Autumn Getaway (Seasons of Love) (2 page)

She glanced at her righted suitcase, then back up at the man beside her. “That sounded like a bomb went off, huh?” She smirked.

The handsome, sweaty stranger chuckled. “Yeah, kind of. Definitely grabbed my attention.” He held out his hand to her; in his wide palm was the tiny red car. “This was trying to make a break for it. I think it might belong to you?”

Lydia laughed. “Yes, it does, believe it or not. Thanks.” She took the car and tossed it into her bag, offering in way of explanation, “I always carry it in here for emergencies.”

“As you should. You never know when a Lightning McQueen car will come in handy.” His warm brown eyes seemed to twinkle as he teased her.

“Absolutely!” she joked back.
God, he's good looking.
And he'd known the name of the car. Her smile grew wider as she said, “Well, thanks for the assist. Very nice of you.”

“No problem, my pleasure.” He was staring at her, and seemed to hesitate for a second, as if he were going to say more. Instead, he just smiled again and said, “Well, have a good day.” As he strode away towards the grand, sweeping staircase that led to the upper floors, her eyes followed him.

“I have your reservation here, Ms. Powell,” the man behind the front desk said.

She snapped back to attention. “Oh, great. Thank you.”

The guest rooms were located on the second and third floors. Lydia had reserved a small single room for herself, located at the far end of the second floor, and she smiled with delight as she entered it. It was lovely, furnished and decorated with lavish sophistication in pleasing tones of cream, beige, and burgundy. A queen sized bed, covered in an ornate velvet duvet, was in the middle of the small room, and sunlight poured in from the window. She set her pocketbook down on the writing desk and went to the window to marvel at the scenery: acres of lush green grass, an abundance of colorful trees at autumn’s peak, the edge of tennis courts not too far off to the left. She noticed a dirt path that led into the thicket of trees; it made her think of the attractive, sweat-slicked man in the lobby, realizing he had probably enjoyed his morning jog there. Maybe, later in the day, she’d find where the trail began and go for a long walk herself.

Three days all to myself.

Lydia had repeated these words to herself many times over the past few weeks, as if they were a magical mantra. The very notion of alone time was unbelievable, frivolous, and so heady that it made her feel downright giddy. She had finally let the reality of it take hold as she’d propelled away from Long Island, driving a drop slower than usual so she could admire the stunning foliage that lined the highway.

The drive up had been wonderfully rejuvenating. Autumn was her favorite season, and she was far from disappointed as she made her way up I-95 and entered Connecticut. Vibrant colors greeted her everywhere she looked—deep reds, golden yellows, bright oranges—a grand assortment of hues to admire. She’d rolled her window down, letting the cool air rush in, and leaned over to turn up her music. Bluesy rock guitar licks filled her car with rollicking playfulness, making her smile. She felt deeply content, fulfilled in the way only a nature lover appreciating such fantastic scenery could be. What she caught sight of fed and nourished her soul. She savored the moments and enjoyed the ride, let herself be lost and immersed in it.

The sunlight was bright overhead; the sky was that piercing shade of blue only seen in the Northeast in October. Lydia was so glad that Melanie had chosen mid-October for her wedding; it gave Lydia a solid excuse to go away for a weekend, which she hadn’t done in forever, during what was her favorite time of year. She had Googled the website to check out the fancy estate where Melanie and Ryan were getting married, where the weekend long festivities would be held. For a second marriage, Melanie was throwing as much gusto into it as if it were her first.

The imposing entrance and driveway up through the main gate had been proof of what Lydia had seen on the website: the Wilkes Head Manor Hotel and Conference Center was majestic, lavishly beautiful… a lovely place to spend a weekend, attend a business meeting, get married, or do just about anything. Lined with tall oak and maple trees whose leaves were bright with glorious colors, she passed through a few acres of manicured emerald lawn until the driveway finally narrowed and curled around to a half-circle in front of the main entrance. Four huge white pillars guarded the doorway of an impressive, sprawling Georgian mansion. It reminded Lydia of the glorious mansions one could find in Newport, or the Gold Coast—areas that boasted scenic architectural treasures like this, reminiscent of a bygone era of elegance, high status, and glamour.

