This wasn’t the way he’d intended to propose, but— as the cliché had it—there was no time like the present. “I love you, Noelle, and I’m not going to let this feud stand between us. Our parents will have to understand that we’re entitled to our own happiness.”

Tears glistened in her eyes. “Oh, Thom.”

“I’m asking you to be my wife.”

She stretched her arm across the table and they joined hands. “And I’m telling you it would be the greatest honor of my life to accept. I have a request, though.”

“Anything.”

“I want to buy that tea service. Not you. Me.”

Thom frowned. “Why?”

“I want to give it to your mother. From me to her. I can’t replace the original, but maybe I can build a bridge between our families with this one.”

Thom’s fingers tightened around hers. “It’s worth a try.”

“I think so, too,” she whispered.

“I’m going to try my phone again,” Sarah said. Technology had betrayed them, but surely it would come to their rescue. Eventually. Walking a mile in the bitter cold was something she’d rather avoid.

“Go ahead,” Mary urged. She didn’t seem any more eager than Sarah to make the long trek.

Sarah got her phone and speed dialed her home number. Hope sprang up when the call instantly connected, but was dashed just as quickly when she heard the recording once again.

“Any luck?” Mary asked, her eyes bright and teary in the cold.

She shook her head.

“Damn,” Mary muttered. “I guess that means there’s no option but to hoof it.”

“Appears that way.”

“I think we should have a little fortification first, though,” Sarah said. Her husband’s golf bags were in the back seat, and she knew he often carried a flask.

“Fortification?”

“A little Scotch might save our lives.”

Mary’s look was skeptical. “I’m all for Scotch, but where are we going to find any out here?”

“Jake.” She opened the back door and grabbed the golf bag. Sure enough, there was a flask.

“I don’t remember you liking Scotch,” Mary said.

“I don’t, but at this point I can’t be choosy.”

“Right.”

Sarah removed the top and tipped the flask, taking a sizable gulp. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she swallowed, then shook her head briskly. “Oh my, that’s strong.” The liquor burned all the way down to her stomach, but as soon as it hit bottom, a welcoming warmth spread through her limbs.

“My turn,” Mary said.

Sarah handed her the flask and watched as Mary rubbed the top, then tilted it back and took a deep swallow. She, too, closed her eyes and shook her head. Soon, however, she was smiling. “That wasn’t so bad.”

“It might ward off hypothermia.”

“You’re right. You’d better have another.”

“You think?”