“Cold.” Alix’s voice was clear and strong. “It’s rare to have snow in December, but everything about the weather is messed up at the moment.”

Christy thought about the leak in the bathroom. “Tell me about it.”

“Is this a good time to talk? Am I disturbing you?”

“No, it’s great to hear your voice. You haven’t called in a while.” Should she confess that she missed the days when they’d messaged each other constantly? No, that would be unfair. Alix was busy building a career. Christy pictured her now in Manhattan, dark hair pulled back, tailored dress, heels that would make most women wince to look at them, let alone wear. “I’m sure you’ve been really busy.”

“That’s me. Busy, busy. Work is crazy.”

“I envy you your glamorous life.” Christy carried on clearing up with one hand, her phone in the other.

“Are you kidding? I envy you your idyllic country cottage.”

Idyllic? Christy shivered and snuggled deeper into her sweater.

She resisted the temptation to confess the doubts she was having. She wasn’t ready to tell anyone that, not even Alix. Not after she’d made such a fuss about living here.

“When is your event, and what are you wearing?”

“Event is tonight, and I don’t know what I’m wearing. Something black and serious. It’s work, right?” She broke off, and Christy heard the sound of car horns in the background.

“It’s an awards dinner.”

“Exactly. Work, but in posh clothing. I probably should have asked your advice. You’re the stylish one.”

Stylish? These days she chose her clothes for warmth and durability and tried not to think about all the dresses and shoes she no longer had a use for. Christy glanced down at her black yoga pants and noticed a small blob of paint. How had that happened? She was always so careful. “Don’t wear black. It’s boring, and not at all you.”

“Good point. Maybe I’ll wear fancy dress. Talking of which, we have a fabulous range right now. Does my favorite four-year-old need anything new? There’s a great unicorn costume.”

“You already sent her that.” Christy switched on the fairy lights in the kitchen. Since she’d discovered that the soft glow from the twinkly lights disguised the damp patches on the walls, she’d strung them everywhere. Holly assumed they were Christmas decorations, and Christy was fine with that, but she’d already decided they wouldn’t be coming down in January. If her future had to be filled with thick sweaters and damp socks, it was also going to be filled with fairy lights. “There aren’t enough days in the week for her to wear what you’re sending. Where are you now?”

“On my way to a meeting. Traffic on Fifth is a nightmare.”

Traffic on Fifth. People. Life. Atmosphere. “You sound like a local.”

“This is my third trip in eight weeks. I’m starting to feel that way.”

Christy cleared up paints and tipped the water away. She wasn’t envious; she really wasn’t. She enjoyed her balance of work and motherhood, even if she did sometimes feel as if she compromised on both elements. This was the life she’d chosen, although it would have been nice to have her husband home and a house that didn’t leak. “Still makes me smile, thinking of you working for a global toy company.”