As she’d pulled her car up to the sweeping front staircase, Melanie’s words from their phone conversation earlier in the week echoed in her memory. “Listen to me,” Melanie had ordered. “Heed this command: you will allow yourself to enjoy the weekend. You will allow yourself to relax. You will allow yourself—gasp!—to have some
fun
. Do you understand me, Lyddie? You got that?”

“Yes, Bridezilla, I got that,” Lydia had laughed.

When Lydia had handed off her keys to the valet, she’d taken a deep calming breath and exhaled it forcefully. All she had to do was let go a little bit, just enough for Melanie’s commands to become a reality. All the right elements would certainly be in place: fall foliage in all its Northeastern glory, an elegant estate for a three-day weekend, the company of cherished friends, spectacular food and drink, a festive wedding—even a massage to kick it all off.

Melanie had scheduled hour-long massages for herself and Lydia for eleven-thirty Friday morning in the hotel’s impressive spa, knowing it might be the only opportunity for just the two of them to spend time together. Now Lydia checked her watch and sucked in her breath. It was already 11:15 a.m. She hoisted her suitcase up onto the bed and quickly unpacked her things, then grabbed her pocketbook and rushed out to meet Melanie.

Making it to the spa with four minutes to spare, Lydia turned when she heard a familiar voice say her name. A broad smile spread across her face. “Hey, Mel!”

“Yaaaay!” Melanie squealed happily, grabbing her former college roommate in a tight embrace. They hugged for a good ten seconds before letting go. “God, I missed you!”

“I missed you too,” Lydia said. She took in Melanie’s slender figure, porcelain skin, long blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, and light blue eyes sparkling with joy. She was glowing. “You look great! You haven’t aged a day, you harpy.”

“Neither have you,” Melanie insisted as she gave Lydia a quick onceover. “No one would ever think we’re thirty-seven, right?”

“Hey, I’m still thirty-six, I have until December, don’t rush me,” Lydia joked. “I’m hanging on to these last few weeks with claws until the next birthday hits.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Melanie laughed, linking her arm through Lydia’s. “Come on, let’s go get pampered.”

“Right behind you, sweetpea. Lead the way.”

They went into a quiet chamber where New Age music was playing softly through unseen speakers, and fluffy white bathrobes and slippers awaited them. Melanie and Lydia chatted about the weather outlook for the weekend as they undressed and got into their robes.

“I have to admit,” Lydia said, “I’m flattered that you made this time to spend with me. I’m sure there are many others clamoring for your attention today.”

“They can wait,” Melanie shrugged. “I haven’t seen you in too long already, and you were so sweet to come up early. And I thought you probably needed a massage. Relieve some of your stress.”

Lydia snorted and grinned, “And you think this alone will do it?”

“Hey, it’s a start,” Melanie said. She pulled the bathrobe sash tightly around her waist. “Shall we?”

Lydia opened the door to go back into the hallway; a young woman was waiting for them. “Just follow me, ladies.” She led them down the dimly lit hall to a room at the end.

Candlelight flooded the space where two massage tables stood side by side; many more lit candles were strewn across high shelves. Lydia couldn't quite identify the aroma floating around—perhaps lavender?—but it was soft and pleasing. The New Age music was playing quietly here too, and two male massage therapists were already waiting, one standing by each table.

“I asked for male therapists,” Melanie said to her friend. “I like to really be worked, and men’s hands are just stronger. Hope you’re okay with that.”

“It’s fine,” Lydia said. “Hey, I haven’t had a man’s hands on me in so long, I’ll take it without complaint.”

Melanie chuckled. “Lyddie, I’m glad to see you haven’t lost that dry wit of yours. But we need to really catch up. As in, you need to tell me what’s
really
been going on with you, not these fake cheery emails you’ve been sending me lately. What bullshit.”

“It hasn't been bullshit!” Lydia cried.

“Oh please. You think I don’t know you’ve been holding out on me because my wedding was coming, and you didn’t want to ‘bother’ me? I know you too well. Give it up.” She turned away to move towards the table on the right and smiled sweetly at her waiting massage therapist. “Face up first, I presume?”

“Yes,” he answered with a return smile.

Lydia and Melanie arranged themselves on their tables.

