15

Robyn

Robyn pressed the button on the fancy machine that was Erik’s pride and joy. While the machine purred and coffee dripped into cups, she foamed the milk. Of all the many aspects of Sweden and Swedish culture that she appreciated, top of her list was the tradition of fika, and not only because she was a lover of coffee and cake. Fika was about so much more than a caffeine-and-sugar boost. It was social. It was about connecting. For Robyn, it was an opportunity to catch up with friends or better acquaint herself with the guests. It was a chance to slow down. Here, taking a break wasn’t something to apologize for, but something that was actively encouraged. There was an appreciation of the importance and richness of human relationships that had been missing from her past life, and in time she’d discovered that there was little that improved the mood like good company.

Today her company was her niece, and she could hardly believe that she was right here in the kitchen. It felt awkward. Uncomfortable.

It would have been good to take the time getting to know each other a little better before diving into the deep, serious stuff, but Robyn knew it wasn’t something they could ignore. They had to deal with what lay behind them before they could move forward and hopefully build a relationship.

“That smells delicious.” Christy leaned on the counter next to her. She’d arrived at the lodge ten minutes earlier, beating the new snowfall by a matter of minutes. Stepping from cold to warm had turned her cheeks pink, and although she’d removed her gloves, she kept rubbing her fingers to warm them. “Seb prefers tea, but sometimes I think I wouldn’t make it through the day without strong coffee.”

Robyn could feel her anxiety and sympathized. She was nervous, too. Afraid of the outcome and of doing something that might threaten the chance of finally reconnecting with family. But also nervous for Christy. Whatever happened, Robyn knew she would survive. But what if she told Christy too much? What if she said something that upset her? Elizabeth was gone. Nothing was going to change that. She didn’t want to do or say a single thing that would hurt her niece.

Through the windows of her kitchen she could see the snow falling, a gentle drift of flakes that clouded the air and blurred the edges of the trees. The forest became a mysterious icy world stretching far beyond their field of vision.

“Does Holly keep you awake?” She waited for the last of the coffee to drip into the cups and then removed them and put them on the counter.

“She used to. Not so much now. Now it’s life that keeps me awake.”

Which parts of life? Was she supposed to ask?

Was Christy missing talking to her mother?

Conscious that they had yet to establish a relationship, Robyn decided to focus on the immediate priority. She added milk to the coffee, manipulating the thick foam to form a perfect heart on the surface.

“Did you sleep last night?”

“Oh yes. The bed! It was like sleeping in a cloud.”

Robyn smiled and added a sprinkle of cocoa to the surface of the milk. “I should add that review to our website. When we built those cabins, comfortable beds were my priority.”

“I want to hear all about it. The cabin is gorgeous. This whole place is special. You have a flair for interior design. And your photographs are stunning.” Christy was chattering, barely breathing between sentences.

It was hard to tell which of them was the most nervous.

“I’m glad you like it.” She put both cups on the table and opened the oven, releasing a puff of warm air scented with cinnamon. She removed the tray of pastries and put them to cool. “Sit down. Make yourself at home.”

“Your kitchen is cozy.” Christy reached for the coffee closest to her. She was wearing black ski pants and a heavy knit sweater the color of whipped cream. She’d tugged off her boots at the door, revealing the warm Nordic socks which Robyn had left as a gift in her cabin.

Having not seen family for so long it was hard to keep her emotions reined in. She wanted to study Christy in detail, to fill in all the gaps in her knowledge. Who are you? What do you love? What do you hate? What scares you? It was a struggle to behave normally. “What are Seb and Holly doing?”

“They’re in the cabin warming up. We built the biggest snowman this morning.”

The conversation was stilted and awkward. They were talking about one thing while both thinking about another.

Robyn decided it was up to her.

She added a few pastries to a plate, and Christy closed her eyes and breathed.

“Cinnamon and cardamom.”

“Yes. Kanelbullar. Cinnamon buns.” Robyn put the plate on the table. “I’ll teach you how to make them, if you like. And Holly, too. That is, if she’ll sit still long enough to bake. She’s a busy one, that’s for sure.”

