Christmas in Aspen by Anita Hughes (Excerpt)

Chapter One

Caroline Holt was supposed to be in London, having a hot holiday romance with Brad, an attractive British editor she’d met in the spring at the London Book Fair. Instead, she was driving to upstate New York, to spend Christmas at the family cabin in Hudson, with her younger sister, Daphne.

Caroline had always loved her mother’s cabin, nestled in a forest of pine trees. When she was young, she adored Christmas in the Hudson Valley. The winter walk in town, with the shop windows all lit up and the lampposts decorated with huge red bows. The evenings always ended with hot chocolate and reindeer-shaped cinnamon cookies.

But this year she was dreading the holidays; it had been the worst year of her life. A few months ago, her mother, Anne, died from breast cancer. In November, Jack Barret, the guy she was having a fling with, did not take it well when she’d ended their relationship, and she had to change the locks in her apartment. Jack was an attorney for celebrity book contracts, and he was handsome and confident. But after she told him they couldn’t see each other anymore, he wouldn’t leave her alone.

* * *

Anne had been a successful agent at the House of Books, a prestigious New York City literary agency. Caroline’s childhood revolved around books. Once a month, Anne hosted a literary salon at the apartment, and in the summers, authors sometimes stayed at the cabin.

When Caroline landed her first job as an editorial assistant at a publishing house, she couldn’t believe she was being paid to do what she loved. She had grown up around books and had dreamed of a career in publishing for as long as she could remember. And her passion only grew over the years. She adored every aspect of being an editor—from the initial thrill of falling head over heels for a manuscript to removing the dust jacket of the printed book and smelling the spine as if it were a bouquet of flowers.

But for the past several months, she’d felt burned out. She couldn’t get excited enough about the submissions sent to her by agents. She didn’t agree with the marketing team on several strategies, and when one of her authors panicked a few weeks before publication, she was too exhausted to give her usual pep talk to cheer her up.

At first, she attributed it to her mother’s diagnosis, and to inheriting extra books when another editor quit. But then her mother went into remission, and the publisher hired a new editor, and she felt the same. The problem was with her, and she didn’t know how to fix it.

Two days ago, the publisher, Claudia Kennedy, called Caroline into her office. Claudia was in her mid-forties. Her dark hair was worn in a sleek bob, and she wore a beige turtleneck and a red wool sweater.

“Caroline, please sit down.” Claudia motioned to the chair. “Would you like a gingerbread cookie?”

A gift box of Christmas cookies from the New York Times bestselling author Aaron Robertson sat on the desk. Caroline smiled in spite of herself.

“I hate having this talk so close to the holidays, but this can’t wait,” Claudia said when Caroline accepted the cookie. “I think you know what it’s about.”

Claudia had been the publisher for five years. She knew how hard Caroline worked from her editorial-assistant days when they worked together at a different house.

“I don’t know why Greta Egan’s book didn’t do better, it had fantastic word of mouth,” Caroline blurted out. “And I know my edit notes for Samantha Wong took longer to reach her than usual, but she turned in a hundred and fifty thousand words. The book she delivered before that was eighty K.”

“It’s not about one particular book,” Claudia cut in. “You hardly participate at meetings, and lately you’ve been canceling lunches with agents. I got a concerned call from one of your mother’s close friends at the House of Books. You won’t acquire new books unless you’re out there, talking to people. It could help you too.”

Caroline put down the cookie. Every editor was expected to buy a certain number of books per year. This was the first year that Caroline hadn’t come close to reaching her goal.

“I’ve been feeling down, and I didn’t want anyone to see,” she admitted. “I know it will pass.” She put on her most professional smile. “A week at my mother’s cabin will help. Daphne and I are going to spend all day in pajamas, drinking clove tea and reading by the fireplace.”

“I can’t imagine how hard it’s been without Anne, the whole publishing world loved her,” Claudia said kindly. “But I have to think about the company. I can tell your heart isn’t in your work. You haven’t bought any new books since the fall. If you don’t bring something to an acquisition meeting by the end of the winter, I will have to answer to our CEO, who noticed you didn’t have books to present at last season’s sales conference.”

Caroline tried to swallow. No matter how exhausted she felt, she couldn’t imagine having any other job. But where would she find a book, when every manuscript she received left her feeling numb?

“I promise, I’ll find one, I won’t let you down,” Caroline said.

“I want to believe you,” Claudia sighed. “I’ll tell you what. If you prove yourself at the winter sales meeting, we can revisit this in your spring job review.”

Caroline’s breathing relaxed. She stood up. “I know the manuscript is out there, I just need a lucky break. Thank you for the cookie, I should go.”

Caroline had gone home and canceled her trip to London. Claudia was giving her another chance and she couldn’t spend the holidays browsing in Harrods’ luxury Christmas ornament department or sitting in a pub drinking mulled wine when she needed to discover a new author. Brad was an editor too, he would understand. She texted him that she wasn’t coming, and asked for a rain check for the following year. Then, this afternoon, she loaded her iPad and overnight bag into her car and headed for the cabin. At first, she felt excited about her decision. She and Daphne had barely seen each other since their mother died. They could ski at Mohonk in New Paltz. Stock up on eggnog and waffle mix at Cold Spring General Store. But the closer she got to the cabin, the more she doubted herself. Memories of Anne would be everywhere. At least in London with Brad, she could have distracted herself by listening to him talk about the British publishing industry with that sexy upper-crust accent.

As she pulled up, Daphne flung open the front door. Daphne’s blond hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she wore jeans and a cable-knit sweater.

When they were growing up, no one thought they were related. Daphne looked exactly like Anne. They both had blue eyes and that all-American style that looked best in casual clothes. Caroline must have taken after her father. She was too tall, and her hair was wavy, even when she straightened it. Her best feature was her smile. Brad said it reminded him of Julia Roberts in Notting Hill.

“I’m so glad you came.” Daphne hugged her. “I thought you’d be eating plum pudding and drinking Buck’s fizzes at an estate in the English countryside.”

Daphne worked at a public relations company in Boston. Unlike Caroline, she wasn’t interested in a job in the literary world, and she loved to travel. The walls in her apartment were covered with posters of canals in Amsterdam, and churches in Prague.

Caroline told her about her meeting with Claudia.

“I wouldn’t have been good company for Brad,” Caroline sighed. “I’m going to spend the week glued to my iPad.”


Copyright © 2024 by Anita Hughes