Page 28 of Mistletoe Sky
Amelie guessed that finding them like this had ruined Marius and Willa’s night—that theirs had been a romantic evening of reconnecting.
Willa’s eyes were on their grandmother, captivated by her. And then, all at once, they fell on Amelie. Amelie’s heart seized with panic. In Willa’s eyes, she saw so much: memories of the past, all the pain they’d been running away from, their millions of hours of conversations. She saw the arguments they’d had in Tennessee; she saw Willa’s previous belief that they were better off apart. Yet here they were, Amelie and Willa, across the street from the fudge shop, together again after so long.
Amelie had “followed” Willa here from her cabin in Big Sur. She’d essentially stalked her twin sister's home. (Was it possible to stalk your twin?)
Pascal, the trumpeter, and the drummer began to play a quieter tune, allowing the audience members to grab new drinks or chat a bit. The spell was broken. Willa turned on her heel and rushed out of the bar and into the street. Amelie burst away from her table, reaching for her coat on the hanger. She wouldn’t let Willa get away like this. As she fled the bed-and-breakfast, she drew her arms through the sleeves and raced after her sister. Marius hung back, watching them from the doorway.
But Willa hadn’t gone far.
Willa stood in front of the window of the fudge shop with her back to Amelie. Snow filtered down, drawing a curtain of white between them. Amelie’s eyes smarted. To the tune of Pascal’s jazz, she walked slowly across the street, her heart pounding. What could she possibly say to her twin sister, the person she loved most in the world?
Amelie stood two feet to Willa’s left, following Willa’s gaze into the dark fudge shop. For nearly a minute, neither of them spoke. It sounded like Marius went inside to get out of the cold and give them the space they needed.
Finally, Willa breathed, “I didn’t know you were here.”
Amelie sniffed. “I got here the same day you did.”
Willa flinched and looked at her for a split second before looking away. “How did you know I was coming?”
Amelie shrugged. “I keep up with your career.”
“I keep up with yours, too.”
Amelie snorted, and Willa gave her another look.
“Sorry. It’s just, there isn’t much of a career to keep up with,” Amelie said.
“I’ve read everything,” Willa said, her voice gentle. “You’re a wonderful writer.”
Amelie blinked rapidly, touched. She needed a glass of water, or a glass of wine, or a glass of whiskey. She wanted to calm her racing mind.
“You’re making a commercial,” Amelie said. “For the Christmas Festival?”
“A few of them, apparently,” Willa said. “I felt forced into it. It’s a long story. I met with the committee yesterday. It was strange.”
“I have time for a long story,” Amelie said. “I’ve always had nothing but time.”
Willa was quiet. Amelie wondered if this was too much for her, if she wanted to try for a conversation another night. Goodness, they had so much to uncover, so much to say. Would they find the strength?
When Willa didn’t say anything else, Amelie offered, “I’m going to open the fudge shop tomorrow.”
This caught Willa’s attention. She jerked her head around and asked, “Why would you do that?”
Amelie’s heartbeat escalated. It was true that it felt reckless and strange, but when she’d pitched the idea to Grandma Mary, Grandma Mary had gushed so effusively that Amelie had realized she couldn’t go back on it. Besides, she hated that the fudge shop was closed. It made her feel as though Christmas had been canceled, as if the Caraway family no longer existed.
“Grandma said they closed after Thanksgiving,” Amelie said. “Imagine how much money they’re losing, the shop being empty like this. And I hate the idea that tourists are coming to the island and can’t buy Caraway Fudge. It’s the best fudge on the island. Imagine coming all the way here and having to eat, like, Rita’s fudge.”
“A tragedy,” Willa agreed, her voice low.
“It’s just for the holidays,” Amelie said. “I’m going to start baking bright and early tomorrow morning. I’m staying over at the bed-and-breakfast, so it’ll be an easy commute.”
Willa flared her nostrils. “Why can’t Dad do it?”
Amelie’s stomach heaved. “Grandma wouldn’t say. She just said he isn’t up to it right now. She said I should go see him soon.”
“But you’re not going to,” Willa said, her voice pointed.
Amelie shrugged. “I haven’t decided.”
