed Kent too hard to step up and meet her half way with helping around the house, even if it was more than fair. She saw herself differently after that. Mistakes, big or small, became proof of her flaws, and she didn’t hesitate to call herself “stupid” when something went wrong. Worse, she accepted it—as if it were the truth she earned.

She also wondered if that was why she’d stayed away from Schroon Lake all these years. It was easier to hide behind her career than to come home where neighbors would ask about wedding plans that would never happen, and childhood friends might offer their part pity, part relief that it wasn’t them. Some nights, alone in her apartment, she still found herself wanting to tell Kent about her day.

She had tried dating here and there in the past few weeks, but no real connections. She had even dipped her toe into the world of dating apps—something she swore she'd never do—but scrolling through profiles and exchanging awkward messages felt more discouraging than exciting. Every match seemed promising for about twenty minutes, until most conversations fizzled out or there was just a big mismatch of values.

Either way, nothing seemed to grow into more, and after a few disappointing dates that left her feeling more lonely than before, she was starting to wonder if she was destined to be single forever. And it didn’t make it any easier that she turned 39 this year. The truth was, she was close to giving up on love entirely.

Even with everything going on, Sara hadn’t realized just how much she missed Schroon Lake and the quiet beauty of the Adirondacks until her mother called. Aunt Linda needed help.

“We could really use your help, Sara,” her mother said gently. “We’re getting too old to keep driving back and forth like this.”
“When would she need me?” Sara asked, her voice hesitant.
“As soon as possible, sweetie. She’s really struggling just to keep up with the basics—cleaning, cooking, laundry, everything.”

Sara sighed. “This isn’t great timing, Mom. I’m swamped at work, and honestly, I don’t know if I’m ready to see everyone. Not after everything with Kent. I don’t know. It’s just hard.”
“I know, sweetheart. I do. But Aunt Linda loves you, and we all do. Don’t underestimate how much that matters.”

After Sara's grandmother passed away, Aunt Linda and Uncle Jack, who lived just a few blocks away from Grandma, sold their own place and moved into Grandma's beautiful lakeside home, wanting to keep it in the family.

But now, with her worsening rheumatoid arthritis and after losing Uncle Jack six months earlier, Aunt Linda was struggling on her own. Sara's parents, who had lived in Schroon Lake for most of their lives and raised Sara there, had recently retired to the Catskills. Yet, they found themselves frequently making the drive back to Schroon Lake for stints at a time to help Aunt Linda with groceries, cleaning, doctor's appointments, and anything else she needed. The strain and the three hour one-way drives were wearing on her and Dad, so she was reaching out to other family to see who might be able to come and help with Aunt Linda, at least for a time.

Sara paced slowly around her tiny Boston apartment, phone to her ear, listening to her best friend Jen.

“So, you're going back to Schroon Lake?”

Sara sighed. “Well, I wasn't exactly planning on it, but Mom called and Aunt Linda's needs help. Her arthritis has gotten so bad that Mom and Dad have been running themselves

ragged trying to help. Dad has been driving back and forth from their place in the Catskills, and he is pretty exhausted. Mom called and asked if I could come and take a turn.”

“How are you feeling about it?” Jen asked. “I don’t want to go, but I feel like I should help take a turn to care for Aunt Linda.” Sara stopped pacing and leaned against the wall. “I haven't thought too much about Schroon Lake in a while. I’m glad I got out of there. Plus, work is crazy, then Kent.”

“Kent,” Jen said, her voice filled with sharp annoyance. “Don't even get me started on him again. Actually, get me started. What a disconnected guy he ended up being. I’ll say it again, my dear. You deserve much, much better.”

“I know. I mean, I guess your right. I’ve mulled it over endlessly. Too many times. Grown apart? Why didn’t he say anything earlier? Why didn’t he fight for us? For me?” Sara twirled the ends of her hair, noticing the split ends. “It's just, I feel tired and bored with myself. And now I'm going back to Schroon Lake? Alone? I feel like a loser.”

Jen's tone softened.

“Maybe this trip back is a good thing. Sure, it won’t be easy, but maybe it will help. Space, fresh air, time to be out of your normal routine. Boston can be the worst anyway.”

Jen paused thinking, then said, “And who knows, maybe you’ll meet some handsome mountain man who’ll sweep you off your feet!” Jen teasing.

Sara laughed. “Right. Because Prince Charming is definitely hiding out in the Adirondacks, chopping firewood and waiting for me.”

Sara’s eyes drifted toward the small picture frame on her wall, a photo of her grandmother’s house by the lake.

