Snowed In (15 page)

“The way Nathalie was hawking the tickets for tonight’s thing—”

“Victorian Walk.”

“—well, we’re bound to see a lot of guys for you to look over. And Shaun is a great judge of character.”

Yeah, that was what I wanted: for Shaun of the Dead to select my boyfriend for me.

Thirty minutes later, Tara and I were standing in the back room of the photography studio, staring in a mirror at our Victorian getups. Her dress was a deep blue, mine a lilac. They had bustles and trains, flounces and lace. We were wearing gloves that wouldn’t keep our hands warm on a cool day.

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“I feel like one of the heroines in those books my mom reads,” Tara said.

“And
you
read,” I reminded her.

“Well, yeah,” Tara said.

“Hats, hats, hats,” Nathalie said, breaking into our discussion, “you’ve got to have hats.” She’d been waiting at the shop, like a toddler anxious to unwrap a present.

“I just love period costumes,” she said now, lifting from the shelf a wide-brimmed hat with a dark purple satin bow on the crown. She set it on my head, angled it one way, then the other.

“There. What do you think?”

It was a little big and I had to lift it to really see.

Tara snorted. I giggled. “I don’t know. I’m not really a hat person.”

Unless it was a Texas Rangers baseball cap.

“Who is, these days?” Nathalie asked. “But this is the Victorian era. Women wouldn’t be caught dead going out without a hat. Guys, either.” I turned and looked at her. “You mean the guys are going to be wearing hats?”

“Oh, yeah. They’ll be wearing top hats, bowlers. People really go all out for this event.

Well, actually, we go all out for everything. It’s what makes living on the island so much fun. Our enthusiasm.”

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“I can’t see Shaun wearing a hat unless it’s a knit cap pulled down over his ears,” Tara said.

“My boyfriend can convince him, trust me,” Nathalie said.

I expected Tara to give me a secret smile.

Instead, she said, “You do realize your boyfriend has a name, right?”

“Well, duh? Yes! What kind of question is that?”

“Just checking.”

“We need to find you a hat,” Nathalie said and went back over to the wall to find one.

I adjusted the one I was wearing. “I don’t know. How crowded will it be tonight? I’m afraid I’ll run into people if I’m wearing this.”

“It is kinda wide,” Tara admitted.

“I guess it’s okay for walking outdoors, but walking through a house or in a ballroom . . . I just don’t know.”

Nathalie came back over and tugged my hat back into place. “It’ll be fine. Trust me on this.”

She perched a much smaller hat on Tara’s head and declared, “Perfect!”

It was actually more of a bonnet. Narrow, with feathers circling the crown and brim.

“Maybe something smaller like that would be 183

better for me,” I said.

“Smaller won’t go with your dress,” Nathalie said.

“Are there going to be costume police at this thing?” I asked.

Nathalie laughed lightly. “Of course not, but you don’t want people thinking you don’t know the first thing about accessorizing. After all, the society section of the newspaper will have a write-up describing who wore what.”

“Who would care?” Tara asked.

“It’s just the way it was done back then. We really get into the time period,” Nathalie explained.

“Okay, then, I think I can make this work,” I said, tilting the hat back up.

Nathalie tapped it back down.

“It really cuts down on my visibility,” I said.

“You’ll get used to it,” Nathalie assured me.

“Let’s find you some button-up shoes.” She not only found us shoes that didn’t pinch our toes too badly, but she also found us velvet, fur-lined capes.

The photographer took photos of Tara and me before we removed our costumes. He promised the pictures would be ready before the end of the day so Tara could take her copy back to Texas with her.

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I was having way too much fun with Tara here.

I didn’t want to think about her leaving. And I was afraid it was going to be difficult, lonely even, when she went home.

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16

In the end, Nathalie’s boyfriend didn’t talk Shaun into wearing a top hat or a bowler. He wore exactly what Tara had predicted: a knit cap pulled down over his ears. He wore jeans, boots, a sweatshirt, and a heavy down jacket. Not exactly Victorian attire, but Tara was convinced Nathalie had exaggerated about everyone’s enthusiasm for wearing costumes.

“I suspect it’s only the women who really dress up,” she said.

