Page 18 of A Cozy Kind of Christmas
With one glaring problem.
Jill felt anything but merry.
“Matt’s meeting us at the lodge,” Jill said to Owen, forcing her voice to stay casual.
Owen’s face was pressed up against the window like a little kid on a snow day.
“Apparently, Lucinda’s dad owns the lodge and resort and, from what I gather, pretty much the rest of Bend,” Jill said, feeling a new swell of nerves.
“What’s she like?” Owen asked, dragging his gaze away from the spectacular scenery.
“No idea.” Jill shrugged. That wasn’t true. She had plenty of preconceived notions about Matt’s new girlfriend. None ofwhich were fair. Lucinda Hinton was likely a wonderful woman, but Jill felt fiercely loyal to Meg.
She needed to keep an open mind.
For Matt’s sake.
It must be serious if Lucinda was throwing him a huge three-day weekend birthday bash. Jill wondered just how serious Matt was about his new love.
Lucinda’s father, Howard Hinton, owned Blazen, the tech company Matt had been working for since they all left Portland. For a while, it seemed like Meg and Matt were making a serious go of long-distance, but then it all blew up. After the breakup, Lucinda’s name slowly started to creep into their text exchanges or semi-regular video chats. Matt would casually mention a hike or ski weekend with Lucinda and her family or find a way to weave her name into the conversation. Then pictures of them together—posing at the top of Paulina Falls and rafting on the Deschutes—appeared on his social media. As a mystery aficionado, it didn’t take much for Jill to piece the clues together and finally come out and ask him if they were dating.
Matt had admitted it sheepishly as if he were in the wrong. “You know, Jill, it’s been rough after everything with Megs. I guess I never thought we’d get to a point where we weren’t even speaking. Lucinda has been a good friend. She’s been a good cheerleader. I never anticipated falling for her. It happened naturally. I can’t wait for you to meet her. You’re going to love her.”
Jill understood, and she didn’t blame Matt for moving on, but she still held tight to a tiny glimmer of hope that maybe he and Meg would find their way back together.
When Jill received an invitation to his party out of the blue a couple of months ago, her heart stopped for a minute. It arrived in an expensive envelope with hand-drawn calligraphy and all the formality of a wedding invite. In fact, when she pulled it fromtheir PO box, her stomach dropped. For a full five seconds, she was convinced itwashis wedding invitation.
It was ridiculous to hold out hope for a Matt-and-Meg reunion, but she couldn’t help herself. They were perfect for each other.
Although, then again, maybe they weren’t. It had been almost a year since the last time they’d spoken. She shuddered at the memory of what had started as a fun pub-hopping weekend in Portland and had imploded into a blowout fight. One moment, they were laughing and reminiscing about old times over IPAs. The next, the two people she adored most in the world were walking away like strangers.
And she’d been stuck in the middle ever since.
Relaying messages, playing referee, dropping subtle hints.
“Matt got another promotion.”
“Did you see Meg’s latest article?”
She tried to be neutral.
Frankly, it sucked.
They were supposed to be a unit, a trio. They’d weathered so much together—heartbreaks, moves across the country and to another continent, careers that didn’t go as planned, grief.
Maybe this weekend could finally put an end to the silence, the not speaking. Maybe this could be the reset they all needed.
As for Lucinda, she was inclined to want to hate her. On principle, if nothing else.
But that wasn’t fair.
Keep an open mind, Jill.
Meg and Matt’s falling-out wasn’t Lucinda’s fault.
But Jill didn’t know if she was walking into a reunion or about to face disaster.
“What are you thinking?” Owen asked, pulling his face away from the window again and resting his hand on her thigh in aneasy show of affection. Her body instantly relaxed at his touch, ripples of calm spreading down from her shoulders.
