Four Nights to Forever
Jennifer Lohmann
Copyright © 2015 by Jennifer Lohmann
Kobo Edition
All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any print or electronic form without the author’s written permission.
First Printing May, 2015
Printed in the United States of America.
ISBN: 978-0-9963611-0-1
Edited by Danielle Poiesz at Double Vision Editorial
Cover design by Amber Shah at Book Beautiful
For more information please see
jenniferlohmann.com
.
Winning Ruby Heart
“Librarian and author Lohmann . . . has written a remarkable story of a heroine who refuses to let her past mistakes define her future. Lohmann’s realistically flawed characters and emotionally compelling plot will resonate with readers who cherish . . . groundbreaking contemporary romances . . .”
—
Booklist
“Edgy, steamy, and through provoking, this story of two driven, self-centered athletes who have a lot to work through is . . . a compelling and rewarding read.”
—
Library Journal
A Top Pick, Seal of Excellence Award Winner and 2014 Reviewers’ Choice Award Winner from
RT Book Reviews
The First Move
“My only wish is that the book had gone on longer. This was a great, unexpected read, and it’s on my short list for best category romance of 2013.”
—An All About Romance Desert Island Keeper
“There are so many intricate pieces to this story, all of them sharp and some of them painful, but well worth reading.”
—Smart Bitches Trashy Books
“There are moments of brilliance and heartbreak that just damn near ripped my heart out.”
—The Misadventures of Super Librarian
Reservations for Two
“Lively dialogue, relatable characters and exquisite descriptions of Polish sausage and pierogies make this a scrumptious tale.”
—
RT Book Reviews
2013 Best First Book in the National Readers’ Choice Awards
A Promise for the Baby
“This introspective, character-driven story is rich with family and American Polish culture.”
—
Library Journal
Weekends in Carolina
“
Weekends in Carolina
includes complex characters and an inside look at small farming that many readers will find fascinating.”
—
RT Book Reviews
To all the people who passed through Iron Blossom Room 418, Week 10.
Because time spent skiing with family and friends is some of the best time there is.
‡
“V
an’s all packed, except that last box,” one of the movers said. The other must be out at the van and both of them were probably wondering what was taking Cassie so long to put a stupid teapot in a box so they could be done with the job.
Cassie Sumner looked at the white teapot with
VOTES FOR WOMEN
written in blue on its side. She’d bought the teapot on a romantic trip with Tom to Newport, Rhode Island. And as soon as she wrapped the teapot in the last of the bubble wrap and packed it in the Seagram’s Gin liquor box, the moving man would take it from her and she’d have no reason to stay in this house any longer.
She’d wanted the entire tea set the moment she’d seen it, but Tom had told her they had better things to spend their money on. The set hadn’t been expensive, but she’d liked the clean lines and simple white and blue pattern. And it would have been a sentimental reminder of their trip, one she’d use and could hold onto. But he’d been adamant, so she’d purchased the teapot separately and been happy enough with it. Looking back, she could see that the argument over the tea set was one quarrel in a long line of Tom not caring about what she’d wanted, even when it was only a stupid teapot.
A car pulled into the driveway, and garbled voices carried through the open front door. Her friend Karen was here to pick her up for a little birthday getaway—skiing in Utah—and she’d brought Sam, Cassie’s twenty-year-old daughter. Sam would be using Cassie’s car while she stayed with her dad and his girlfriend for spring break in exchange for supervising the moving men as they unloaded all the boxes in Cassie’s new apartment. When Cassie returned from Utah, her teapot would be waiting for her and Tom wouldn’t be.
For the first time in over a year that thought didn’t bring tears to her eyes. To her surprise, she didn’t even feel a pang in her heart, only a passing sense of something missing but not
missed
.
“Just that last box,” the man nudged, his voice gentle. “Then we’ll get you all moved.”
Did the moving company train the young men how to properly handle forty-year-old divorcées and their delicate emotions? People had been tiptoeing around her for too long. She was leaving that fragile creature behind in this house. Without memories to feed it, surely the specter would wither and die.
All the more reason to hurry up.
“Of course,” she said. She reached for the bubble wrap, tucking extra protection around the handle and the spout before putting the teapot into the box and grabbing the tape.
“Mom!” Sam’s voice floated into the room. “Are you done? I’m going out tonight, and I want time to get ready.”
Cassie looked up as her daughter entered. Sam had Tom’s height and slenderness and Cassie’s light coloring. She was wearing jeans, a light-green cable knit sweater, and a blue down vest and looked like a girl in a J. Crew catalog, fresh and young and ready to take on the world. What did she need to do to get ready? Her daughter was beautiful and perfect.