Although I wasn’t sure if people were even going to be able to tell that we were dressed up. I loved the fur-lined cape, but it was a lot colder at night than during the day. Tara and I had just got to the end of the walkway—hadn’t even gone through the gate yet—when we turned around and went back inside to get our heavy coats.

Yes, that meant we were clearly identifiable as 186

nonislanders, but we both decided that was better than being human ice pops.

Of course, Shaun didn’t care what Tara wore.

She could have been in Eskimo attire and he would have been fine with it.

Mom was going on the tour as well, with some women she’d met when she joined The Ladies’ Tea Group. Apparently they liked to get together once a week to sample assorted teas and exchange sandwich recipes. I had to admit that it had been a long time since I’d seen Mom this relaxed and happy.

Moving was definitely paying off.

Tara, Shaun, and I walked through the shopping area of town. Most of the houses designated for the Victorian Walk were along a curving hill that would eventually lead back to the hotel where the dance was being held—at least, that was how it appeared on the map we’d been given at the base of the hill. The path was clearly marked with strings of white Christmas lights. The houses we were allowed to enter had a sign in front of them announcing:

Victorian Walk Tour

Donations Accepted at the Door

All Proceeds to Benefit the Historical Preservation Society 187

Nathalie had forgotten to mention that the tickets were for getting into the dance only. To take a tour through one of the cottages, we were encouraged to make a donation at the door. Since Tara and I didn’t have purses to match our costumes—we certainly didn’t want an unfavorable review in the society section—we didn’t have any money on us, so it fell to Shaun to dig out his wallet and drop a donation into the bowl for us. He didn’t seem to mind, but then with him it was hard to tell.

The first cottage was totally awesome. Nearly every room had a fireplace and they all had a fire going. The rooms were huge, which was good because a lot of people were walking through and I was wearing that stupid hat. Not only was my visibility limited, but I was much wider than normal.

After bumping into a couple of people, I took off the hat and just hoped I wouldn’t run into Nathalie.

When we went through the kitchen, we were given a plastic cup of hot apple cider and a brownie. That seemed to be the standard policy for each house: some sort of hot apple cider (cinna-mon, raspberry, red hots) and a dessert (cookie, lemon bar, cupcake, brownie). Some rooms had a rope in the doorway so you could only peer inside, 188

but most allowed you to walk through.

I’ve never been big into touring homes. Mom and Dad used to go to a Parade of Homes, but those were new houses built for the megawealthy, valued at millions. Dream homes for most people.

I’d gone once but hadn’t been really interested after that.

But I had to admit that touring these older homes was more interesting. I tried to imagine all the different people who had lived here during the past hundred or so years. They may have even owned some of the knickknacks sitting on the shelves.

And we discovered that Nathalie hadn’t exaggerated. Most people were dressed in period costumes—even the men. Top hats and walking canes and everything.

After we toured the fourth house and were walking along the path, Shaun said, “I’ve got enough money for one more house.” Tara wrapped her arm around his and snuggled up against him. “That’s cool. I’ve pretty much seen all I need to see. Seen one house, seen them all.” I wasn’t sure if she was trying to make Shaun feel better because he hadn’t brought more money, or if she really hadn’t liked walking through the houses.

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“I thought they were cool,” I admitted, feeling kinda geeky because I’d enjoyed looking around a lot more than I’d expected. I was already looking forward to next year. And who knew? Maybe Mom and I would put our place on the tour.

“Thanks, Shaun, for making the donations, so we could walk through them.”

“You really thought they were interesting?” Tara asked.

“Well, yeah.” Maybe I’d been browsing through too many of Mom’s Victorian books. I knew the architecture, the furniture. Maybe an appreciation of this stuff just came from living on the island.

“Then you pick the last house we go through,” Shaun said.

I shook my head. “I don’t want you to spend all your money on the tour. I’ll pay you back when we get home.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve kept some money in reserve.”

“Shaun is great with money,” Tara said. “He budgets an exact amount for different things and he sticks to it. Me, I spend until it’s all gone. That’s my budget plan.”

“Which isn’t really a budget or a plan,” Shaun said.

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I wondered if Shaun would end up being an accountant.

“Okay, so pick a house,” Tara said, clearly not wanting to get into her spending habits.