Christy laughed. “You obviously know my daughter well even after such a short acquaintance.” She helped herself to a bun, broke off a piece and waited for it to cool before popping it into her mouth. “Incredible.”

“Cinnamon buns are the reason I decided to settle in Sweden.” Robyn took a sip of coffee and smiled. “I’m kidding, obviously. Erik had a lot to do with that decision. And the place itself, of course.” Oh this was ridiculous. She put her cup down. “This is awkward, isn’t it? I’m afraid of saying something that will upset you and you… Well, you must have a million questions. Things you don’t know and would like to?”

Christy was silent for a moment. “I don’t know where to start. Why don’t you tell me everything you feel comfortable telling me? I’d like to hear your story.”

“What do you know already?”

“Not much. My mother didn’t…” She pulled a face, and Robyn nodded.

“She didn’t want to talk about me.” It didn’t surprise her. What surprised her was that it still hurt a little, even after so long. “Don’t feel embarrassed. I don’t blame her. Things happened between us. Bad things. I made life difficult and chaotic, and Elizabeth couldn’t deal with chaos. Her way of dealing with difficult things was to ignore them. The worse the chaos, the more she blocked it out.” Was she being unfair? Was there really ever a chance that they could have come back from what had happened?

“That’s true.” Christy pulled off another piece of cinnamon bun, but this time she didn’t eat it. “When I was growing up she was always organized. She liked order and routine, but that didn’t seem like a bad thing. Life was busy, so being organized seemed a sensible way to live. Sometimes difficult to deal with, but not abnormal. We were never late anywhere, and we never missed anything. Dinner was always at the same time. Everything was predictable and stable. When my father died, it went into overdrive.”

Robyn listened, hungry for information. It was fascinating to hear about her sister from someone else. “What happened?”

“It was a terrible time, obviously, but she got so much worse. Everything was more concentrated and intense, and she would never talk about things. Anytime I was upset, or tried to talk about how we were both feeling, she’d say that the way to get through this was to keep busy, so we’d end up baking bread or scrubbing out cupboards. Sometimes at ridiculous hours of the night or morning. It’s only recently that I figured out it was a coping mechanism. I have a tendency to do it, too, although I’m working on that.” Christy gave a rueful smile. “Still, I’m a brilliant baker, so that’s one good thing that came out of it. Was she like that as a child?”

“That’s when it started.” How much to say? This had to be one of the hardest conversations she’d ever had, and she’d had a few. “What do you know about your grandparents?”

“Not much.” Christy nibbled a piece of pastry. “They died before I was born. I’ve seen a few photos, but that’s it.”

Oh Elizabeth.

Robyn stared at the pattern on top of her coffee and reminded herself that everyone handled the past in different ways. “Your mother didn’t tell you anything about our childhood?”

“Not really. I know your father had a printing business. I know your parents were divorced.” Christy studied her. “From the look on your face, there’s plenty more she should have told me.”

Robyn felt a moment of doubt. If Elizabeth hadn’t told her daughter the truth, then was it Robyn’s place to do so?

“Robyn.” Christy leaned forward. “When it comes to difficult conversations, I’m a work in progress. I’m the first to admit I haven’t had much practice at tackling the difficult stuff. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned lately, it’s that avoidance isn’t a good strategy. So please tell me anything and everything, and I’ll handle it.”

Robyn pushed the cup away from her. “Our mother was an alcoholic.”

“Oh.” Christy sat back, surprised. “That I did not know.”

And yet it was such a big part of Elizabeth’s childhood, and a big part of who she became.

“We didn’t know it, either, at first. To us she was simply our mother. We knew her moods were unpredictable. One minute she’d be laughing and dragging us on elaborate picnics, and the next she’d be moody and angry. She could be one person in the morning, and a different person entirely by the time we came home from school in the afternoon. It was disorientating. Dad was working hard at the time, so she was the one at home, responsible for taking care of us. Except that she didn’t.” Robyn paused. “My earliest memory is of Elizabeth making me toast. I was four, and she was seven. She basically took care of me because our mother didn’t. It’s fair to say that she raised me.”

