Though Dana didn’t pick us up at the airport, she did leave Brett’s car there. It’s chilly, and I’m glad I had packed a pair of wool mitts. I put them on over the thin cotton gloves I’m already wearing. We get our luggage off the carousel and head to the airport parking lot.

“My mom likes to be prepared for company, so she dropped off my car here.” Brett loads my luggage in the back of his BMW. “She said she wants to have a meal ready when we get there.”

“She didn’t have to do that. We could have helped her make dinner, so she could see you sooner.”

Brett snickers, “My mother wouldn’t have it. She loves cooking a big meal. Gives her an excuse to be creative. She doesn’t like guests acting as hosts, either. Expect that she’ll be waiting on you.”

My brows furrow. “What? She’ll wait on me?”

He scoots over to the passenger door and opens it for me. I sit in the passenger side. “She’s very motherly. Whenever my sister and I come home, she rarely lets us lift a finger.”

“Well, she doesn’t need to wait on me. I’m a big girl.”

I would never have imagined Brett’s home to be what it is: a log house, in the remote countryside, nestled in a mature forest surrounded by plenty of mountains and streams. It’s ironic; this was the kind of upbringing Anne and I had come up with when creating an image for me. As we go up the long driveway, my eyes are darting about, taking it all in. Their log house is an A-frame home with several large wings attached. The A-frame section has five oversized windows with a large door in the middle. The roof tops and window gables are heavy with snow and the trees surrounding it are bare, their branches covered with frost. It looks like something out of a Country Life magazine. There’s a large stable standing a few hundred feet from the house.

“You never said you had horses,” I say, seeing a few wearing winter coats, treading through snow in a fenced-in yard.

“Well, they aren’t mine. My mother owns the stable. It’s more of a hobby for her. She rents out two or three of the stalls to people to look after their horses.

“Do people come and go quite a bit?” I ask.

“It’s not too crazy. The people she rents to are old friends of the family. Actually, I’d say they are more like family than friends.”

“Oh. Do you have any cousins or aunts or uncles nearby?” I ask.

“Yeah. I have a few cousins that live in Columbus. They might pop by here in the next week.”

He pulls up to the garage and hits the button on his clip-on remote. The garage door goes up. I’m astounded at what I see; a huge banner with the words ‘WELCOME HOME, BRETT.’ Brett goes bright pink, “Don’t think she makes a banner every time I come home. She made that when I came home from my first year in college. She hangs it up whenever I come to visit.”

“That’s sweet. At least you know she’s missed you.”

“Wait till we get in the house. She can be a little over-welcoming.”

When we get inside, I can smell cinnamon and other delicious baked goods and inhale deeply. The home is an open concept with a very large living area. There’s a large woodstove going, with a pile of logs on its hearth and a huge television on a stone wall above it. There are two openings leading to the back of the home on either side of the woodstove. The living room also has three large leather couches furnished with homemade quilts. One of them is Blazers themed. It has different sized logos through the patchwork along with Brett’s name, number and little footballs all over it. I quickly realize that his mother must have bought a load of Blazers merchandise to make it. My eyes span across the room. The kitchen is attached to the living area on the right. I see Brett’s mother standing behind the kitchen island, hovering over some shortbread cookies with an icing bag, wearing a colorful frilly apron with the words, ‘Country Girl at Heart’ embroidered across the chest. She seems to be entranced with the intricate designs she’s making on the cookies as Christmas tunes play in the background. As I remove my boots, Brett puts our suitcases down next to the door. “You got any cookies finished that I can have, Mom?” He gives her a bright smile, shutting the door.

“Brett! Honey!” She squeals. She drops the icing bag on the counter and runs to him, her arms outstretched. “I didn’t hear you come through the door! You’ve finally come back to me.”

I’m a little worried by her words—damned is the woman that falls in love with a mama’s boy. Brett gives her a firm squeeze, “I’ve missed you, Mom. You should come visit New York more often.”