“We’ll stop if I see something that looks really amazing,” I said.

We rounded the curve in the road, and I spotted it. A huge cottage with a wraparound porch.

Turrets were situated on either side. I wanted to walk through it; I really did. I didn’t want Shaun spending more money on us, but if I didn’t take a tour now, it would be another year before I’d have a chance.

“Uh-oh,” Tara said. “Ash is salivating.”

“I am not,” I protested. “Okay, I am. I haven’t walked to this side of the island yet. I didn’t know this was here.”

“It is pretty awesome looking,” Shaun said.

“It reminds me of one of those places in those horror movies you watch—only this one isn’t falling down,” Tara said. “So you want to go take a peek?”

“A peek costs as much as a tour,” I said.

“Okay, so let’s do the tour. Then we’ll head to the hotel for some real fun,” Tara said.

People were strolling down the walkway as we strode up. It was silly for me to be this excited 191

about touring the house. We stepped through the open doorway—

“Oh, you finally made it,” Nathalie said. Before I could respond, she added, “This is my boyfriend’s house. Isn’t it amazing? I’m serving as hostess. I do every year. And you’re not wearing your hat.” She snatched it out of my hands and plopped it on my head. I expected her to flash her costume police badge.

“And what is with the coat?” she asked.

“It’s like negative a thousand degrees out there,” I explained.

“People are going to mistake you for a fudgie,” Nathalie said.

“What’s wrong with that?” Tara asked. “We both love fudge.”

Tara had obviously forgotten what I’d told her about fudgies. Or maybe she just liked to tease Nathalie.

Nathalie rolled her eyes, obviously too disgusted with both of us to explain. She pointed to her left. “The kitchen is that way. Go warm up with some cider so you can take off your coats.” Edging past her, I walked to the dining room and waited for Tara and Shaun to catch up.

“Okay, her not calling her boyfriend by name was funny last night, but it’s really starting to 192

get on my nerves,” Tara said when she caught up to me.

“I don’t think she calls anyone by name.” Guilt over kissing said boyfriend was making me feel a need to defend Nathalie.

“But it’s one of those things that if it’s true, you don’t have to keep shoving it in people’s faces,” Tara said.

“I don’t think she realizes she’s shoving anything.” I glanced around. “Isn’t this place great?”

“Yeah, great,” Tara said with as much enthusiasm as Shaun might exhibit. “Let’s go get some cider, boyfriend.”

Shaun laughed, a deep chortle. I was not only surprised by the sound, but surprised that he’d caught on to Tara’s dig at Nathalie.

“Welcome,” Mr. Wynter said as we walked into the kitchen. He was holding a delicate china plate adorned with fudge—no doubt from Sweet Temptations. The plate, though, looked odd in his large, beefy hands. “Help yourself to some fudge.

Cider’s over there.”

Josh was over there too, standing beside an island. With a ladle, he was dipping cider out of a crock pot and pouring it into the typical plastic cups.

“Hey,” he said, handing each of us a cup.

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“Hey,” I said back while Tara and Shaun simply nodded. “I can’t believe you and your dad live in such a . . . well, I mean, it’s not a typical bachelor pad.”

“Most of it’s my grandma’s doing. And my great-grandma’s. Dad inherited the place after my grandparents passed. We’re third-generation islanders. Keeping the place up is what got Dad into carpentry.”

“From what I’ve seen so far, it’s awesome.”

“Want a personal tour?”

His question seemed perfectly legit. One friend showing another friend his house.

“Sure.” I looked at Tara and Shaun. “Is that okay with y’all?”

“Actually, my toes are killing me. Shaun and I are going to sit over here and rest for a bit. You go ahead.”

I hadn’t expected to be walking through the house alone with Josh, but several people were wandering around, so it wasn’t like we’d be really alone. And it wasn’t like he’d do anything—like try to kiss me again—with Nathalie standing in the doorway greeting people.

I looked at Josh and grinned the widest grin ever. “Sure, I’d love a personal tour.” 194

“Great. Let me get Dad to keep an eye on the cider.”

He walked over to his dad, said something quietly. I figured he didn’t want to start giving everyone personal tours so he was keeping things hush-hush. Then he came back over to me and smiled. “Let’s go.”