Let it Snow!

❄️Fifty❄️

Nora's room was filled with bright, cold light hinting at the late hour, streaming inside through the gap between the curtains, when she opened her eyes the following day.

What had woken her up? she wondered, pulling her covers above her head, shivering slightly. She really should get up and rekindle the fires before the cottage gets too cold... But she had nothing to do today, nowhere to rush, she could as well stay in bed and read the whole day, there were enough blankets in her wardrobe to keep her warm...

There it was again, the sound that had woken her up, and this time, she recognised it as a decisive and impatient knocking on the door.

She sighed. The only person whom she would want to see now was Martin, and it couldn't be him. He would be too busy with the ball. It must be Eric then... Right, even though she didn't feel the need to tell him about the long gone feelings she had held for him for her own sake anymore, she might have to do it for him. The sooner, the better; he might as well hear it now and then step back and leave her alone. He belonged in her past, and that's where she wanted him to remain.

She got up and grabbed her dressing gown off the bed, wrapping it around herself as she rushed down the stairs, summoned by another round of impatient knocking, unlocked and opened the front door blowing a few stray strands of unbrushed hair from her eyes at the same time.

"Cle... Clelia," she stammered, spotting her godmother behind the large box she was carrying. "I... thought it was someone else."

"Well, your Martin is busy, but you must know that, the ball is such a nuisance to organise, only a man as patient as he could put up with it year after year," Clelia mumbled as she pushed past Nora to get inside. "Have I just woken you up? It's almost twelve!" she exclaimed as Nora found a pair of slippers for her while the old woman removed her shoes, still clinging to her silvery box.

"Why are you here? What's in that box?" Nora asked, utterly puzzled, as she trailed behind Clelia into the sitting room where she finally deposited the mysterious box on the sofa.

"And she was sure you'd guess the moment you saw me because of the stockings. Oh, Nora, it takes you a while to put things together sometimes."

She chuckled, and Nora frowned at her. "What's in that box?" she repeated.

"Your ball dress, of course. Magdalena left it with me last night; she said you never came to pick it up. And there's mine too, I didn't want Martin to see me already dressed..."

Nora caught at the only word that made sense. "Martin?"

"He came to pick up Daniel early this morning. Goodness, when does that man even sleep? He has so many responsibilities! He said that he would send for us at six."

"But I wasn't going to the ball, I don't have a dress..." And why Martin didn't come to see her in the morning? Her phone was still off... Leaving Clelia staring after her, she ran upstairs and switched the phone on, receiving two texts from Martin the moment it came to life.

'Are you up? I'm going to get Daniel, would you like to walk with me?" Asked the first, sent before seven in the morning. 'We'll see you later then.' The next, sent twenty minutes after the first informed her.

"Nora! Where have you gone to? Come and have a look, it's wonderful," her godmother's voice reached her from downstairs as she typed a reply. 'Hi. I'm sorry, I overslept. Clelia just woke me up.'

"I'm coming!" she called even as her phone vibrated with immediate reply. 'Whatever you wear, I'll recognise you the moment I see you.'

She laughed, recalling their game. 'No, you won't.'