Page 4 of Snowed In on Valentine's Day

“Never,” I said with a smile.

Her eyes lit up as she looked at me again. “So, that New Year’s party was pretty wild after we left, eh?”

I groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’m a walking hangover. Everyone around for miles will know.”

She shook her head. “Nah, they’re all nursing their own headaches.” She put her finger on her chin in a thoughtful manner. “Does Shipsvold have a drinking problem?”

“Well, yeah, that and every other town in the upper Midwest.” I smiled wryly before my expression sobered. “But you know … uh, I think I’m done.”

“Done?” She raised her eyebrows, looking at my unfinished coffee. “With what?”

“Drinking.” I sighed. “I am getting too old for this. I don’t even like it that much anymore, honestly. It’s definitely not worth feeling like this.” I ran my finger over the rim of the cup. “I don’t drink that often anyway. I just … well, I’m thinking of making some life changes. Cutting out alcohol—or at least the heavy drinking—is one of the easier things.”

Mari’s eyes widened. “One of the easier … what other changes? Please, please don’t tell me you’re moving away.”

“Oh, hell no. The opposite actually. I want to stick around more. Sick of all the travel.”

Her jaw dropped several inches, and then she took a moment to form words. “You’re—but the travel … I mean, it’s your work. Your passion. Right?”

A flutter of something that felt, well, momentous rose within me. I took a deep, steadying breath. “Yes and no. My passion is helping people, convincing them they’re worthy of love from themselves and others, helping women to see what they bring to the world. But traveling all over for speaking engagements is only one way to do that.”

Her eyes were still wide. “Well, yes, that’s true. It’s just … I thought you were happy doing that. It was your dream.”

I pressed my lips together before letting out a long breath. “I’ve been happy-ish. But it was never my dream. I kind of got swept away from all the attention years ago when my blog took off. And I would’ve done anything to escape the legal profession at that point, if you remember.”

She nodded her head slowly. Of course she remembered, as I’d probably complained about being a lawyer every single day for the two years I practiced. Turns out I didn’t hate law itself; I just hated the law practice I was in. Still, I suspected the culture was similar in most other law practices. When Mariana ended up purchasing the resort after an unexpected inheritance from a generous foster mom, I realized giving legal advice wasn’t sobad. I was still good at it, and I could use that skill to help my best friend. Or family, I supposed. But Dad was the lawyer in the family, and even though he was retired and living in his native Japan now, everyone we knew still consulted him on everything, as though I didn’t exist. So, I’d failed to impress not only my father but also pretty much all of my family and friends of the family. Sigh. It was never good to walk down that memory lane.

Mariana looked thoughtful for a long moment. “That all makes sense. But I suppose I thought you loved what you were doing. You never said otherwise.”

I bit my lip. “You’re right, I didn’t. I wouldn’t even say that I dislike it. I enjoy public speaking.” I had to chuckle for a moment at Mariana’s expression. She, like most people I’d met, loathed public speaking. Not me. “The energy at these events is—well, you’ve seen it when you’ve hosted events at the resort. It’s phenomenal and maybe addicting. I think … maybe I don’t want to give it up entirely. I could do speaking engagements occasionally, especially if they’re at the resort.”

I drew in a deep breath. “And I need a break from the travel. I’m just over it.”

“But you love traveling. I thought that was one of the perks of the job.”

“For some people, yes.” I looked down at my hands as I continued quietly, “But not for me.”

Mariana was silent for a long time, and I finally looked up. In her eyes I saw understanding. Empathy. She nodded and offered a small smile. “Is that because you traveled so much as a child?”

“Yes, we traveled a lot, but we also moved around a lot. It’s—” I stopped, feeling a lump in my throat. I inhaled slowly. “And then they moved away. All of them, one by one, to different corners of the earth. Dad seems content back in Japan, but Mom and Halley? They can’t stay in one place for more than two yearsor so. I think … I’m different. I want to be different, that is. I like living in Shipsvold—staying in one place and putting down roots. You and now Pinecone … well, you’re family too now.”

My best friend nodded and squeezed my hand. “I feel the same. And it makes sense—you did buy a house. I mean, so did I. I’m sorry I was too distracted to realize what that meant for you.”

“Well, it meant a lot for you too.” I’d tried for years to convince her to buy or at least rent her own place. She’d been living in a large suite at the resort for as long as she’d owned it, and for a workaholic like Mari, it wasn’t great for her. She finally decided to move out just over a year ago, and then Terry put his tree farm up for sale and moved into her lovely Victorian home.

“It was a big step for me, yes.” The corners of her mouth turned down a bit. “Hazel, changing careers is a big deal. I mean, you know that. You’ve done it before. Can I ask … well, what will you do instead? Do you know?”

I chuckled before replying, “Of course you can ask. And I do know. I’m going to write more. And maybe even do one-on-one coaching or webinars, that sort of thing. It’s great to talk to large groups, but the impact of helping someone one-on-one is unmatched. And it’s just … it fits better with the quieter, more stable vibe I’m looking for right now.”

She nodded. “I understand that. You know I’m the definition of introverted,” she said with a slanted smile. “But you—”

“I know you’re about to say I’m an extrovert. But I’ve been thinking I’m more of an ambivert.” At her curious expression, I added, “Basically I fit somewhere in the middle of the scale—not an introvert but not an extrovert. If such a thing even exists. So, yeah, I want to do the same things and have the same goals but just in a different way.”

Her head bobbed up and down. “You know, it fits. Everyone always compares you to Brene Brown or Geneen Roth,and I think they might spend more time writing books than holding in-person events. You can make it work.” Her face morphed into a massive grin. “Wow, I’m so excited for you! This is huge.” But her smile faded. “Wretched timing though. I’m leaving for my honeymoon tonight, or else I’d demand that we celebrate!”

I laughed. While most people’s version of celebrating would mean a party or fancy dinner, Mari would probably invite approximately two people to her house for dinner and ice cream. And that was fine by me. I loved being around people, but I needed me time too. Right now, especially.

“While we’re on the topic of New Year’s goals, in addition to taking a break from alcohol and speaking tours, I have another resolution.”

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