Aunt Linda's husband passed away a few months ago, and while Sara had sent her condolences with a card and a phone call, she hadn’t checked in since. The guilt of missing

Uncle Jack’s funeral because of work weighed on her as she made the drive back through snow- covered roads. She stared out the windshield, watching as the town's familiar landmarks came into view. The small-town charm of Schroon Lake had always been there. It was like something out of a Hallmark movie. Main Street was barely a quarter of a mile long, but it was filled with twinkling lights hung from lampposts, wreaths decorated every shop door, cozy lodges nestled back among the large pine trees, and a large Christmas tree at the center of town. Glowing white snow was on everything. The smell of pine in the air. Schroon Lake was the sort of place where Christmas was happily and fully celebrated.

The small-town rustic charm was at its best during the annual Olde Tyme Christmas celebration. The event was always packed with fun activities and lots of people from all over. The homemade cider contest—Sara's favorite—Christmas tree raffles, holiday lights parade, singing carolers, and horse-drawn wagons brought the whole little town to life. Snowfall in early December was at least four inches and the weather could drop to the low 30s each evening, but nothing could dampen the festive spirit of this place during the holidays.

The quaint blue cottage, her childhood home, was nestled at the end of a quiet road around the corner from Main Street. As she turned down the road, she could see the house in the distance. A little more weathered with each passing year, but still full of character. It was where she grew up, where Sara made so many wonderful memories. It still had the original red wood door and black trim windows with a welcoming light brown wrap-around porch that included rocking chairs and small tables. Sara remembered summers spent on the front porch swing with her grandmother. They would often drink lemonade and eat cookies on the porch. She didn't realize it fully, but now that she was back she already felt a little happier.

She parked her Audi and then grabbed her luggage and a few gifts from the trunk. As she walked up the stone steps, the red door opened and Aunt Linda stood there, wearing a warm but tired smile.

“Sara,” Aunt Linda said, her voice soft but full of emotion. “You're here.” “I'm here,” Sara replied, pulling her aunt in for a big, long hug. Inside, the familiar warmth of the cottage greeted her: the smell of fresh-baked bread and the crackle of the wood-burning fire in the fireplace. The floor-to-ceiling windows in the main living area showing the beautiful lake in view. It was strange, in many ways this place made it feel like time didn’t pass much at all. Yet, something was missing, there was a stillness in the house, the kind that sometimes comes with loss and grief.

“So good to have you here. We have so much to catch up on. But, first, you must be hungry,” Aunt Linda said, leading her into the kitchen. “I made soup. It's nothing fancy, but I thought you might like something warm after the drive.”

“That sounds perfect, Aunt Linda.” They sat down together at the kitchen table, and for a while, the conversation stayed light. Aunt Linda filled her in on the town’s goings-on, the house, her arthritis, and Sara told her about work and life in Boston. But as they kept talking, the weight of heavier things were hard to ignore.

“I don't know how to do this without him,” Aunt Linda admitted. “The holidays were our thing. I know we never had kids of our own, but we loved decorating the tree, hanging lights, and wrapping presents for you and other children in the neighborhood. Now...it just feels empty without him.”

Sara reached across the table, taking her aunt's hand in hers. “I know, Aunt Linda. I miss Uncle Jack too. I’m so sorry I missed his funeral. I should have been there.”
Aunt Linda gave her a weak but understanding smile. “You were going through a lot. Jack would’ve understood.” Aunt Linda’s words eased some of Sara’s guilt, though not all of it. Outside, the light had begun to fade.

“Thanks for the chat Aunt Linda, we can talk more tomorrow, but I guess I should get myself settled and unpacked. It’s great to be back.” Sara and Aunt Linda hugged again and then Sara excused herself to go upstairs and unpack. The guest room hadn’t changed much since she last remembered it—a different quilt on the bed, a few more framed photographs of family on the nightstand, but otherwise pretty much the same. As she got settled, she felt anger—at herself, at Kent, the way he had stolen her focus, her time, and moments like her Uncle’s funeral— moments she could never get back.

As she opened the closet to hang up her coat, something caught her eye. A small, metal tin sat on the top shelf. She was going to ignore it at first, but something in her said why not. She pulled it down. Inside were old unsent letters. Her grandmother's handwriting was across each envelope, some addressed to people in town, some to other family members, and a few to people she didn't know. Sara was surprised to see one addressed to her.

