A Mistletoe Affair. Farrah Rochon

it on a relationship that was going nowhere. She wanted to find what Sandra and Janelle had both found.

       So why are you still dragging your feet?

      Setting down the shears, Vicki walked over to her laptop and flipped it open. Inhaling a fortifying breath, she logged on to the online-dating profile she’d created after she’d got home from Sandra’s wedding this past weekend. The message sitting in her inbox seemed to pulse with a life of its own. She’d read over it at least a dozen times since it had arrived, had attempted to hit Reply more than once. Yet there it sat, staring at her, goading her into donning the new, confident, vivacious mantle she was determined to wear.

      The new Vicki.

      Was she really going to take this step? As popular as online dating had become, Vicki could never bring herself to try it. She’d held steadfast to the romantic notion of meeting her Prince Charming the old-fashioned way. They were supposed to spot each other across a crowded room, fall madly in love, start a family and live happily ever after.

      Blah. Blah. Blah.

      The old-fashioned way hadn’t worked for her. The old-fashioned way had her still single, while her two best friends were now both married and living their happily ever afters. She was done waiting for things to happen the old-fashioned way.

      Especially after accepting the harsh reality that the one man she’d been waiting on—the one whom she’d carried a torch for so much longer than she would ever admit to anyone but her own foolish heart—would apparently never see her in that way.

      A dull ache settled in her chest, but Vicki quickly tamped down the gloominess before it could take hold.

      She was done pining for what would never be. It was time to move on.

      Ignoring what felt like a million butterflies flittering around in her stomach, Vicki replied to the date request from a handsome E.R. doctor who, according to his profile, was an attending physician at Tufts Medical Center in Boston. The moment she hit Send, a weight seemed to lift from her shoulders.

      There. That hadn’t been so bad. And it was yet another step on her journey to finding the new Vicki.

      Maybe she should give her new journey a name—something along the lines of The Reinvention of Vicki?

      She rolled her eyes as she closed the laptop.

      That was something the old Vicki would do. The new Vicki would not be so lame.

      The rumbling of a truck engine had her dashing toward the front door. All morning she’d been anticipating the arrival of the Christmas tree she’d ordered. It was the final piece required to transform the bottom floor of the Victorian into the picture-perfect New England seaside Christmas escape.

      Vicki stepped out onto the gabled front porch and stopped dead in her tracks.

      “What is this?” She pointed to the truck bed. “I ordered a twelve-foot Fraser fir. This tree isn’t even eight feet.”

      “This is what they gave me, lady,” the deliveryman replied in a thick Boston accent. He rounded the truck and pulled the tree out by its thin trunk.

      Vicki shut her eyes against the thumping that instantly started up at her temples. With a full slate of projects lined up, hassling over the tree farm’s obvious mistake was exactly what she did not need today.

      But she’d had her heart set on that Fraser fir. She’d purchased the most amazing hand-painted ornaments from a gift shop on Main Street, along with a crystal tree topper that would bring the entire ensemble together.

      Dammit, she’d paid for that Fraser fir, not this scraggly little pine that looked as if it was a reject from A Charlie Brown Christmas school play.

      The old Vicki would just accept the tree and move on. The new Vicki wasn’t standing for it.

      She stomped down the porch steps and blocked the deliveryman’s path. “Sir, would you please bring this...this thing,” she said, pointing to the tree, “back to the lot and return with the tree I ordered?”

      “Come on, lady. A tree is a tree.”

      Vicki folded her arms over her chest. “I want the tree I ordered,” she annunciated in a clipped tone.

      The man let out a grunt. He shoved the tree back onto the truck bed and mumbled something unintelligible under his breath.

      “Thank you,” Vicki said with a curt nod. She marched up the steps and walked inside, closing the door behind her. She fell back against it, covering her hand with her chest.

      “Holy crap,” she breathed. A grin curled up the corners of her lips. “I think I’m going to like the new Vicki.”

      * * *

      Vicki buried her chin deeper into her scarf as she braced herself against the brisk wind coming off the water. She could have taken her car, but with the Quarterdeck so close to Silk Sisters, it felt unnecessary, even in the misty, frigid weather. Besides, she could not fully appreciate the holiday decorations adorning the businesses on Main Street from behind the wheel of her car. Even the shops that were closed—now that the tourist season was over—were bedecked with festive lights.

      She entered the Quarterdeck and headed straight for the table she, Sandra and Janelle usually occupied.

      “Sorry I’m late,” Vicki said as she came upon them, planting a kiss on Janelle’s cheek. She hadn’t seen her at all today. “There was a mix-up with the Christmas tree. I’m convinced the driver took extralong delivering the correct one just to be difficult.”

      “That just means that you’ll have to play catch-up with me and Sandra,” Janelle said. She signaled a waiter, who was at their table in an instant.

      His pen poised over his notepad, he asked, “The usual?”

      “Yes,” Vicki automatically answered. Then she thought better of it. “Actually, no. I’ll have a vodka martini with two olives.”

      The waiter’s brow shot up. “Okay, then. Coming right up. I’ll have that fried calamari appetizer out in a minute, ladies.”

      Vicki looked across the table to find both Janelle and Sandra staring at her with their mouths open.

      “What?” she asked.

      Sandra put her hands up, her eyes wide with shock. “First the new hair and makeup, and now a vodka martini instead of a white-wine spritzer?” She slanted Janelle a questioning look. “Can you tell me what’s happening with our girl over here?”

      “I’m not sure, but I like it,” Janelle said.

      Even as she waved off their teasing, Vicki could feel a warm blush turning her cheeks red. She knew these changes were a shock to her friends. They were used to her being demure, staid.

      Dull.

      The fact that a simple change in her drink order could elicit that kind of reaction from them was as telling as anything.

      As they snacked on crisp calamari tossed in a sweet ginger sauce, Sandra filled Vicki and Janelle in on the plans for her and Isaiah’s belated honeymoon in Paris in a few months.

      “It just makes sense to wait. We’re both looking forward to several art exhibits, and I’ll have the chance to check out Fashion Week. Besides, we can do what we’re going to spend most of our honeymoon doing right here in Wintersage,” she said with a wicked grin. She batted her eyes and added, “Wink. Wink.”

      “Subtle,” Vicki said with a good-natured eye roll. She laughed, but deep down it was hard not to feel the tiniest bit jealous. Of the three of them, she was, by far, the romantic at heart. She was the one who had always believed in one true love, happily ever after, the whole nine yards. Yet she was the one who was perpetually single. Both Janelle and Sandra, cynics to the core, had found love. Where was the fairness in that?

      Vicki squelched a groan. When had she turned