“She never said.” Christy sat still, cake and coffee forgotten. “She never once mentioned that. Why wouldn’t she?”

“It was difficult for her.” Robyn trod carefully. This was Christy’s mother they were talking about. “Our childhood wasn’t something she wanted to revisit once she’d left it behind.”

Christy picked up a spoon and poked at the foam on her coffee. “What about my grandfather? Where was he in all this?”

“My father knew some of it, although not all because he worked long hours and wasn’t in the house to see it. He knew that she drank. They fought about it all the time. The shouting was terrible. When they started, Elizabeth used to drag me from the room and turn up the volume on the TV so I couldn’t hear what was being said. But I still heard some of it.” Robyn picked up her coffee. Even now the memory of it made her cold. She curved her hands around the cup, taking comfort from the warmth seeping into her fingers.

“Oh Robyn, that must have been so tough.”

Christy’s warmth made it easier to continue the story.

“It was bad for me, but it was much worse for Elizabeth. She used to go through the house trying to find the alcohol. Our mother stashed it everywhere, but Elizabeth found it and poured it away. The more chaotic our home life was, the more Elizabeth tried to organize and control it. We were often late for school because our mother was usually asleep in the morning and waking her up was difficult. When she did wake up on time, Elizabeth often hid the car keys because she didn’t want her driving us drunk. We usually ended up walking to school, even though we were far too young to be doing that. Elizabeth was grimly determined to bring order to our lives.”

Christy listened carefully. “She never told me any of this.”

“She wanted to block it out. She didn’t want to remember it, because what was the point?”

“But you were close.” Christy sounded distressed. “There was a time when you were close. I had no idea.”

Robyn put her cup down. “We were inseparable. Despite everything, I have plenty of happy memories from my childhood, but all of them have Elizabeth in them. Birthdays. Christmas. All of them would have been terrible if it hadn’t been for Elizabeth. She managed to create a world within a world. She kept the bad stuff at bay.” Robyn thought of the photos she’d tucked away in a box and hadn’t looked at for years. Maybe she should dig them out. Christy might like to see them.

“So if you were close, what happened to change that?”

“Elizabeth left home. She went to college.”

“And you were left alone.”

“Yes. And I was so mad at her.” Robyn was embarrassed to admit it. “Wrong of me, I know, but I felt abandoned. It coincided with a bad time for me at school, and I had no constant in my life. Without Elizabeth creating order from the chaos, there was no order. I couldn’t do what she did. Looking back on it, I think I was missing her so much that I was grieving. But at the time I didn’t see that. I felt angry the whole time.” It had taken her years to forgive herself for that.

“It must have been terrible for you.” Christy reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You were a child. You lost the one person who made you feel safe. And every child deserves to feel safe.”

“But that wasn’t Elizabeth’s job, of course. I’ve often wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t done so well covering up our situation. If she hadn’t fed us and got us to school on time. If she hadn’t helped me with homework and made sure I went to bed at a reasonable hour. She made it possible for us to stay as a family, even though it was a dysfunctional one. If she hadn’t done that, social services would have been involved. And maybe that would have been better. Or worse. Who knows.” She’d often wondered about it, before she’d learned that it was best to accept the past rather than imagine alternative scenarios. What did that achieve?

“You think she enabled your mother?”

“I suppose we all did that, including my father. But in the end the responsibility was our mother’s. We tried to persuade her to get help, but she wouldn’t. I’m fine, she’d say. Perfectly fine.” Thinking back to that time made her restless, and Robyn stood up and walked to the window. There was something clean and pure about the landscape that always calmed her. Later she’d go out with her camera. She’d capture the fresh fall of snow, and the subtle changes to the world around her.

“That must have been hard for everyone, but particularly for you. You were still a child.”

