Page 55 of Postmarked December

Marion squinted. “What does the book say on the front? All I can see is a blue-and-white cover.”

Heather immediately recognized it and drew Marion’s attention to the large sales poster. “It’s that one, isn’t it?”

An enormous mockup of the book was splashed on the front of the poster. The title read: Brace Yourself: Parenting Advice from an Ex-Bachelor.

Marion slapped her hand over her gaping mouth. “I’m not going to get my hopes up,” she said through her fingers, but the look on her face said otherwise.

As the snow fell outside, they finished their nibbles and carried their mugs to the bookshop, where Anthony had moved on to the magazines. Neither of them said anything to him, and he didn’t seem to know what they’d seen. Heather didn’t say anything because she wouldn’t want to pry, and she was willing to guess Marion didn’t want to air their private business. But Heather hoped the book could provide a springboard for discussion once they were by themselves.

After they all had a book that sounded good, they grabbed a group of upholstered chairs as soon as they opened up. With another drink of her sumptuous hot cocoa, Heather opened her book and settled in to the first chapter.

“I packed a couple of books for this trip that I haven’t read, but I’m going to have to get this one now,” she said after finishing the chapter.

Anthony closed a self-help book on building endurance. “Marion claims that if we have some kind of local emergency where we have no power for a week, she’ll need the extra book stock.”

Heather laughed and set the novel in her lap. “Good point.”

Marion nodded. “Thank you.”

“Except she has enough”—Anthony put up air quotes—“‘emergency books’ to last her for the next millennium.” He winked at her, and she blew him an air kiss.

“It’s the downside of marrying a librarian,” Heather said with a laugh.

They left their chairs and went up to the counter. Once they’d paid for their books and returned Heather’ and Marion’s empty mugs to the dish bin on the other side, the three of them stepped out into the winter cold and made their way down to the art gallery at the end of the road.

Inside, the walls were cluttered with watercolors and oil paintings. Sunsets, bears roaming in the woods, a covered bridge in a snowy landscape… The paintings were labeled with a short bio of each artist. Marion took Anthony’s hand as they walked through the space, reading and observing.

To give Marion and Anthony a moment, Heather went over to a painting that caught her eye—a boat in a storm. She stared at it until the colors gave way to brushstrokes, and then she focused in further and the textures emerged.

Marion joined her when Anthony went to inspect a sculpture.

“You know, if you get really close to these paintings, you just see roughness and smoothness,” Heather said. “But it isn’t until you pan out that you get the whole picture. Life is like that.”

“That’s deep.” Marion stepped up to a painting and squinted at it. “I see what you mean.”

What would Heather’s life be like at the end, when she could pan out? Would it be a storm like this painting or would it be sunshine? Either way, she was willing to bet it would be beautiful.

They walked around until they’d finished browsing all the art in the small space.

Marion checked her watch. “We have enough time to see the chapel all decorated for Christmas before it closes. Want to go?”

“I’d love to,” Heather said.

Marion beckoned Anthony. “Could you drive us to see a little church?”

“Sure. Stay here where it’s warm. I’ll swing around and pick you two up.” Anthony pulled his keys from his pocket and went to get his truck from down the block.

“Should I bring up the parenting book?” Marion said after he left.

Heather folded over the top of the paper bag with her book. “That’s totally your call.”

Marion blinked. “I mean, what was that? Is he thinking about having a baby?”

“You won’t know unless you ask him.”

“I’m afraid to,” Marion said, her shoulders slightly raised. “Because I’d rather think he’s reconsidering than to have him tell me no.”

Anthony pulled up. With a hopeful bob of her eyebrows, Marion opened the door and they went back into the falling snow. Anthony drove the few streets over and parallel parked. They still had to walk a bit up the hill to the white clapboard chapel, but Heather didn’t mind. With the snow, the holiday banners on light posts, and the Christmas lights, the little town had a storybook feel to it.