“Oh, Brett, don’t be silly. You know New York isn’t a place for a gal like me.” Finally, she turns to me, her face bright pink, her eyes wide.

Brett extends his arm, resting his hand on the small of my back. “Mom, this is Lexi Driver. I’m sure you’ve seen her with me on television.”

“Yes. Nice to meet you, Lexi,” she says warmly as she shakes my hand. “You can call me Dana. I don’t think you know this, but you once asked a question that I sent in.”

“Seriously? What question was it?”

“Oh, I’m Bizzymama16 on WeTweet. I sent you the question that asked if Brett feels happy despite all the pressure that’s mounting.”

I’m not sure if it was her that I received the question from; I do have a lot of repeat questions. “I’m so glad I asked then. It was a good question. Brett’s role on the team has changed a lot these past few months.”

“Why don’t I give you a tour of the house,” she offers. “Brett, get Lexi’s things to the guest room.”

I want to laugh. This woman is old school. She clearly doesn’t want Brett and I to sleep in the same room. Brett gives Dana an awkward look, “Sure, I’ll bring her things in.”

Dana gives a firm expression, “Not to your room, Brett.”

“Right,” he mumbles in a frustrated tone. He takes off his boots and picks up the two suitcases he put by the door. I continue to take off my coat. “Let me get that.” Dana takes my coat from my hands. “I know it’s been a bit of a drive for you in that car.”

“Your home is gorgeous. It was worth the trip.”

Brett walks off with both our bags, “Don’t bore her with too many stories, Mom.”

“Oh, Brett, I’m sure she’s as curious about us as we are about her,” Dana says enthusiastically.

I hear Brett groan as he walks through an opening next to a woodstove across the living area.

“So, where are you from, Lexi?” Dana asks.

“Oh, uh, I was born in Michigan, but moved around a bit,” I say uncomfortably, hoping she doesn’t ask too many questions.

“I hope your family doesn’t mind us stealing you this holiday. Brett insisted that it was okay to have you here the entire week. I hope you’re not missing out on any family traditions you already have.”

“No, no, don’t worry. They aren’t bothered at all. You have quite the kitchen,” I say, changing the subject, stepping into the dining area. “It’s large.”

It is one of the largest I’ve ever seen, which is saying something considering how many homes of the wealthy I’ve been in. It’s even bigger than Anne’s parents’ latest real estate buy, which had a modern executive kitchen.

“Before Brett made it onto the Blazers, this house had only one wing and a rather modest kitchen. I was always trying to look for space for all my appliances and baking tools. But once he got his contract, the first thing he wanted to do was buy me a new home. Such a sweet boy.”

I’m confused. “Oh? Brett bought you this house?”

“Oh, no, no. He grew up here, I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving this place or the memories. So, I agreed to allow him to put on an addition, then we renovated the inside.”

“That’s nice. Did the addition include any other upgrades?”

“Yes, I also got an upgrade on the horse stalls and my master bathroom.”

I glance down and notice the kitchen table for the first time, “Is this live wood?”

“Yes, it is. Our lot is several hundred acres.” She points out the window. “We own beyond those hills over there.” My jaw drops, the hills are a distance away and filled with trees. Dana continues, “Anyway, there was a large tree that had fallen down around the time we did the reno, so I asked to take a slab of it for my kitchen table and my island.”

“Very nice,” I say, taking note of the island and the maple wood cupboards. “Suppose it was good timing when that tree fell down? Are your cupboards made from wood off your lot, too?”

“Absolutely. Brett insisted that I should have gotten granite or quartz instead for the island, but stone has such a cold feeling. He also thought I should get white cupboards. Ugh. I couldn’t imagine getting anything else when everything we need is already on our lot.”

I’ve never felt that my apartment with its modern digs was cold. But, I rarely use my countertops. I usually go out to eat. On the other hand, it’s clear to me that Dana likes to be surrounded by the things she loves. A bunch of picture frames fill the wall next to the dining table. They are filled with pictures of Brett and what I think is his sister Elena when they were young.