“Without Elizabeth there, I had to deal with the full force of our mother’s moods. The only predictable element was that it was unpredictable. Everything was a drama. Our mother went from calm to screaming with no warning, and when she was angry she broke things. It was frightening and confusing, and somehow it felt as if everything was my fault. I was going through a teenage phase, so I screamed back at her. The house was a war zone. And that was when Dad walked out.” She heard the scrape of the chair on the floor and felt the touch of Christy’s hand on her arm.

“I didn’t know any of this.”

“My mother blamed me for Dad leaving. She pointed out that he hadn’t left in all the years before, so it couldn’t possibly be her that was the cause. It had to be me.”

“And you believed her,” Christy murmured, “despite the fact she was so obviously wrong. That was cruel. A terrible thing to say to a child.”

Robyn stared out the window. “I had such low self-esteem, I couldn’t see a different answer. One day instead of pouring away our mother’s secret supply of alcohol as we’d always done, I drank it. And then I did it again and again.”

“Oh Robyn—”

“And then Elizabeth came home for a visit. She saw it right away, of course. She’d spent eighteen years living with an alcoholic so there was no missing it. She was appalled. It made no sense to her, but of course none of it ever did make sense. She tried to help me, but I wasn’t ready to be helped. She could have been mad with me, but instead she seemed…disappointed. Which was much worse. I felt as if I’d let her down. I couldn’t handle what I was feeling, so I drank more.” She’d thought she’d come to terms with it long before. She’d thought she’d processed all those emotions and found an element of peace, but reliving it now brought with it a wash of shame. “Elizabeth could have gone back to college and forgotten about me. She could have focused on her own life, but she didn’t do that. She came home more often. She tried to persuade me to get help. I suppose being away from home and mixing more freely with other people had given her some clarity. She’d begun to live a normal life, but she was running the risk of being sucked back into the old one. She tried to persuade our mother to get help, too. She kept talking about addiction, but I didn’t feel like an addict. I was someone who was doing what needed to be done to get through the day. I thought I was having a good time and she was a killjoy. I was partying nonstop. I flunked all my exams. Anything I was supposed to not do, I did it. Drugs, men. I was a mess.”

Christy gave a faint smile. “Robyn the rebel.”

“Yes.” It was strange hearing that, because she was nothing like that person now. “And then Elizabeth got married. She was twenty-one. I think the reason she got married so young was because she wanted to create her own stable family. She saw it as a way out. By then I was doing a series of jobs. I was often late and unreliable, so they didn’t last long. But she didn’t give up on me. Not then.” Her heart was beating a little faster, and she realized that even now, so many years later, she could still feel something of the emotion she’d felt back then. It was uncomfortable, but she’d learned to deal with those feelings rather than trying to block them out. “And then our mother died. Elizabeth and I saw each other at the funeral. She was pregnant.”

“And your father?”

“He was trying to rebuild his life. He didn’t want to meet up or get involved.” Robyn paused. “I was too much like her, I guess. Or that’s what he thought. Elizabeth thought it, too. And I think she blamed herself for leaving me, but it wasn’t her fault. It was complicated, as life so often is.”

They were standing side by side, looking at the snow through the window.

“I don’t understand,” Christy said. “I don’t understand why she suddenly cut you out of our lives after always being there for you and supporting you through so much. And she wouldn’t talk about it. She wouldn’t have your name mentioned. Why did she take such a drastic decision? Do you know?”

Oh yes, she knew.

Robyn took a deep breath. “Because I almost killed you.”

Christy stared at her. “Me? You almost killed me? But—” she frowned “—I don’t remember ever meeting you.”

“You don’t remember, but we have met, Christy. In fact, we met several times. After you were born, I turned up at the house. I wanted to see you. And Elizabeth made me welcome. Fed me good food and gave me a warm bed, always hoping, I suppose, that she might be able to tempt me to abandon my lifestyle for another one. But she had these rigid routines. After a few hours I felt stifled there. Everything had to be done just right, at exactly the right time. It was the way she’d handled chaos, of course, but I didn’t understand that so clearly at that time. I was young and self-centered. I was offended that she wouldn’t let me through the door without checking me for alcohol.” Robyn paused. “We had a few strained visits where I showed up drunk, and she tried to help me. But I didn’t want help. It was tense, but still we muddled along.”

