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I squeezed Quinn tighter, remembering why I came back to Aspen Lake. It had absolutely nothing to do with her uncle.
Finally, the pastor said, “Amen.”
I jumped up so fast my elf hat almost fell off. “Amen. Hallelujah.”
Everyone stared at me, mouths agape, aghast at my behavior and attire.
It was just like old times.
This was going to be fun.
TRISTAN
“CAN YOU BELIEVE SHE WORE an elf costume?” Tristan’s mother complained under her breath as they stood beneath the awning, receiving mourners along with his sister-in-law and niece.
Tristan covertly gazed at Calista across the way, as far away from his family as she could get. His eyes immediately landed on her long, shapely legs nicely displayed in her tiny elf skirt. It would be a lie to say he hadn’t often thought how it felt to run his hands up and down those legs. He clenched his fists, knowing he had no right to think such thoughts after what he’d said to her the day he’d made the worst mistake of his life.
Calista was speaking to her godmother, Dr. Deidra Zane, the chief medical officer for Aspen Lake General Hospital. Deidra held a large umbrella to protect them from the snow that showed no signs of letting up. Tristan was aware Calista claimed to hate the snow now, but he knew better. Just like he could absolutely believe she’d worn a pink elf costume to the funeral. He couldn’t help but smile about it.
“What are you smiling for?” his mother demanded to know.
Tristan diverted his focus back to his parents. They both stood emotionless near the casket that held his lying, cheating brother. As much as he currently had mixed feelings about his brother, he wondered how his parents could behave so callously, like this was just another social function for them. When people approached to offer condolences, his parents spoke more about business and vacations than they did their son. The favorite son, by Tristan’s estimation. It didn’t matter to them that Tristan had given up the woman he loved just to please them, or even that Jonathon was a less than ideal son. Tristan never measured up.
“Nothing,” Tristan sighed. The least he could do for Calista was to not bring up her name. He’d learned from experience that never went well.
His mother persisted. “Well, can you believe she wore that awful thing?”
“Yes,” he replied. Her uninhibited nature and her I-don’t-care-what-anyone-thinks-about-me attitude was just as attractive to him now as it used to be.
His mother clucked her tongue at his response.
Tristan didn’t care about his mother’s disdain at the moment. All he could think about was the first time he’d met Calista. She was fresh out of high school—barely legal. Jonathon had invited both her and Stella over to his parents’ house. He’d heard rumors about her and her wild ways. He wasn’t sure how wild she was—she was more like a Robin Hood who stole from the rich and gave to the poor. When the high school in town made it mandatory for all girls to wear formals to prom, Calista, in protest for those like herself who couldn’t afford expensive gowns, threw a party at the lake instead, bonfire included. Word got around and more kids ended up going to the party than prom. To say it irked the school administrators and prom committee was an understatement. But they couldn’t do anything—throwing a party the night of prom wasn’t against any rules, and she was a 4.0 student throughout high school, so there was no basis for a retaliatory academic punishment. Calista was an enigma to them.
She’d intrigued Tristan before he’d even met her, and she did not disappoint upon meeting. No one had ever dared to show up to his parents’ place in cutoffs and a halter top. He still remembered the first time he laid eyes on her. Her raw, sensual beauty screamed at him, and he did everything he could not to heed the call. But like a siren, she drew him in. It didn’t help when she jumped into their pool uninvited and came out of the water like she was posing for Sports Illustrated. The way she’d swung her long dark hair, the sun’s rays gracing her toned body as water dripped down her perfect figure, did him in. He’d almost jumped into the pool fully clothed just to be near her.
He asked her out that night, not caring that his friends would give him a hard time for dating a girl barely out of high school, or that his parents thought she was the devil incarnate. Not that it mattered. She’d said no. Her excuse was that he was too rich and pretty for her taste. But her smile said she really wanted to say yes. For her, he’d been willing to be patient. So that summer, before he went back to UCLA to finish his MBA, he found every reason to visit the Mexican dive restaurant she waitressed at in the evenings, and the pool she lifeguarded at during the day. His patience paid off. She eventually asked him out. It was the best first date he had ever had.
Calista had taken him on a midnight picnic, lakeside on the beach. On her side, as she called it—the best side. She’d brought a telescope her dad had made so they could gaze at the stars. But all he wanted to do was look at her. The wild woman whom he’d quietly observed giving her meager tips to friends who needed it more than she did. Or even random customers who were down on their luck. He’d met no one like her before or since.
Tristan still felt as if all he wanted to do was look at her. His eyes drifted back to Calista and Dr. Zane. The night he’d foolishly ended it all, she’d sworn she was going to move away from Aspen Lake and never look back, never look at him again. Until today, she’d lived up to that promise. Even when she came back each year to visit Quinn on her birthday, she refused to look at him or acknowledge he even existed. She’d even chatted with his ex-wife, Rachel, whom he’d recently learned had slept with his brother. It was Jonathon’s deathbed confession to him. What a prick. He knew Rachel had been unfaithful, but not with whom. Regardless, Calista’s silence had killed him more than his failed marriage.
He watched Calista as she smiled before hugging her godmother. Then she left the safety of the umbrella and tiptoed in her pink elf shoes through the snow, weaving in and out of the graves. Tristan’s heart lurched watching her walk away, reminding him of the last time he’d watched her go. A foolish impulse came over him, and, without a second thought, he followed her.
“Tristan, where are you going?” his father called after him.
Tristan paid him no attention. To be honest, he was weary of people mourning for his brother who had passed away too soon, for the tragedy it all was. The real tragedy was that Jonathon could have had it all with Stella and Quinn. But he felt like life cheated him somehow because he got Stella pregnant when he was twenty-two and became a father at twenty-three. Jonathon had no idea how lucky he was to have a wife and a daughter who adored him. What Tristan wouldn’t give for such a gift.
All he could think about now was that after thirteen years, Calista had finally looked at him. He wanted nothing more than for her to acknowledge his existence. Maybe if she acknowledged him, he could forgive himself for hurting her.
Calista headed toward the more rustic part of the cemetery where many of the older and smaller graves were. She walked past the large and ornate headstones she had always found ostentatious and claimed were a waste of money. Tristan knew exactly where she was going. It was a place he’d visited often with her, a place where he’d held her hand, wiped the tears off her cheek, and promised to always be there for her. He’d lied. Maybe he was no better than his brother. He’d never cheated on Calista with another woman, but he’d traded her for the lifestyle he’d grown accustomed to, the one she hated. Even now, as a doctor probably making at least three hundred grand a year, she drove a crappy old Honda. He couldn’t help but wonder if she only became a doctor to spite everyone in this town who thought she would never amount to anything. She’d probably believed all these years that he was one of those people. He had only himself to blame for that.
Tristan stayed far enough back that Calista didn’t notice she was being followed. He watched as she rubbed her arms, trying to stay warm. He’d offer her his coat, but he knew she would refuse. She would be furious to know he was following her. But for now, he enjoyed the view. It was like watching a sexy elf frolic through the snow.
She stopped to straighten out a few fake flower arrangements at random gravesites. “That’s better. Merry Christmas,” she would say to the dead each time, even though Thanksgiving was next week. But Calista had always loved Christmas, loved people.
She reverently approached her parents’ graves near a bare aspen tree. The same one where she’d carved her mom and dad’s initials into the white bark.
Tristan hid behind a nearby pine tree. When he thought it was safe, he peeked around it to watch her kneel in her white tights on the snowy ground.