“Is this Elena?” I ask, pointing to a frame of a little girl sitting on her bed reading. Dana’s expression brightens, “Yes. Those two were nothing alike. Elena used to spend hours reading and writing in her room as a girl. She rarely went riding with me.” Then she points to several frames next to it, “But Brett loved the outdoors. Couldn’t get enough of it.” I look at the different frames. In one, Dana is taking a toddler-sized Brett riding on a horse. In another, he’s holding a football and posing, in another his head is peeking out of a snow fort he’d built.

“Cute.”

“It was hard to get a picture of Elena doing anything else.” She smiles. “I tried to get her into crafts like me. But she didn’t like it so much.”

I look at the rest of the pictures of Elena. They are mostly of her writing at a desk or reading. There is one picture of her on a horse—with a huge pout on her face. I scrunch up my face in wonder, “They had nothing in common. Did Brett and Elena spend much time together?”

Dana taps her finger to her lip, “You know, it’s the funniest thing. Kids. They hadn’t anything in common, but they were so close. Very protective of each other, too. I’d say Brett is Elena’s biggest defender.”

“That’s nice. I didn’t have any siblings myself.”

“That’s a shame.” She presses her lips together. I can sense she feels a little embarrassed by what she has said. “But my kitchen isn’t the only room in the house. I’m sure you’d like to see more.”

She escorts me into the living area and shows me several of the quilts she’s made. One is representative of Elena. It has loads of quotes from famous authors. Dana points to them, “I once asked Elena to tell me all her favorite authors quotes. I then had them printed up and I patched this together. For years, I’ve never understood this one.” She points down to one of the patches. I look down and read it.

Interesting. Taking journalism in college, I had decided to take some literature courses as well. “I can’t remember the author,” I admit. “But I know the quote.”

Dana talks down to a whisper, “What on earth does that mean? I’ve always wanted to ask her why she chose it.”

“If I remember, I think the poem is about the life of an artist. It’s difficult to be one. Kind of lonely. But the author makes the point that as difficult as it is, society needs them.”

Dana looks at me impressed, “Wow. That makes a lot of sense for her. Why don’t you let me take you to your room?”

She leads the way and casually points to her left. “Through this door, there’s my bedroom as well as a guest bathroom. I look back over at the kitchen and realize that her bedroom and en suite are the same size. The two wings I saw from the outside were equal in length. Wow, that’s a big bedroom. We walk through the opening, next to the woodstove. There’s a back entrance. Outside, I see a huge deck filled with snow. She takes me up to the oversized windows and points into the forest and mountains.

“The forest goes on for a bit,” she explains. “When Brett was younger, he was a daredevil. He’d go rock climbing in the mountains.” She grins, “He made his own zip line in there once, too.”

I laugh, “Is it still there?”

“Doubt it. Nowadays, Brett likes to go snowmobiling in there. There’s a big pond that’s great for ice skating, too.”

“Certainly seems to be a lot to do around here.”

“It was the perfect place to bring up a very active little boy,” she says simply.

We both turn from the window, and I notice two large staircases climbing up the walls on either side of us. “The staircase on the left leads to Elena’s bedroom and a guest bedroom,” Dana explains. “The staircase on the right leads to Brett’s bedroom and a guest room.” She leads me up the stairs on the right. I’m excited. Though I won’t be sleeping in Brett’s room, it appears I won’t be far from him.

When we reach the top, she points to the right. “This room is Brett’s room.” I take a quick peek inside, but she quickly moves down the hall. I follow. Passing the guest room across from Brett, she moves onto the next door. “This is the bathroom.” I step inside. “There’s a shower and a bathtub,” Dana continues. “You can use whichever you prefer. There’s some towels in the closet here.” She opens a door revealing shelves of perfectly folded white towels.