But Cassie had been young for a split second once, too, so she only said, “This last box, and then I’m done,” keeping her voice bright. Sam had seen her cry too many times in the past year. Not that there were tears welling up in Cassie’s eyes, but she wanted to make extra sure Sam didn’t hear sadness where there wasn’t any.
The packing tape bit on the jagged edge of the roller but didn’t cut until Cassie yanked. Then the tape gave way, jolting her backward. “That’s it,” she said to the moving man. He seemed to hear her but blinked a few times before he looked away from Sam and reached for the box.
“Can I have your keys?” Sam asked.
“In my purse,” Cassie said from her position on the floor. Sam bounced over to where Cassie’s purse leaned against the wall and dug out the car keys. Then she bounced out the front door, the moving man—aka her new admirer—following in a bit of a daze.
Cassie watched him take the liquor box away. It had its own legacy, much like the teapot inside. Tom had brought several like it home one day—and many more boxes over the next several weeks—saying, “I think it’s time we cleaned out the stuff we don’t use.” She’d dutifully packed up books she didn’t read anymore, clothes she couldn’t fit into or didn’t wear, and discarded crafting supplies. She hadn’t noticed that he hadn’t packed any of his stuff until the one day she’d come home from yoga and he’d packed
everything he owned
and she’d realized that “the stuff we don’t use” included their marriage.
She’d spent the year after pulling her life apart, searching for the moment before the liquor boxes arrived at her house to point to and say,
There it is! There is the moment when I should have known my marriage was over
.
But all she could point to were those stupid liquor boxes. And she was sick to death of digging deeper. She scrambled to her feet. The moving van was packed, and there was no reason for her to sit on the floor and mourn the past. She was sick to death of doing that, too.
A cold, wet March wind blew over the front lawn and in through the open front door to where she stood, watching the movers close the door and climb into the cab to drive her life away. Or as
away
as an apartment in Framingham was. Even now, after the divorce, Cassie wasn’t leaving Massachusetts. She’d always wanted to, but she wouldn’t, not while Sam was still in college.
Cassie looked out at her daughter as she sat in the driver’s seat of Cassie’s Honda, probably changing all the presets on her radio, while she talked to Karen. She took a deep breath and picked up her two suitcases. They were heavy—she’d probably overpacked—but she fumbled them out the door on her own, then turned and locked the front door of her house for the last time. Sam was taking the house keys to Tom, who would finish off the sale, and then they’d be done with it forever.
Maybe she should have stayed around to help, but a trip skiing out west with Karen had sounded better.
Treat yourself,
her closest friend had said.
It’s your birthday.
When the timing had worked out so that Cassie would be packing up the house right before they left on the trip, though, she’d tried to back out. Karen wouldn’t have it.
Let Tom do it
, she’d said.
The only thing he’s done to make the divorce he
wanted
happen was move out. Think of yourself for a change.
Or
—Karen had this impish grin she plastered on her face when she argued something both obnoxious and irrefutable, and it had come out then—
think of me, skiing all by my lonesome.
Which, even now, was enough for Cassie to cling to when she was feeling guilty about leaving everything in Sam’s and Tom’s hands. She dragged herself and her suitcases down the front walk toward her friend and daughter.
“Mom,” Sam said, hopping out of the Honda and clapping. “House keys, and then I’m off.”
“Give me a hug first. I’m going to miss you.” Cassie opened her arms for her daughter, who looked both irritated and pleased as she sauntered over for an embrace. “Won’t you miss me?” Sam was too tall to kiss on the top of the head anymore—plus, she wouldn’t like it—so Cassie kissed her cheek.
“Of course,” her daughter said with the blitheness of youth. She pulled out of Cassie’s arms, jingling the car keys. “But you’ll be too busy flirting with hot ski patrolmen to think of me.”
“Just wait—” She shook her head.
“Until I have a child. I know,” Sam interrupted. “Can I go now?” She practically twitched with excitement. She really was all grown up.
Sometimes Cassie wondered what would have happened if she’d been able to have more children, but the older Sam got, the less room those thoughts took up in Cassie’s heart.
“One more kiss.” They smacked lips to cheeks, and then Sam bounded off to the Honda as Cassie yelled after her, “Obey your father!” like she was ten. Sam only waved in acknowledgment as she backed the car out of the driveway and sped off.
“She’s right you know,” Karen said, picking up one of Cassie’s suitcases and loading it into the back of her SUV. “We’re going to have so much fun that you won’t even worry about her.”
“I’ll always worry about her.” Cassie hefted the second suitcase into the trunk. She really had overpacked.
“No.” Karen slammed the door on the luggage, the forcefulness of the movement and her words startling Cassie. “You’re going to have a fling with—” Karen cocked her head and tapped her fingers against her chin as she thought “—a divorced businessman who is skiing with his buddies. He’ll be about forty-five, I think, with laugh lines at the corners of his eyes and nice long fingers.”