Page 29 of Pine Creek Lodge
“Change of plans,” Nat said, pouring herself a glass of wine from the bottle on the table. She needed something to numb the stinging pang of jealousy still lingering. She took a sip of her wine. The unfamiliar burn of jealousy in her chest surprised her – she'd never been the jealous type before. When friends had talked about their struggles with jealousy in relationships, she'd always found it hard to relate. She'd listen sympathetically, of course, but secretly wonder why they couldn't just let things go, move on, focus on themselves.
Now she understood. The image of Sofia and Carla together at the lodge kept flashing through her mind like an unwelcome slideshow. Each imagined scene – them talking, reconciling, even kissing – sent fresh waves of that poisonous feeling through her veins. She hated it. Hated how it made her stomach churn, how it clouded her thoughts, how it threatened to ruin what should have been a lovely Christmas Eve with her family.
"Earth to Nat," Zoe's voice cut through her brooding. Her sister was still cradling Moxie, who had fallen asleep in her arms. "You're totally zoning out. I was asking what Sofia is up to tonight. Or Miss Fancy Pants as Dad calls her."
"Zoe, please put the kitten down while we eat," their mother interrupted, setting down a basket of freshly baked rolls. "We don't want any cat hair in the food."
"But Mom, she's sleeping!" Zoe protested, though she carefully placed Moxie on the couch. The kitten stretched, yawned, and promptly curled back into a tight ball.
They gathered around the table, the familiar ritual of passing dishes and filling plates providing a welcome distraction. Her mother had outdone herself as usual. The table was laden with holiday dishes that filled the room with mouthwatering aromas. In the center sat a golden-brown roast turkey, perfectly crispy on the outside and surrounded by roasted root vegetables – carrots, parsnips, and potatoes that had cooked in the savory drippings.
A boat of rich turkey gravy sat ready to be poured over everything. Green bean casserole, topped with crispy fried onions, sat next to a dish of creamy mashed potatoes whipped to perfection with butter and a touch of sour cream. Her mother had also prepared her famous cranberry sauce – not the canned variety, but homemade with fresh cranberries, orange zest, and just the right balance of tart and sweet.
The freshly baked rolls her mother had just set down were still warm, and her mother had even made Nat's favorite – scalloped corn with a crispy breadcrumb topping, though tonight she suspected the comfort food might stick in her throat.
“Thank you, Mom. This looks amazing,” she said, forcing another smile. “It’s so nice to have the night off.”
"You don’t look like you’re having the best night," Zoe said, helping herself to mashed potatoes. "Are you going to tell us what really happened with Sofia? Because something definitely happened."
"Zoe," their mother warned, "let your sister be."
But Zoe, with all the persistence of a sixteen-year-old who'd never learned to filter her thoughts, pressed on. "Come on, it's obvious. Nat's been acting weird. She slept there again last night, which is unheard of for chalet staff and now Sofia mysteriouslycancels at the last minute. Apparently, there were onions being chopped somewhere but I don’t buy it."
Nat helped herself to turkey, avoiding her sister's keen gaze. She wasn’t hungry anymore but she wanted her mother to know she was grateful. "It's complicated," she muttered.
"Ha!" Zoe exclaimed triumphantly. "I knew it! Did you guys hook up?"
"Zoe!" Their mother gasped, nearly dropping the gravy boat. "That's enough!"
Their father cleared his throat uncomfortably, suddenly very interested in buttering his roll. But Nat could feel all their eyes on her, waiting, and the weight of keeping everything bottled up felt too heavy.
"Fine," she sighed, setting down her fork. "Maybe something did happen between us. And maybe it was amazing and wonderful and completely stupid of me because she's a guest and I'm the help and now her ex-girlfriend showed up out of nowhere and they're probably getting back together as we speak."
The words tumbled out in a rush, and as soon as they were free, Nat felt both lighter and more vulnerable. She reached for her wine glass, taking another long sip to steady herself. “Her ex even asked me to make her a coffee. It was so humiliating.”
"Oh, honey," her mother said, reaching across the table to squeeze her hand. "Why didn't you tell us?"
"Because I'm not supposed to get involved with guests," Nat replied. "It's literally rule number one. And because it wasn't supposed to mean anything. We were just..." she trailed off.
"But it did mean something," Zoe said, her voice much softer now.
Nat nodded, feeling tears prick at the corners of her eyes. "Yeah," she whispered. "I think it did. At least for me."
Chapter Twenty-Two
Nat helped her mother clear the table, mechanically stacking plates and gathering silverware. The familiar clink of dishes felt hollow tonight, like everything else. She'd barely touched her food, pushing it around her plate while her family tried their best to distract her with stories and jokes. Their efforts, though well-meaning, only made her feel worse, more aware of the gnawing ache in her chest.
The kitchen was warm and fragrant with the lingering scents of Christmas dinner, but Nat barely noticed. Her mind kept drifting back to Pine Creek Lodge, imagining what might be happening there now. The image of Sofia and Carla together haunted her, playing out in vivid detail: them sitting by the fireplace she'd carefully tended, sharing the wine she'd chosen, perhaps even sleeping in the bed where just last night...
She shook her head, trying to dispel the thought. Her mother caught the movement, pausing in her methodical wiping of the counter to give her a concerned look.
"Do you want to talk about it?" she asked sweetly, reaching for another dish.
Nat managed a weak smile. "Not really," she said, though her voice caught slightly. "I just... I feel so stupid."
"You're not stupid, honey. Sometimes these things just happen. We can't control who we fall for."
"Fall for?" Nat almost laughed, but it came out more like a choke. "I barely know her. And anyway, you should have seen her ex." She started wrapping leftover turkey in foil, perhaps with more force than necessary. "Carla's gorgeous, successful, filthy rich from the looks of it. They have history together. Six years to be precise. What was I thinking?"