“I never know how to do this gracefully.” Lydia laughed, awkwardly pulling the top sheet over her body. “Is there such a thing?”

“She needs a
lot
of work,” Melanie cracked to the massage therapist who would be attending to Lydia. “Work some magic, please.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promised.

The soft, New Age music flowed gently through the speakers, the aromatic candles burned, and the women closed their eyes and took deep, cleansing breaths as they were instructed to do.

Lydia’s mind wandered. She wondered what her baby was doing right at that moment. She smiled as she thought of her son, but the smile faded as she remembered Andy’s expression when she put him in his father’s arms that morning: frowning, worried, like he understood she was going to be gone for a while and he didn’t like it. Before he could get upset, she had covered his sweet little face in kisses, assured him that she’d be back soon, and reminded him he would have fun being with his daddy for a sleepover weekend. Over Andy’s head, she had shot Matt a glance of warning.
He better have fun,
don’t make a liar out of me.
Be extra good to him
, she tried to message through her pointed gaze. As usual, Matt had simply looked away, avoiding her eyes, avoiding her.

Lydia softly winced at herself in reproach. She had to stop this. Matt was Andy’s father. He loved him and was capable of taking care of their son. He would find a way to communicate with their little boy. He may not do things the way she wanted them done, but she had to accept that, accept that it was alright, and live with it.

It was the way things would be for the rest of their lives, so she had been working on that a lot over the past year: on finding and feeling true acceptance. Acceptance of her failed marriage, acceptance of the fallout, acceptance of Matt’s shortcomings—and, more importantly, of her own. Acceptance of things she couldn’t control, acceptance of the tremendous changes in her life, in Andy’s life… but trying to find all that acceptance on a daily basis was draining. She often felt exhausted, mentally and physically, and was getting tired of being tired all the time. She was more than ready to relinquish that feeling for the next three days. Rest would be nice, solitude would be good, and escape even better. She was ready for a diversion, however temporary it was.

“So tell me about this weekend,” Lydia said to Melanie. Her rich voice was quiet and tranquil, and her eyes remained closed. “Give me a basic rundown of events.”

“Okay. First, I’ll backtrack a bit. Ryan and I came up together last night,” Melanie began as her masseuse started to work on her shoulders. “Ohhh my God, that feels good. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Where was I? Oh yeah. We had a really nice night here, just the two of us, since it was probably the last time we’ll be alone until our wedding night. We had a late dinner, we swam in the indoor pool at ten o’clock at night, it was great. This morning, we had breakfast in bed together, and then people started arriving. So far there’s you, my parents, a couple of relatives on both sides, and some of the Forresters. All you smart people, making a three-day weekend out of it. You’re lucky you could get off work.”

“I haven’t seen your parents in a million years. I can’t wait to see them again,” Lydia said, her voice growing softer as her massage therapist worked on the knots in her neck. She relished the sensation, then asked after a minute, “Who are the Forresters?”

“I think I told you about them once,” Melanie said. “One of Ryan’s best friends is Alec Forrester. He’s the best man at the wedding. Ryan’s mom and Alec’s mom grew up together, and
they
were lifelong best friends. They lived in the same town once they both got married, so they practically raised their families together; the Selbys consider the Forresters to be like family, and vice versa. They all still live in Evanston, right outside Chicago, where Ryan grew up. I don’t think Alec and his wife and kids are going to make it here ‘til close to dinnertime, but Alec’s younger brother and parents got here early this morning, even before you. Ryan and his parents are going to hang out with them, have brunch with them while I’m here with you.”

“Okay. Got it. So, will your guests just keep arriving over the course of the day today, and tomorrow?” Lydia asked.

“I guess so. But you know about tonight, right? You got that invitation?”

“The out-of-towners dinner? Yes. And of course I’ll be there, I told you that. But I had a question about it, actually,” Lydia said. She couldn't help but smirk. “You and Ryan live in Manhattan. I don’t think anyone coming for the wedding is actually
from
this town. So, technically, aren’t we
all
out-of-towners?”

Melanie laughed. “Sure, if you look at it that way. But most of the guests couldn’t make a three-day weekend out of it; they’re coming tomorrow, since the wedding isn’t until tomorrow evening. So we’re hosting dinner for whoever is here tonight. About forty people. It’ll be nice.”