Page 83 of The Matchmaker's Cottage

Her own father had come up to see Donwell only sporadically over the course of its existence.

He had also, in fairness, come up for the first two Christmases so that she wouldn’t have to leave during a busier time of year for the business and they could still enjoy the holidays together. After those first two visits, though, which had been awkward and stilted, her dad hadn’t come up again, citing bad weather or the potential contagiousness of a persistent cold.

Ethan’s parents had also made the journey a few times, staying more frequently and admiring all she had done to fix the place up and turn it into what it had become. Even if there was a bit of unspoken melancholia around the absence of their son. It had always felt a bit awkward to Julia—she wondered if they regretted their decision to sell it to her rather than havingit stay in their family since things hadn’t worked out the way they had thought they would.

It made her think about her family’s cottage, the way it existed now, full of warmth and love again, so close but not. She was happy its walls could shine with the warmth of family and affection, of Maggie’s mom’s cooking and her dad’s hearty laughter. It made her sad that it was no longer her family filling the rooms with life—had they ever really?—but at least it hadn’t just been left there to rot.

She did wonder about whether it contributed to her father’s absence, though. Or the fact that it was the other cottage that had become Donwell, and it wasn’thersortheirsin the same way. She suspected that the reason he hadn’t come was more likely because he wasn’t interested in another stilted holiday with the daughter he barely spoke to and the people she employed, but perhaps that wasn’t being fair to him, either. She would never really know. She understood it was a bit far for him to drive these days, now that he was no longer in the prime of his life with 20/20 vision, but it still stung a bit in a way that no weekly phone calls could really, truly replace.

Those ruminations and regrets were why, after Hank had gone back to New York following his brief stay—barely even twenty-four hours—she had called her dad. And she had told him everything.

He had already known, of course, about the presence of Hank in her life. Had known when he’d had plans to reveal himself to her, had had to give him his blessing, in fact, as Hank hadn’t wanted to overstep. But with the support Hank had offered her, Dad had likely felt hard pressed to say no. Whatever his true feelings were, Julia couldn’t know.

So when she had called him and told him—not just aboutHank but about Donwell suffering financially, about her falling-out with Ethan, about the whole Katy-and-Noah situation—her dad had been stunned into silence.

“I had no idea, Julia,” he’d said quietly after a few moments to collect himself. “About the financial troubles, about Ethan…I figured you guys had just drifted apart after all those years, like how these things happen sometimes.” He’d sighed heavily. “You should have told me. I could have helped. Even Hank would have—”

“Come on, Dad,” Julia had scoffed. “You know me better than that.”

“Yeah.” Her father had sighed again. “You were certainly never one for handouts. I just wish I had known. Maybe I could have helped somehow.”

“You haven’t even been up here in ages.” The words had come out unintentionally accusatory. Though she’d felt the abandonment of it, she hadn’t planned on making it known.

There’d been silence for a long moment. And then: “I know. I shouldn’t let my own fears prevent me from being a good father. From doing what’s right.” His voice had got deeper, cracked. “I’m a coward.”

“No, Dad!” That hadn’t been what she’d wanted at all. “That’s not what I meant. I just—I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, believe me.” He’d sighed. “I was planning on coming this year for Christmas. Last year was…a lot. The anniversary of your mother’s passing, over twenty years since she left us. It all just came to a head. But this year, Julia, I promise I’ll be there this Christmas. If you’ll have me?”

Julia hadn’t replied right away, the pain of his reminder still prominent despite the time that had passed. There was so much sorrow in her family history. So much hidden for the sake ofprotecting her, when really it was the truth that would have helped the most.

But she had a choice now. She could simmer in the bitterness of it, could think about how different life might have been if things had happened differently. Or she could simplylive. She could revel in the burst of the new business she was experiencing, in the possibility that things might actually be okay financially. She could look forward to her dad’s supposed Christmas arrival. She could celebrate Maggie’s new love and admire Norman’s hostas and be grateful for the people she had in her life who loved her and wanted what was best for her.

And she could keep Ethan in her heart, a memory forever, to pull out in the times when she needed a reminder of how good things had once been.

That was the type of life she wanted to lead. No more living in the past, instead only looking ahead to the future.

“Yeah, Dad,” she’d said finally, hoping he could hear only the smile in her voice and not the tears, “Christmas would be great.”

29

“What about Christmas?”

Ethan looked up from his bowl of cereal to his mother sitting across from him at the worn oak table of his childhood kitchen.

He had been with them almost three weeks now, and despite his unexpected arrival—straight to their door from the cottage, where he had left Julia and her grandfather behind—they had avoided any serious topics of discussion. Of course, they had been surprised to see him—even more surprised when he’d announced that he needed a place to stay for a couple of weeks, making the decision then and there to take a leave from work, consequences be damned, and try to get his head right before figuring out what the hell he wanted to do.

When he had first left the cottage—Donwell, he corrected himself—he hadn’t even anticipated where he’d been headed.

Pine needle branches had snapped against the windshield as he’d driven away, the rhythmic cacophony barely penetrating his haze. The trees had hung lower than he remembered,enveloping the car as he took the dirt road farther into the brush, away from the town, away from the cottage, away from his boss, away from—

Gem.

He knew he shouldn’t be feeling any guilt or regret, particularly for his dramatic monologue before he’d left. She’d wanted him to go! And everything he had said had been true—though he probably could have softened the delivery a bit. Still, it had been a long time coming. For so long, she’d been the steady, serious one, and he’d been her foil, bringing levity to their interactions and allowing her the opportunity to let loose once in a while. But this time—this time it had been too much. All of it. The present moment, the memories of the past, and the destroyed possibility of a future. He had lost too much of himself and all he’d known in that one day. So he’d needed to dosomething,saysomething. And in doing so, he had solidified the death of their friendship once and for all.

So he’d navigated out and around the familiar nature paths before reaching one of the main roads. He’d thought he was going to go right, had planned to go right, to catch I-90 east and keep going, back to his sterile Manhattan apartment, where all the food had been emptied from the fridge in his anticipation of a week’s stay at Donwell, and back to the job that had put him through the wringer—a job he suddenly wasn’t sure he could return to as the same version of himself. But inexplicably, he’d found himself missing the turn. Continuing north. And then he’d grabbed I-90 west.

The drive had felt so familiar that he could have done it with his eyes closed. It had been the drive of every summer ending, every finale of their time at the cottage. In the early years, it had been his dad at the wheel, young Ethan leaning his head againstthe window and watching with a sort of melancholy as the end of the summer was highlighted by the familiar drive home. As he’d gotten older, he’d taken over the burden of the drive, helping his dad out, or coming and going on his own—to accommodate work schedules or summer parties or whatever Gem’s timing was.