“Great. So, which room will I be staying in?”

She moves out of the bathroom, “There’s a guest room across the hall from Elena’s room.”

I follow her as she steps into the next room, “You’ll be staying here.”

I enter my room and look about. All the furnishings are antique and there is an embroidered quilt on the bed. “I love all your décor, Dana. Your house feels so homey.”

She beams. “Thanks. I decorated it myself. Brett wanted to hire an interior decorator for me. But I think a place feels more like your own when you do it yourself.”

I see a picture frame sitting on a dresser vanity. In it, there is a young girl, standing next to a horse wearing a ribbon. It’s in a faded sepia tone. “Is that you?” I ask picking up the frame.

“Yes. That was the first show I ever won. I was so proud. I read that you enjoy horse riding, did you do any shows?” she asks.

Damn. I sigh, there’s no point in hiding the truth. Not if I want to be taken seriously as Brett’s girlfriend. “I need to be honest with you, Dana.” I pause. Shit. This is not how I wanted our relationship to begin. “I’m sure you read all that information about me online.” I put down the photo frame and look her straight in the face. “But that’s not who I am. That’s something me and my public relations agent came up with to make me more appealing to the average American.” I brace myself for what I’m sure will be disgust. But she looks heartbroken, “What is it, Lexi? Why couldn’t you be honest about who you are?”

“Don’t get me wrong,” I begin, “I’m not ashamed of my past. It’s just … well, it’s the kind of past that may make other people feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” she says earnestly. “I’m sorry, but I’m a little curious. Are you willing to share where you are from?”

I gaze at her in surprise; most people I give that line to don’t ask for details. But I can see Dana is the empathetic type. I can now see where Brett gets it, “Both of my parents died in a car accident when I was three. I was in and out of foster homes till I was eighteen.”

Her lips tremble. “That’s awful. I’m sorry you went through that.”

“You don’t have to apologize, Dana. Most of my foster parents were pretty good people.”

“What do you usually do for holidays?” she asks, tilting her head.

I explain that I often go to Anne’s house and describe the atmosphere there.

“So, you’ve never established any holiday tradition?” she asks sadly. “You see different people every year.”

“Suppose so.” I rub my forearm.

“Well, we’ve got lots of traditions around here. First thing’s first though, have you ever ridden a horse?”

“No.” I look to my feet.

She begins to untie her apron, “Let’s go, Lexi. We can’t have all of America find out that you’ve never rode a horse in your life.”

She takes me out to the stables. It’s a struggle to walk through the snow in my boots, but I’m pumped. I’ve always thought of horses as beautiful, statuesque creatures. We enter the barns and I’m stunned at the number of horses she has.

“How many horses are here?” I ask surveying my surroundings.

“There’s about twenty. I own five myself. But I think I’ll put you on Betsy. She’s best with newbies.”

As it turns out, Betsy is a small pony. I wait outside the stall as Dana preps her with a saddle. Dana comes out leading Betsy by the reins.

“Put your foot on the stirrup and hop on,” Dana says, holding Betsy’s muzzle.

I nudge my foot into the stirrup and lift my other leg over. Thankfully, Betsy doesn’t move.

“All right. Here we go, Lexi! Your first ride on a horse!”

Though I’m not far from the ground and I’ve been on faster rides in my life, it’s exhilarating. Betsy seems relaxed and she lovingly nuzzles to my hand whenever I pet her cheek. Though she’s being led by Dana, she moves carefully to not startle me. “This is neat.” I giggle.

“Would you like me to teach you how to ride?” Dana asks, grinning widely.

“Sure! Do you think I could ride one of the bigger horses?”

“Aw, come on, Mom.” Both Dana and I look up. “You promised you weren’t going to bother Lexi with the horses.” Brett shakes his head as he enters the stable.

“Are you kidding, Brett?” Dana says incredulously. “She’s told all of America that she loves horses. She has to know something about them!”