“My Dearest Sara, I've watched you grow into something beautiful. Remember, life has a way of surprising us with unexpected joys and second chances. Keep your heart soft, even when life hurts you (and it will hurt you). You have always been brave enough to love deeply, and that's a gift. Life will go by faster than you think. It’s why you are here, to risk your heart. Love Always, Grandma”

Tears welled in Sara's eyes as she held the letter and pictured her grandmother's face. It was sweet of her grandmother to think of her. But time and broken relationships made her more of a realist. The note was moving, but nothing she would think to take too seriously. Sara carefully placed the letter back in the tin box and carried it downstairs. Sara carefully placed the letter back in the tin box and carried it downstairs. She set it in the catchall tray at the far end of the kitchen counter, tucked beside the phone where keys, chains, and other little odds and ends quietly piled up—things that faded into the background until one day you noticed them. The box settled in like it belonged there, though its presence tugged at her thoughts. Maybe she’d talk to Aunt Linda about the letters someday. Just not yet.

The next morning, Sara awoke to the sound of voices downstairs. When she made her way down, she heard a man's voice mixed in with her aunt's laughter. As she rounded the corner into the kitchen, she stopped short.

James Mitchell stood at the counter, fixing what looked like the ancient coffee maker. He was strikingly tall—six-foot-four at least—but carried himself differently now than when she'd last seen him during his West Point college days.

She and James had grown up together here in Schroon Lake. For years, they’d been inseparable, riding bikes everywhere around town, swimming in the lake, and daring each other to climb things you shouldn’t really try and climb. But by late high school, things had shifted. James had drifted into the “cool crowd,” while she, well, hadn’t. He never said anything unkind, but there had been this quiet distance that stung more than she wanted to admit. It wasn’t the kind of pain you carried forever—it just kind of felt shameful and embarrassing for some reason. Still, seeing him now brought a flicker of that old feeling back.

She knew from old friends that he had gone on to an MBA at Stanford Graduate School of Business and then started his own successful software company. But seeing him here, back in Schroon Lake, was still a surprise. Life, it seemed, had brought him full circle—especially after he lost his wife.

His dark hair was still thick but styled differently, and fine lines around his eyes hinted at heavier things. “Sara,” he said, straightening up. “I heard you were coming back.” Before she could respond, the sound of small feet came from the family room, and an eight-year-old girl with her father's dark hair and what must have been her mother's delicate features appeared in the doorway. “Dad, is my cereal ready?”

“Almost, sweetie,” James said, then turned back to Sara. “My daughter,” he added softly. Sara watched as Lily climbed onto one of the kitchen stools. The scene was so natural, it took Sara a moment to process how James Mitchell had become such a fixture in her aunt's kitchen.

“It’s so good to see you Sara,” James said excitedly. “You too. Are you back in Schroon Lake?” Sara asked. “Yes, since moving back two years ago with Lily, after my wife Cheryl passed...well, your aunt's been such a blessing to us,” James said. “And you know how Aunt Linda and Uncle Jack were like a second parents to me growing up, and now...now she's like a grandmother to Lily.”

The coffee maker finally sputtered to life. “Ha!” James exclaimed triumphantly. “Still got it. Though I think this thing is older than Lily,” he said laughing at himself.

“I need to head into town for some supplies,” James said, checking his watch. “The hardware store got a shipment of those rubber washers you need for the upstairs faucet, Aunt Linda. Want to come along, Sara? I can show you what's changed and what hasn’t and we can catch up a bit.” She found herself saying yes before she could overthink it.

The Adirondack General Store was their first stop. The store had everything—tools, clothes, toys, candy, you name it. This place felt like a collection of small, familiar moments— handwritten signs in shop windows, the creak of the old door, the way everyone seemed to know your name without needing to ask. Sara remembered buying her Necco Wafers here and James always wanted the candy cigarettes. Now, as they picked up supplies for Aunt Linda's faucet, their conversation flowed, catching up on the years between then and now.

“Stanford, huh?” Sara asked as they walked down Main Street. “Pretty impressive for the boy who used to put frogs in my backpack.” James gave a big laugh.

“That was one time! And as I recall, you got even by smashing a cupcake in my face at your grandmother's Fourth of July picnic. A few times, if I recall right.”

Sara chuckled. Before long, they found themselves in front of The Book Burrow.
“Want to stop in?” James asked. “Just for old time’s sake?”
Sara nodded, remembering the hours they’d spent there as kids. Inside, Mr. Caldwell still

held court among his beloved books.
“Sara Walker!” he shouted. “And James Mitchell! Together again, I see. Wow, welcome back Sara!”
“Good to see you too, Mr Caldwell,” they both replied. Sara felt mildly embarrassed, but

James just smiled, as she picked up a copy of Pride and Prejudice from a nearby display and studied it.

“Still collecting different editions?” James asked.

