December 1950
For months, she's known it's coming. When they'd moved the rest of the furniture in August, Emma had tried to put all thoughts of the impending winter in her new home out of her mind. September had gone by quickly, with Susan settling into the fifth grade at Spring Grove School one town over. Pine Tree is too small a town to have its own school, a fact she has reminded Tom of no less than five times. October started to make her nervous, as the temperatures don't budge from the mid forties as she pulls the station wagon out of the driveway to drop off Susan. The bus won't come to Pine Tree either, but she keeps her mouth shut on that one, choosing to enjoy the extra time with Susan instead. November is worse, those few flurries here and there teasing her while the thermometer drops lower and lower. Tom is ecstatic. They're too new to expect a big crowd, but surely even a little bit of snow will entice a few New England residents out to try their luck with a pair of skis.
And then it happens. On the ninth day of December, with Susan asleep and the dishes all put away, Emma goes to make sure all the windows are closed, feeling a chill she just can't shake. There it is, just out the window, and her eyes widen. One, two, surely that's three feet of snow! She pulls her robe tighter around herself, relieved to see Tom stoking the fire when she goes to tell him the news. Taking a seat on the sofa, she holds her hands out to warm them, feeling as chilled as if she'd been outside in it.
"There's three feet of snow outside," Emma informs him, as if she's tattling on Mother Nature. "You'll have to take Susan to school tomorrow, I don't think I could get the car out of the driveway."
Naturally he gets up to check, suddenly thrilled with her news, but his excitement turns to amusement as he turns on the porch light to have a peek. "You're not afraid of snow are you?" Tom asks, relishing this rare opportunity to tease her. "That's six inches of snow, Em." He knows the nickname will get him in trouble if she's already annoyed, but he can't help himself, realizing that she has no idea what she's in for this winter.
"Well pardon me," Emma snaps back, rolling her eyes as he makes his way back to the fireplace. "I'm sure it will be below zero by tomorrow at any rate. I can't send Susan out in that. We'll have to write her an excuse."
Tom bites back a laugh, not wanting to risk her anger for the rest of the evening. German bombs and shrapnel to the leg were nothing compared to the woman in front of him at her most incensed. "It's Vermont, Emma. It's not Antarctica. Tomorrow it will be thirty degrees and Susan can go to school just like always."
"Well I'm still freezing," Emma replies, not wanting to admit that he's probably right just yet. She crosses her arms for emphasis, tucking her hands into the sleeves of her robe like a muff.
"That part I can fix," he assures her, moving back to his former position on the cushion beside her. "There's lots of ways to keep warm. Sitting by the fire is a good start, and a nice strong drink helps too. But I find my favorite involves contact with another individual." He stops, placing one hand under her knees and another on her back to shift her onto his lap. "Like this." Hearing no complaints, he lets his lips find the bare skin between her robe and her pajama top. "And this." Another kiss. "And this." One more kiss. "And this." His lips are on her cheek now, and he pulls back to admire the small grin she's no longer attempting to hide. "Well if you're going to do that every time I'm cold, I think I'd like to be an icicle," Emma quips, taking her hand out to rest against his cheek. This is why she loves him, impulsive schemes to build a ski lodge and all.
"If we didn't have a business to run, we could hibernate in here like bears," Tom laughs, proud that her eye roll this time is accompanied by a kiss, her hand continuing to stroke his weathered skin as their lips meet.
"Suddenly I don't think this winter will feel very long after all."