Elin Hilderbrand - Winter Stroll

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re not getting back tonight,” Ava says.

“Probably not,” Scott says.

“What about tomorrow?” Ava asks. “You’ll be back in time for the baptism, right?” Her voice can now carry as much indignation as she wants. Scott may feel okay canceling on her, but he can’t ditch on baby Genevieve.

“I should be,” he says. “I think I should wait and see how it goes.”

Ava is silent.

“I’m so sorry, Ava. I don’t know how I got myself into this position.”

Ava knows-and it’s why she loves him. He’s a good person. He would never leave Roxanne, or anyone else, to face surgery scared and alone.

“It’s okay,” Ava says.

“It’s not okay,” Scott says. “I hate to let you down. I can assure you I do not want to be sitting here at Mass General when I could be lying in bed with you. And I’m even more upset about missing tonight. When I close my eyes, I can picture how gorgeous you’re going to look in that green dress.”

The green velvet with the slit up one leg, purchased on a weekend that Ava and Scott went to visit Margaret in Manhattan. It is a spectacular dress that she will wear with the diamond circle necklace Margaret bought her last Christmas, and a pair of black silk Louboutin heels, also a gift from Margaret.

Scott is going to miss it!

Briefly, Ava thinks of calling Nathaniel and asking him to go. Then that thought evaporates and is replaced by Ava wondering how she could ever be so wicked.

“It’s okay about tonight,” she says. “I understand.”

“Do you?” he says.

“Just try to get home first thing tomorrow,” she says. “The baptism is important.”

“I’ll do everything in my power, Ava, I promise,” Scott says. “I love you so much.”

“And I love you,” she says.

Drake is different. He is playful and relaxed and wholly focused on her. He hasn’t checked his email once that she’s noticed-but is this possible? Drake prides himself on being available any instant that he’s not actually in the operating room.

She says, “Have you checked in at the hospital?”

He kisses her under the ear and a delicious shiver runs through her. “Nope. Jim Hahn is covering for me.”

“You got Jim to cover for you on a weekend? ” Margaret asks. Jim Hahn, the only surgical colleague Drake completely trusts to cover his patients, also happens to be the father of five, and his weekends are sacred.

“I called in a favor,” Drake says. “I wanted to be here.”

“I just…” Margaret doesn’t quite know how to express her feelings. She had thought, when Drake so brusquely turned down her invitation, saying he had too much paperwork of all things, that he simply didn’t want to come. And as disappointed as Margaret was, she understood. Drake led a regimented life: the hospital, his patients, his colleagues. Margaret didn’t blame him for not wanting to dive into the Quinn family stew.

And yet here he is, telling her he wants to be here.

He kisses the tip of her nose. “I love you, Margaret.”

Her eyes widen and she again wishes for unflappable . Dr. Drake Carroll has just said the three words she was certain she would never hear come out of his mouth. She had been so certain that she had stopped hoping.

“You love me?” she says, making sure.

“I love you.”

“You just said it again.”

“Because it’s true. I love you. I got Jim to cover and I came here to surprise you because I love you, Margaret Quinn.”

She rolls onto her back and stares at the ceiling. The last first time a man told her he loved her she was twenty-three years old and it was Kelley Quinn.

Drake clears his throat. “Do you… love me? ”

“You know what?” Margaret says. “I believe I do.”

Now, not only is Drake different, Margaret is different. They are different together. They are in love, they’ve said it out loud, acknowledged it, owned it. And Margaret can’t believe it but it feels just as wonderful as it did the first time, with Kelley. Or maybe it feels better because this second time, at age sixty, it’s a gift. When Margaret was twenty-three living in a studio in the East Village and going to grad school at NYU, she had fully expected that love would come to her. She would get married and have children. But now, nearly forty years later, to get a second chance seems miraculous.

Love changes everything. Margaret and Drake lie in bed until almost noon, then Margaret takes a long, hot shower (during which time, she’s sure, Drake checks his email). They get dressed, Margaret puts on a hat and her Tom Ford sunglasses, and they head into town, hand in hand.

“Wow,” Drake says when they reach the top of Main Street. “Mob scene. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“I’ll keep my sunglasses on,” she says. “No one will recognize me unless I want them to.”

“Spoken with confidence,” Drake says.

They pop into a number of shops, all of them crowded-Stephanie’s gift shop, Mitchell’s Book Corner, Erica Wilson. All of the shops offer hot cider or cocoa, and some have hors d’oeuvres. At the Dane Gallery, there is a full-blown charcuterie platter laid out, and Drake digs in while Margaret ogles the handblown glass ornaments. She loves one that is a clear globe with a detailed toy soldier suspended inside. She says, “I love these ornaments, but I can never manage to put up a tree.”

“They make wonderful gifts,” the saleslady says.

Margaret turns to Drake. “Do you put up a tree?”

“What do you think?” he asks, popping a piece of prosciutto into his mouth.

“I think you’re lucky if you find time to open the three cards you receive,” she says.

“I get more than three,” Drake says. “Some years.”

“I could buy one for Darcy, but she’s too young to appreciate it. I could get one for Lee Kramer, but he’s Jewish. My kids have too much Christmas paraphernalia in their house as it is… except for Jennifer. And Jennifer has exquisite taste. Yes, I’ll get it for Jennifer.”

“Good idea,” Drake says. He smears a cracker with an obscene amount of pâté, and Margaret worries he’s going to ruin his lunch.

“Although, I’ve gotten a lot of gifts for Jennifer this year,” Margaret says. “I don’t want the other kids to resent her…”

A woman standing just behind Margaret says, “Excuse me, aren’t you Margaret Quinn, from the Today show?”

Margaret hangs the ornament back up where she found it. She has been recognized-sort of. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the Today show,” she says with a wink.

The woman, who is tall with a rather long nose, doesn’t get the joke. “It’s on every morning,” she says.

“Wonderful!” Margaret says. She pulls Drake away from the duck-and-apple sausage and leads him toward the door.

Margaret suggests stopping at Murray’s Liquors to get a bottle of champagne to chill and drink before they go out that night.

She says, “I’ll be in full Margaret-Quinn-of-the- Today -show mode this evening, so it’ll be nice to have a little quiet time first.”

Drake picks a couple of cigars out of the store’s humidor. “I’m going to see if Kelley wants to smoke one of these beauties with me later. Engage in some male bonding, celebrate the baptism of his granddaughter, that kind of thing.”

Margaret is starving, but the food tent in the parking lot of the Stop & Shop seems like too much chaos, and so Margaret leads Drake down a narrow cobblestone alley toward the Starlight Theatre & Cafe.

“Is this where we saw that Nantucket slideshow?” Drake asks.