“You remember that?” Sara said surprisingly. “I remember a lot of things,” James said matter-of-factly. After they left the general store, Sara and James strolled by Strand, the little historic Art Deco movie theater originally built in the the early 1920s, its marquee lit up with “It’s a Wonderful Life” in bold letters. They recalled seeing many movies there growing up. They kept moving and talking through the little town together, careful to step through the snow on the sidewalk.

“Interested in coffee? I could use another cup,” James said.

“That sounds great,” Sara feeling good about how this little trip was unfolding.
At 9 Mile Coffee Co., they found a quiet corner table. The small cafe was dimly lit, with exposed brick walls, and red and green Christmas lights strung all over the place. James ordered his usual black coffee, while Sara tried their seasonal gingerbread latte, Nat King Cole's “The Christmas Song” playing lightly in the background.

“Thank you,” Sara said, starting things off. “Looks like you are a big help to Aunt Linda. After Uncle Jack, and with her arthritis...”

James shook his head. “Your family took care of me when I needed it most. My mom working doubles at the hospital, your aunt and grandmother making sure I always had a place to go...and now, with everything... Linda's been great with Lily. Helps us both, really. Yeah, it’s the least I can do.”

“That’s a good thing,” Sara replied.

James paused for a second and glanced at her thoughtfully, “How are you, though? Really?”

Sara hesitated. “Busy. Work’s been good, honestly. I love what I do—it keeps me grounded. But...” She deciding to let her guard down just a little. “I just got out of a relationship. Kent. My finance. It was...messy. Messy in a way that makes you question things about yourself you thought you were sure of.”

James nodded, the weight of her words landing with him. “I’m really sorry to hear that, Sara.” He leaned back slightly. “For what it’s worth, I always thought you were one of the strongest people I knew.”

Sara looked up at him, surprised by the compliment, “Really?”

“Yeah,” James said, his voice softening as he glanced at her. “I’ve been thinking about how we drifted apart. I don’t know why I let it happen. High school...it’s like I was so focused on trying to be someone I wasn’t, I didn’t realize what I was leaving behind. You didn’t deserve that, Sara.”

“I missed you too. It wasn’t the worst thing in the world I guess,” Sara admitted, her tone light but honest. “It just kind of... sucked, you know?”

James let out a breath. “Yeah. It did. And I’m sorry for that.”

“Well, we were kids,” she said with a small shrug. “We were just trying to figure things out.”

James smiled faintly. “Maybe I’m still working on it.”
“That makes two of us,” Sara laughed.
Over the next few weeks, Sara fell into a more comfortable routine. Mornings were often

spent sharing coffee and breakfast with James and Lily and Aunt Linda, followed by helping her aunt with various tasks while balancing her own consulting work remotely. Late afternoons often meant running errands or working from the cozy window seat overlooking the lake. But it was the evenings James came over that she started to look forward to the most.

One evening, after Lily had fallen asleep on the couch during a movie night, James carried her upstairs to the guest room. When he came back down, Sara was sitting by the warm fire.

“I’m really sorry about Cheryl,” Sara said softly. James sat beside her.
“Two-and-half years ago. Cancer. It was...fast.” He paused quietly for a minute.

“I didn't know how to move forward. Still don’t, I guess. And then there is Lily. I loved growing up here. So I just came back. It was something I could try to give to her. Lily still sleeps with her mom's old cardigan, you know?”

Sara didn’t say much, just listened. They talked more as the night went on. He asked her questions about Boston. Her job. How long she might stay in town for.

The next evening, after Aunt Linda had gone to bed, Sara retreated to her room and called Jen.

“So how's life there?” Jen asked.

“It’s going well I guess. I’m glad to be here for Aunt Linda. And I’ve been getting to know an old friend, James Michell,” Sara said, sinking onto her bed.

“James? Who’s James?”

“He’s a guy I grew up with. He was like family in a way, but we lost touch. He moved back here with his daughter.”

“Daughter?” Jen inquired curiously.

“Lily. She's eight. Her mom - James's wife - passed away over a year or so ago and they moved back here soon after that. They're here quite a bit at Aunt Linda’s house. James helps around here and Aunt Linda helps with Lily. Aunt Linda was like a second mom to him growing up, so yeah.”

“Sounds very...domestic. And how do you feel about that?”

Sara was quiet for a moment. It is very domestic and it feels good, Sara thought to herself.

But Sara only responded with a “Yeah, it’s kinda nice,” to Jen.
“So is this your mountain man, then? I guess I was right?” Jen said laughing gently.
“I don’t know how I feel honestly. I mean, is a year or whatever too soon anyway? Not

that I’m interested in dating anyone, especially an old friend from Schroon Lake. And what about Lily, anyway? When does a grieving husband move on?”

