Page 5 of Postmarked December

She shrugged. “Toby always cooked.”

“It’s reading. You just read the recipe.”

Heather laughed. Happiness felt good.

“Speaking of books…” Marion took Heather by the arm and led her to her overnight bag. She put the croissant between her teeth and unzipped the duffel, the clinking sound returning. With a flourish, she retrieved a brown leather journal and held it out. Removing the pastry from her lips, she said, “I got this for you. Merry Christmas.”

“You didn’t have to get me anything.”

They’d already exchanged gift cards at work.

“I know, but I think this might be good for you. You could write down your feelings. You do better when you express them, so on the days you have no one to talk to, you can write.”

Leave it to Marion to fill the void once more.

Heather leaned in and gave her best friend a hug. “Thank you.”

“Of course.”

“What else is in your bag, by the way?” Heather asked. “Something keeps tinkling.”

“Oh, that’s my other gift—to both of us.” She pulled out two bottles of rosé. “In case the snow doesn’t let up. We can binge-watch Christmas movies and drink wine until we fall asleep.”

“I thought you weren’t a planner,” Heather teased.

“Wine, caffeine, and sugar are a whole different story. And I already had the rosé at the house.”

“Fair enough.”

Heather brought the plate of pastries over to the coffee table, placing them next to her new journal, and she and Marion settled in with their drinks. Heather would never have gotten through the holiday without her. As she sipped her deliciously festive latte, she couldn’t deny how much hope her friend had brought to her life. So much so that Marion had her believing that maybe things could get better.

She could start by continuing the life she’d begun—for Toby. If he were here, what would he want for Christmas this year? Without a future with him, his potential answer was hard to know. What did she want? The truth was, she wanted a little of Toby to show up, and that was probably the issue. She had a new life to live. She also wanted to be happy—something she couldn’t be without him.

Her gaze fell on the journal. Maybe she could use it to document this new life—the wins and losses. She’d make it a love letter to Toby, writing to him about what she was going through. She might find a slip of light in her darkness to hold onto, and maybe, if she was lucky, a stroke of Christmas magic.

Chapter Three

“How many movies did we end up watching last night?” Heather asked, running her fingers through her hair as she sat next to Marion on the sofa.

The skin between Marion’s brows wrinkled. “I lost track by glass four.”

Yesterday afternoon had begun with card games and long talks. Even though the snow hadn’t impacted the roads, Marion had decided to stay. By dinner, they’d ordered a pizza. Then the wine was opened and their movie marathon began.

Now, the half-empty pizza box sat next to the remnants of stale pastries and cloudy glasses on the distressed iron coffee table Toby had picked out for its substantial size and organic feel. Heather had usually softened it with fresh flowers, but over the last year, she hadn’t bothered.

She yawned and got up to peer out the window at the skyline. A thin blanket of white surrounded them, and the city had slowed to a quiet hum.

“This cold snap is a surprise,” she said.

The drop in temperatures had collided with the perfect storm to give them actual snow at the holidays, something Nashville hadn’t seen too often in Christmases past. While the total amount of snow wasn’t much to write home about, it was enough to put her in a festive mood. And she couldn’t help but think of Toby.

“Too bad the storm didn’t come in last year,” she said, wishing he could’ve seen it. “Toby loved Christmas.”

Marion gave her a sad smile.

Heather didn’t allow herself to think about how little he’d have appreciated the winter scene at that stage of his illness. But it would’ve been nice to roll his bed to the window, even if only for a few minutes.

The phone rang. Heather disregarded it.