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Somehow, Trisha managed to get home before Monday sunset. She’d had to leave her car in Boston, take a bus to Worcester, another from there to Hardwick and then walk all the way from town to the Manor. But she made it, and I treated her to a lavish dinner, before sending her upstairs for a relaxing bath and a good night sleep in her warm, comfy bed.
I was still excited about Brandon’s call, but I put it aside to hear about her crazy adventures in the snow. By Tuesday morning, when my friend found her way downstairs to let Susan have her way on the second floor, I was already calm and composed, and just dropped a casual comment about it.
“Oh, he texted me last night,” she said, struggling to go from the standing-up state to really awake. “Just a line: let’s do it after New Year. You coming back from the party with him?”
I frowned, thinking that was actually a good idea. If roads were open, maybe he would accept an invitat
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