Let it Snow!

❄Eight❄

Nora only remembered that she had meant to buy some wood as she spotted a fresh pile of it on the porch of her cottage when she arrived home, nearly an hour after she had said goodbye to Clelia and Albert in the parking lot.

She was exhausted by her walk across the meadow where the new snow had not melted like it had in the town. The wind had swept it into small heaps, and from the sound it was making under her shoes, Nora knew it was starting to freeze. It would be a cold night. She was happy that the heavy backpack slowing her down was the last piece of luggage she really needed, there was only one bag left in the car, filled mainly with books-- Albert could look after those for her.

Nora pulled herself up the few wooden steps leading to the porch and set the backpack on the swing bench before she walked curiously towards a small, white envelope tied with a piece of twine to one of the logs.

It had been left unsealed and she easily extracted a card from it, informing her in a neat handwriting: 'Don't worry about buying wood, I'll keep supplying you just as I did with your grandmother. Here's the spare key of your cottage-- Barbara gave it to me because I used to help her around the house, and promised her to keep it in good shape for you. She knew you would be back. Welcome home, Nora.'

How... intriguing. Her grandma's friend forgot to sign the card. Or maybe they didn't want to be recognized and thanked, didn't want Nora to feel obliged, indebted. It was exactly what she would have done in their place.

Still, her curiosity was too strong to let it go. She dialled Clelia's number to ask about the mysterious benefactor the moment she lit the fire in the sitting room.

"Hmm, I'm not sure, Nora. Everybody knew Barbara in this town, she had many friends." Clelia's voice reached Nora's ear from the other end of the line, after she had listened to what had happened.

"But this person had a spare key, repaired and cleaned the house, and even brought flowers..."

"Hmm... I remember that when your mother told me that you were planning to come back this winter, I mentioned it to all the people who know you here. Everyone is happy that you are back, that Barbara's house won't be empty and forgotten."

"All right then, thanks, Clelia. Good night," Nora said, adding another log to the fire. She would solve this mystery alone, sooner or later.

She put the phone down and set it on the mantelpiece before she walked outside to refill her basket, got the fire burning upstairs in her bedroom and walked out for more wood once more, bringing enough logs for the whole evening. Then she finally locked the front door, carried her backpack upstairs, took a shower, and, washed and changed into warm and comfortable clothes, her wavy hair brushed, towel-dried and left loose, she returned downstairs, feeling happy.

It was too late to start cleaning and unpacking tonight, Nora decided. She found her favourite music on her phone, turned the volume up so it would fill the old cottage without being too loud, then walked into the kitchen and turned the oven on, leaving it to heat up while she put the groceries she had bought away. Nora opened the bottle of red wine she had chosen from the limited supplies of the small shop, and poured herself a glass, inhaling the pleasant, fruity aroma, while the pizza was cooking without a need of supervision, giving her the time to run upstairs and get a book.

She switched on the reading light next to the sofa, settled under the blanket she had found in a wardrobe upstairs and put on her glasses, but, instead of focusing on the opening paragraphs of Jane Eyre, her eyes kept strolling to the carnations on the coffee table filling the air around her with their warm, spicy scent, and the floor-to-ceiling window beyond. She had forgotten to draw the curtain, and the view, paired with Claire de Lune playing softly in the background, was too beautiful to ignore.