“Until?”

“Until the kitten incident.”

“The kitten incident?”

“It was a week before Christmas. I was working at a cat-rescue center. I’d only had the job for two weeks. There was a litter of kittens they were trying to rehome. They were gorgeous. I brought one home to you as a gift.”

“A kitten? I can’t imagine… My mother never would have pets. She was too house-proud. But that’s not enough to explain a major falling-out, surely?” Christy paused. “What happened?”

Robyn wrapped her arms around herself. “You weren’t well. You had croup. Some respiratory virus. I don’t know. While Elizabeth was in the kitchen fetching you a drink, I gave you the kitten. You couldn’t stop hugging it. Then your mother came back into the room, saw the kitten and freaked out.” Robyn could hear Elizabeth’s voice in her head. What have you done this time? How could you? “She said it was typical of me. Impulsive. Irresponsible. And she was right, of course. And by then the rescue center was calling me because the kitten was missing, and someone had suggested asking me about it.” It was hard to even remember the person she’d been back then. Hard to figure out what she’d been thinking. Why she’d made the decisions she’d made. “Elizabeth told me to take the kitten right back. You wouldn’t let it go.”

“But how did—”

“You had some sort of allergic reaction. An asthma attack or something. You basically had your nose in that kitten’s fur, and I didn’t stop you because I thought it was great that you liked my gift so much. It made me feel good, and not much back then made me feel good. But then you started wheezing and struggling to breathe, and then you turned this horrible color, sort of blue…” She closed her eyes, still able to see it in her mind. “It was awful. Lots of my memories of that time have vanished, but not that one. Elizabeth called the emergency services. They rushed you to hospital. I wanted to go in the ambulance, too. I wanted to know you were okay, but it was the final straw for Elizabeth. She blamed me, and she was right to. It was my fault.”

“But you didn’t mean for it to happen.” Christy’s voice was soft. “You made a kind gesture that had an unfortunate outcome. You couldn’t have predicted that.”

“Maybe not, but that didn’t matter. The last time I saw Elizabeth was by that ambulance. She was terrified. And she told me that was it. That she never wanted to see me again. She screamed at me. It was the only time in my life I ever saw her lose control, and it was because of you, of course. She loved you so much. You were her fresh start. Her new, perfect family.”

“I—I remember shouting. It’s one of my earliest memories, but I’ve never been able to figure out what it was related to.”

“You remember? I hoped you wouldn’t.” Robyn felt a wave of guilt. “I took the kitten back and was fired, obviously, but I didn’t even care. I thought I’d killed you, and that was the only thing that mattered. It was the lowest point of my life.”

“Oh Robyn.” Christy kept her hand on her aunt’s arm. “How did you find out I was okay? Did my mother call you?”

“No. We never spoke again.” Robyn felt that familiar ache behind her ribs. “I went to the hospital where they’d taken you, and a nurse in the emergency department told me you were stable and that you’d been taken to the ward. They wouldn’t give me any more information, but that was enough. I knew you were alive. And that was the moment when everything changed. I was so relieved, it felt like a second chance. And I knew that even if I never saw you again, I was going to turn my life around. And I did. I took a long, hard look at myself and decided I didn’t like who I’d become.” She turned and saw tears on Christy’s cheeks. “I’ve upset you. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Don’t worry about that.” Christy mopped her cheeks with the heel of her hand. “Ignore me. It’s such a heartbreaking story. I can’t bear that you never talked again. It seems like such a waste, when the two of you were once so close.”

“I wrote her a card every year at first. I wanted so badly for her to know I’d changed. I wanted her to forgive me.” She’d wanted to do something to erase the anger and disappointment from her sister’s face. “But she never responded, and I wasn’t about to show up without her permission. And then I had that letter from you telling me she’d died.”

“I found the address buried among her things when I cleared the house out. She kept those cards you sent.”

“I wonder why.” Robyn liked to think that occasionally her sister had thought of her. She had to, surely, to have kept the cards? “I didn’t come to the funeral. It didn’t feel like the right time to be reacquainted.”

