Drive The Cold Winter Away by Natalie London

Chapter 1

Prologue

All hail to the days that merit more praise

Than all the rest of the year,

And welcome the nights that double delights,

As well for the poor as the peer!

Good fortune attend each merry man’s friend,

That doth but the best that he may be,

Forgetting all wrongs, with carols and songs,

To drive the cold winter away.

English Trad.

Chapter One

Jennifer Westbrook came in from shoveling the sidewalk in front of her rental duplex. After a day-long snowfall, the temperature had dropped to just above zero and a chilling wind blew from the west stinging her cheeks. She slammed the door, stomped the snow from her boots, pulled the gloves from her numb hands, and wiped the wet snow from her parka before hanging it in the front hall closet. She removed the knit cap and shook out her long blond hair. Just another winter day in Wisconsin.

Jennifer picked up her iPhone from the kitchen table. One recent and a voicemail. “Hi Jen, it’s Doreen. I have news about Ellen and Mary. Call me.”

Ellen, who had played in the orchestra with Doreen and Jennifer, had moved to Florida with her partner, Mary, five months ago to be near Mary’s mother. What had happened? Was one of them ill? Had they broken up?

Jennifer went to the living room, sat down, and returned Doreen’s call. “Hi, I was outside shoveling. What’s up?”

“Ellen and Mary are coming here to Milwaukee for Christmas.”

“Oh, I thought something was wrong.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have phrased it that way. You know Mary’s mother passed away two months ago so they don’t want to spend Christmas in Florida.”

Jennifer remembered Doreen contacting everyone about the death. She had sent Mary a sympathy card.

Doreen continued talking. “Well, we thought let’s get away from here and go somewhere for Christmas. I found this great resort up north, not that far, they have rooms available, and we can get a good rate. Christmas isn’t that popular. New Years is the big time. It’s called the Northern Lights Resort. Check it out on the Internet. You can come right? No plans for Christmas?”

“I haven’t decided yet.” It looked like another Christmas alone, except for Christmas Eve with a few friends for pizza and beer at one of their homes.

“I thought we’d go on the twenty-fourth and come back the twenty-sixth. Mary and Ellen will stay with a friend of Mary’s for a few days and then go back to Florida.”

“Who’s coming to this resort event?” Besides the orchestra, Ellen had played in a woodwind quintet with Doreen and Jennifer, but there had been some bad feelings between two other members of the quintet and Ellen when she criticized their playing. Not to their face, but behind their backs. Would they go?

“I’ve contacted six so far and they’re coming. This resort has everything, a pool, restaurant, and bar. Lots to do. Ice skating, cross-country skiing, and snowshoeing. They have skis, skates, snowshoes, and all that stuff for people staying there. I’ll email the details. Jen, I have to go now, my quilting club is meeting in an hour. The roads are plowed so we’re not canceling. I have to make the reservations in a week. Let me know.”

Jennifer put her phone aside and sat looking out the window at the snowy landscape. Doreen was an organizer. Always arranging lunch dates and, at the restaurant, pushing tables together and dragging over more chairs. She called the   retirement communities and arranged concerts for their woodwind quintet. One week their schedule had them playing at the Holiday Craft Fair, and the next week at an upscale retirement community. All arranged by Doreen.

Doreen, who lived happily with her partner, Jody, and their three cats, wanted the same for Jennifer. “You’re an attractive woman, Jen. I know a couple of women I can introduce you to. Have you over to watch a Packers game or something.” So far Jennifer managed to avoid these attempts to hook her up with someone.

Did Jennifer really want to spend almost three days with the group? Going out for a drink after an orchestra rehearsal or lunch after a woodwind quintet performance was one thing, but thrown together for all that time with nothing in common except music was something else. What if there was trouble or even a fight with Ellen? Two of the quintet members hadn’t forgotten her criticism of their playing, and there was competition among others in the orchestra for principal chair or who would play the solos.

Jennifer hadn’t committed to going to the resort. She could always make up a story about spending the holiday with a distant cousin. She didn’t have a distant cousin. She didn’t have anybody. When Jennifer was two years old, her mother died in a car accident and her father, a successful orthopedic surgeon, brought her up as best he could with the help of a succession of housekeepers. He had died of a massive heart attack three years ago after a round of golf at his country club.

She put in a CD of Gounod’s Petite Symphonie and headed to the kitchen to make a toasted cheese sandwich with a slice of avocado, and a glass of wine. The decision about the trip could wait.