“Oh wow, those are serious questions,” Jen replied.

Sara gave a light shrug, brushing off Jen’s comment, and then changed the subject. But later, when the room was quiet, she found herself replaying the moment. It wasn’t anything, she told herself—but it lingered anyway.

The next morning was the first day of the annual Olde Tyme Christmas celebration. Sara helped Lily make decorations for various rooms in the house while James and Aunt Linda argued good-naturedly about the best way to string lights along the porch. Boxes of ornaments and lights were scattered all around the floor, the type of mess that was most welcome this time of year.

James walked in from the porch, carrying a new string of Christmas tree lights he’d picked up in town earlier that day.

“Thought I’d help you get this tree in shape,” he said with a big grin looking at Sara. “Plus, if I remember correctly, you always liked to have the final say on tree decorations.”

Sara shook her head with a grin, rolling her eyes as she picked up a box of ornaments.
“I was ten years old, James. It’s not my fault I had good taste in tree decor even then.” “Oh right, I forgot” he said playfully, stringing the lights across the branches. “Let’s see if

you’ve still got it.”
They worked together, passing ornaments back and forth. When they finally stepped back

to admire their work, James teased, “Still want the final adjustments?”
“Only because I always get it right,” Sara teased back.
“Careful,” he said. “One day, someone might challenge you on that.”
Sara felt her heart skip, but she just laughed it off, nudging him lightly with her arm. “I’d like to see them try.”

But as James smiled and turned back to the tree, Sara’s laughter faded. For a moment, she caught herself enjoying this too much—him too much. She was suddenly feeling the need to step back, to remind herself that this wasn’t anything more than what it was. She moved toward the box of decorations, her hands busier now, as though she was just being helpful and nothing more.

Later that afternoon, they walked through the snow together to watch the cider contest and enjoy some of the best cider in the region. The cider was so good people came from all over town. Lily was on Sara’s shoulders so she could see the contest over everyone standing. The judges would taste a cider, write down a few notes, then move on to the next one. The crowd would cheer when each rating was announced. James moved next to Sara and put his hand steady on her back to keep her and Lily balanced, but instead of taking his hand away, he kept it there. They looked into each other’s eyes and smiled sweetly. Sara couldn’t help it, she got butterflies in her stomach, but also came a quiet voice telling her to stay cautious.

That evening, Sara noticed Lily alone by the window, quiet.
“Everything okay?” Sara asked.
Lily nodded, “Dad said your grandma used to make hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows.”
“She did,” Sara replied, settling beside her. She'd serve it in these big blue mugs with snowflakes on them.”
“Like those?” Lily pointed to the shelf where the mugs sat.
“Exactly like those,” Sara answered happily.
“Would you like to try making her recipe? I think I remember how.” Lily's face lit up big. “Really?” In the kitchen, Sara helped Lily measure ingredients, showing her how to warm the milk slowly. Than the chocolate. When James came in from clearing ice off the driveway, he found them at the counter, heads bent together over the steaming mugs, Lily carefully placing marshmallows one by one on top of her chocolate.

“Dad!” Lily called. “We made Grandma’s special hot chocolate recipe! Sara showed me how!”

Something warmed in James's soul as he watched them - hope, maybe, or just happiness.

A few days passed, and then one morning, while Sara was helping Aunt Linda with breakfast in the kitchen, James came in with Lily trailing behind him.

“Hey James, looks like time for fresh hot coffee this morning?” Aunt Linda asked, already reaching for the beans.

“Actually,” James said, “Lily and I were thinking of taking a walk up to Severance Mountain. It’s a pretty short hike and the views are just gorgeous. It’s kind of a tradition or rather we hope to make it one—Lily and I went last Christmas Eve to watch the sunrise.” He paused, glancing at Sara. “Would you like to join us?”

Sara looked up from where she was buttering her toast. This was his and Lily's thing, a special tradition in the making, and she wasn't sure if it was her place to join in.
Why would she join? She hadn’t even wanted to come back to Schroon Lake, not really. And James? Seeing him again had thrown her off balance—unexpected, but not uncomfortable. They’d fallen into an easy rhythm, sure, but it wasn’t like she thought of him beyond a friend yet. At least, she didn’t think so. And she was pretty sure he didn’t think he was there either. Plus, she had to be smart, be guarded. It was all too soon.

But as she opened her mouth to say no, her eyes wandered to the tin box sitting quietly at the far end of the kitchen counter in the tray—the one she’d carried down from the guest room on her first night. She saw her Grandmother’s face. Her voice telling her about how fast life goes by.

She looked over at James. “Yes,” she said. “I'd love to go.”