CHAPTER 41
“This is beautiful,” Remy said as John pulled into the parking lot of the Lilac Inn. Earlier in the week, Remy had called to book two rooms at the Middlebury Inn, but because she’d waited so long, there weren’t any rooms left—never mind two. She’d hung up and called John, hoping he’d agree that it would be best if they just stayed home, but he assured her he knew of a place in nearby Brandon.
They climbed out of Remy’s car—which she’d happily let John drive—and he lifted out their luggage and set it on the ground. Remy, accustomed to doing everything herself, reached for her bag, but John picked it up first. “I’ve got this, miss,” he said with a smile that made her heart skip a beat.
“Well, if you insist,” she teased.
“I do.”
The drive to Vermont had been more than pleasant. Remy’s fear that they wouldn’t have anything to talk about was quickly forgotten—they’d talked about everything from their favorite local Cape Cod artisans to their shared love of reading. They also discovered they were both Red Sox fans—Remy admitting that she really only watched because Jim had loved the Red Sox.
John was also very interested in hearing all about the goings-on in the lives of Remy’s children, Payton, Eliza, and Sam, and Remy found herself chatting away cheerfully while John laughed at all of the anecdotes and funny antics of her grandchildren. More than once, she started off by saying, “This probably won’t be of any interest to you. . . .” but John always assured her that it would be.
In Hanover, New Hampshire, they stopped for lunch, and over soup and salad, John regaled her with stories of his time at Dartmouth.
“To think you were right here while Jim and I were in Middlebury is just so . . . unbelievable,” Remy said.
“It is a small world,” John agreed, smiling.
They’d been quiet for the rest of the ride, each lost in their own thoughts, but the silence hadn’t been awkward—it had felt like the easy, comfortable silence of two old friends.
They walked up the front steps into the elegant lobby of the inn and were immediately greeted by a big black Lab, who, Remy thought, looked just like Bailey. As the innkeeper showed them to their rooms, he told them about all of the local attractions, but John explained that they were there just for a college reunion.
“Reunions are fun,” the innkeeper said, “but if you find you’ve had enough socializing, there are plenty of other things to do. It would be a shame to come all the way up here and not see some of the sights, and if you like hiking, the Robert Frost Trail is one of Vermont’s best-kept secrets.”
“I hiked the Robert Frost Trail a long time ago,” Remy said, remembering a hike she’d taken with Jim.
The owner unlocked the doors to their rooms and left them talking in the hall.
“You sound like you’d rather go hiking,” John teased.
“I actually would like to try to do some other things while we’re here,” Remy admitted. “You won’t know anyone at the reunion and I’m worried you’ll be bored . . . and me . . . well . . .” She smiled. “I’ve been a social misfit all my life—I always say the wrong thing at the wrong time—so the less time I spend at the reunion, the less of a fool I’ll make of myself.”
“You’re not a fool,” John said, frowning, “and I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say the wrong thing at the wrong time . . . or any other time, for that matter. I think your stories are wonderful and funny, and I don’t think you realize what a lovely, warm personality you have.”
“Hmm,” Remy said, eyeing him, “you must be thinking of someone else.”
“I’m not thinking of someone else and I am looking forward to having you on my arm at the reception in”—he looked at his watch—“an hour.”
Remy raised her eyebrows in alarm. “An hour?” She felt her heart pound. “I have to get ready!”
John watched as she turned around and bustled into her room, letting the door click behind her. A second later, she reappeared, smiling sheepishly. “Meet you back here in an hour?”
John laughed and nodded.