“I wasn’t in a good place.” Christy finished her second coffee. “I’d had so many huge changes in my life. Getting pregnant, being a mother. I’d barely adjusted to the rhythm of my life when she died. For a while I handled things the way she did. I kept busy. Created a routine. Didn’t think too much.”

“It must have been hard for you, after she died. But you had Seb and Holly, of course. And Alix. I like Alix. You’re lucky to have a friend like her.” Robyn saw something flicker across Christy’s face.

“Yes, I am.” Christy stared out of the window for a moment, lost in thought.

“Christy? Is everything all right?”

“Oh…yes.” Christy smiled. “I’m fine. Just…thinking. Everything you’ve told me, it’s so much to take in. I’m sorry now that I didn’t get in touch with you years ago. And I’m sorry you and my mother didn’t manage to mend the relationship.”

“For a long time I thought about nothing else. I beat myself up for not trying to get my life together sooner. For making bad decisions. For not somehow finding a way forward with my sister. I lay awake at night wanting to somehow turn the clock back.” She’d forgiven herself, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t still feel the ache of regret. “I suppose any relationship can snap if it’s stretched far enough.”

“What did you do? How did you not slide backward again, particularly as you were under so much pressure?”

“I joined a group. Not something I ever saw myself doing, to be honest. But they were brilliant. One of them was a photographer. He talked about it with such enthusiasm I joined a class. It was another turning point for me.” And she still remembered that moment. The rush of exhilaration when she’d discovered what she could create through that lens. How she could present the world in small, carefully curated chunks that made people pay attention. “Photography was absorbing. It took concentration. I stopped thinking about myself and wallowing in if onlys and thought about what I was photographing. And I was good at it. I’d never been good at anything before. I worked three jobs to get the money I needed, and that time I managed not to get fired. I bought myself a camera and a backpack, and I started traveling. To begin with it was a way of avoiding the temptation to show up at your door, but then it became a lifestyle. I went everywhere. I worked in bars, waited on tables, made beds in hotels. Anything to keep myself moving. I never stayed in one place for long. I suppose I was trying to put distance between myself and the past. I was trying to prove I didn’t need all that. That I could survive without the drink and the chaos.” She opened a drawer and handed Christy a tissue. “I didn’t mean to make you cry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have told you so much.”

“No.” Christy blew her nose. “I’m glad you did. I want to understand. And your story is…inspiring.”

“Inspiring?”

“Yes. To have pulled yourself out of that dark place while you were swallowed up by guilt and missing your sister—” She sniffed. “That shows determination and strength. And bravery.”

Robyn felt warmth spread through her. “I confess I never saw myself as particularly brave.”

“I think you’re an inspiration,” Christy said. “How did you meet Erik? And how did you end up here?”

“I spent a month in Stockholm. Fell in love with the people. Traveled north and fell in love with the country. I wanted to photograph the aurora, the northern lights. I arrived in Abisko and checked into a hotel. I booked onto a trip to see the aurora. Erik was the guide.”

Christy smiled. “That’s romantic. And you took wonderful photos of the aurora?”

Robyn laughed. “No, they were terrible. Photographing the aurora isn’t anywhere near as easy as you might think. First time out, my camera battery froze. Second time, I almost froze. But it gave me something to aim for. I learned that up here, north of the Arctic Circle, a good photograph starts with what you wear. If you’re cold, you lose heart before you’ve had time to take the shot. And you need patience to get the best shots. Nature often makes you wait, and you don’t want to die of cold while you’re waiting. I studied. I worked. I bought a better camera. I practiced. Tried different things. Turned out people liked my photographs. I started selling them locally. Then a magazine did a feature on me. It grew from there. I fell in love with this place.”

“And you fell in love with Erik.”

“Yes.”

Christy sighed. “I wish my mother had known all this. I wish you’d tried to contact her again.”

“I did.” Robyn felt a twinge of regret. “I had an exhibition in London four years ago. I sent her an invitation. She never replied.”

