Snowed In Read online

  “And you read,” I reminded her.

  “Well, yeah,” Tara said.

  “Hats, hats, hats,” Nathalie said, breaking into our discussion, “you’ve got to have hats.”

  She’d been waiting at the shop, like a toddler anxious to unwrap a present.

  “I just love period costumes,” she said now, lifting from the shelf a wide-brimmed hat with a dark purple satin bow on the crown. She set it on my head, angled it one way, then the other. “There. What do you think?”

  It was a little big and I had to lift it to really see. Tara snorted. I giggled. “I don’t know. I’m not really a hat person.”

  Unless it was a Texas Rangers baseball cap.

  “Who is, these days?” Nathalie asked. “But this is the Victorian era. Women wouldn’t be caught dead going out without a hat. Guys, either.”

  I turned and looked at her. “You mean the guys are going to be wearing hats?”

  “Oh, yeah. They’ll be wearing top hats, bowlers. People really go all out for this event. Well, actually, we go all out for everything. It’s what makes living on the island so much fun. Our enthusiasm.”

  “I can’t see Shaun wearing a hat unless it’s a knit cap pulled down over his ears,” Tara said.

  “My boyfriend can convince him, trust me,” Nathalie said.

  I expected Tara to give me a secret smile. Instead, she said, “You do realize your boyfriend has a name, right?”

  “Well, duh? Yes! What kind of question is that?”

  “Just checking.”

  “We need to find you a hat,” Nathalie said and went back over to the wall to find one.

  I adjusted the one I was wearing. “I don’t know. How crowded will it be tonight? I’m afraid I’ll run into people if I’m wearing this.”

  “It is kinda wide,” Tara admitted.

  “I guess it’s okay for walking outdoors, but walking through a house or in a ballroom…I just don’t know.”

  Nathalie came back over and tugged my hat back into place. “It’ll be fine. Trust me on this.”

  She perched a much smaller hat on Tara’s head and declared, “Perfect!”

  It was actually more of a bonnet. Narrow, with feathers circling the crown and brim.

  “Maybe something smaller like that would be better for me,” I said.

  “Smaller won’t go with your dress,” Nathalie said.

  “Are there going to be costume police at this thing?” I asked.

  Nathalie laughed lightly. “Of course not, but you don’t want people thinking you don’t know the first thing about accessorizing. After all, the society section of the newspaper will have a write-up describing who wore what.”

  “Who would care?” Tara asked.

  “It’s just the way it was done back then. We really get into the time period,” Nathalie explained.

  “Okay, then, I think I can make this work,” I said, tilting the hat back up.

  Nathalie tapped it back down.

  “It really cuts down on my visibility,” I said.

  “You’ll get used to it,” Nathalie assured me. “Let’s find you some button-up shoes.”

  She not only found us shoes that didn’t pinch our toes too badly, but she also found us velvet, fur-lined capes.

  The photographer took photos of Tara and me before we removed our costumes. He promised the pictures would be ready before the end of the day so Tara could take her copy back to Texas with her.

  I was having way too much fun with Tara here. I didn’t want to think about her leaving. And I was afraid it was going to be difficult, lonely even, when she went home.

  16

  In the end, Nathalie’s boyfriend didn’t talk Shaun into wearing a top hat or a bowler. He wore exactly what Tara had predicted: a knit cap pulled down over his ears. He wore jeans, boots, a sweatshirt, and a heavy down jacket. Not exactly Victorian attire, but Tara was convinced Nathalie had exaggerated about everyone’s enthusiasm for wearing costumes.

  “I suspect it’s only the women who really dress up,” she said.

  Although I wasn’t sure if people were even going to be able to tell that we were dressed up. I loved the fur-lined cape, but it was a lot colder at night than during the day. Tara and I had just got to the end of the walkway—hadn’t even gone through the gate yet—when we turned around and went back inside to get our heavy coats.

  Yes, that meant we were clearly identifiable as nonislanders, but we both decided that was better than being human ice pops.

  Of course, Shaun didn’t care what Tara wore. She could have been in Eskimo attire and he would have been fine with it.

  Mom was going on the tour as well, with some women she’d met when she joined The Ladies’ Tea Group. Apparently they liked to get together once a week to sample assorted teas and exchange sandwich recipes. I had to admit that it had been a long time since I’d seen Mom this relaxed and happy. Moving was definitely paying off.

  Tara, Shaun, and I walked through the shopping area of town. Most of the houses designated for the Victorian Walk were along a curving hill that would eventually lead back to the hotel where the dance was being held—at least, that was how it appeared on the map we’d been given at the base of the hill. The path was clearly marked with strings of white Christmas lights. The houses we were allowed to enter had a sign in front of them announcing:

  Victorian Walk Tour

  Donations Accepted at the Door

  All Proceeds to Benefit the Historical Preservation Society

  Nathalie had forgotten to mention that the tickets were for getting into the dance only. To take a tour through one of the cottages, we were encouraged to make a donation at the door. Since Tara and I didn’t have purses to match our costumes—we certainly didn’t want an unfavorable review in the society section—we didn’t have any money on us, so it fell to Shaun to dig out his wallet and drop a donation into the bowl for us. He didn’t seem to mind, but then with him it was hard to tell.

  The first cottage was totally awesome. Nearly every room had a fireplace and they all had a fire going. The rooms were huge, which was good because a lot of people were walking through and I was wearing that stupid hat. Not only was my visibility limited, but I was much wider than normal. After bumping into a couple of people, I took off the hat and just hoped I wouldn’t run into Nathalie.

  When we went through the kitchen, we were given a plastic cup of hot apple cider and a brownie. That seemed to be the standard policy for each house: some sort of hot apple cider (cinnamon, raspberry, red hots) and a dessert (cookie, lemon bar, cupcake, brownie). Some rooms had a rope in the doorway so you could only peer inside, but most allowed you to walk through.

  I’ve never been big into touring homes. Mom and Dad used to go to a Parade of Homes, but those were new houses built for the megawealthy, valued at millions. Dream homes for most people. I’d gone once but hadn’t been really interested after that.

  But I had to admit that touring these older homes was more interesting. I tried to imagine all the different people who had lived here during the past hundred or so years. They may have even owned some of the knickknacks sitting on the shelves.

  And we discovered that Nathalie hadn’t exaggerated. Most people were dressed in period costumes—even the men. Top hats and walking canes and everything.

  After we toured the fourth house and were walking along the path, Shaun said, “I’ve got enough money for one more house.”

  Tara wrapped her arm around his and snuggled up against him. “That’s cool. I’ve pretty much seen all I need to see. Seen one house, seen them all.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was trying to make Shaun feel better because he hadn’t brought more money, or if she really hadn’t liked walking through the houses.

  “I thought they were cool,” I admitted, feeling kinda geeky because I’d enjoyed looking around a lot more than I’d expected. I was already looking forward to next year. And who knew? Maybe Mom and I would put our place on the tour. “Thanks