“I didn’t know.” Christy settled herself back at the kitchen island. “I’m sorry there wasn’t a different outcome. It seems like such a waste, somehow. If only she’d talked to you.”

“If there was blame, then it was mine.” Robyn had long since come to terms with that, too. “She didn’t want to open that door again. She was worried about her family. About you. I’m sure she was a wonderful mother.”

“Yes.” Christy’s voice was thickened. “But she liked order and a plan. Every moment of every day was mapped out. She said she disliked chaos, but spontaneity and impulse fell into that bracket. She thought it made for a calmer, more fulfilling life, but really it was restricting. Stifling for those around her. She did it because she was afraid, of course. I see that clearly now.”

“Yes. And I made that fear worse.”

“She cut out everything that threatened her routine. That included you.”

“You’re right.” Robyn wished she’d been able to view it with such clarity all those years before.

“And I don’t think it was about you at all, really,” Christy said softly. “It was about her, and who she became, and I think that was forged long before your choices challenged her. She was frightened of anything unpredictable. And she was the same with me. When I told her I was pregnant…” Christy gave Robyn an embarrassed smile. “It wasn’t exactly planned. I’d only been seeing Seb for a few weeks when I found out.”

Robyn listened as Christy told her the story. About how she’d met Seb. About the freedom she’d suddenly felt. About how intoxicating it had felt to be spontaneous for once. And she understood it, because she’d felt all the same things. She didn’t enjoy chaos, but neither did she enjoy being caged by routine. She’d learned that freedom was neither of those things.

“Seb seems great, and Holly is adorable.”

“She’s mischievous. Bold. You’ve probably already discovered that. Do you want to see some photographs? I have some lovely ones of her with my mother.” Christy pulled out her phone and scrolled through. “Here.” She held the phone out, and Robyn sat down and took it.

There was Elizabeth, smiling into the camera as she held her granddaughter. Elizabeth with Holly and a birthday cake.

“She looks proud and happy.” Robyn felt a pang. “Would you send me these? I’d love to have them.”

“Of course.” Christy took the phone back. “I have others on my laptop at home. I’ll send them. I think my mother saw a lot of you in Holly.”

“That probably scared her to death.” Robyn refused to spend more time looking back. She’d done all that and moved on. She’d learned to let it go. “Now we have the future to think about. I’m glad that we’re in touch. When I saw your name in my in-box, it was a surprise. But a good one. I’ve thought about you often, of course.”

“I’m glad we’re in touch, too.” Christy stood up and cleared up the cups. “The funny thing is, I’ve always dreamed about Lapland. Alix and I used to plan our perfect Christmas, and it always involved snow and trees.”

“We must make sure you make the most of it.” Robyn wiped a cloth over the counter. She noticed that the snow had stopped. “Elizabeth was lucky to have a daughter like you. You’re a good listener. And you’re kind. Kindness is so underrated these days. Fortunately for me, you’re also brave.”

Christy shook her head. “I am anything but brave. I ignore things I don’t like. I hate confrontation. I used to live my life according to a list, although I recently abandoned that habit.”

“But you reached out to me,” Robyn said. “Despite knowing Elizabeth wouldn’t have wanted it, you reached out. That’s brave.”

“Is it? I hadn’t thought… Maybe it is.” Christy smiled. “And I’m pleased I did it, and not only because you make great coffee. You’ve made me think about a lot of things. Made me realize there are things I need to do and say.”

Robyn wondered what those things were, but decided it wasn’t her place to ask. Not now. Not yet. One day, maybe, she would have a close enough relationship with Christy for her to feel she could talk to her about anything. For now, she simply smiled and told the truth.

“I’m pleased, too.”

Christy. Her niece. Her sister’s daughter.

Life could be hard, she knew that, which was all the more reason to savor the moments of joy when they came. She wasn’t going to taint this shiny moment by looking back and imagining the view from the roads she’d never traveled.

She looked up and saw Seb trudging toward the lodge, Suka padding along next to him and Holly in his arms. “Looks like we have company.”

She’d done all the looking back she intended to do.

Now she was going to enjoy her newfound family.