She never planned to step her stiletto clad feet back in Love, Texas. Her heels always got bogged down in the Lonestar state mud. But Sarah’s best laid plans had crashed and burned just a few week before Christmas.

“Well, it’s about time you got here, Sarah Jayne.” Wrapped in a neon house coat that actually hurt to look at, her Aunt Jo stood in the doorway of the old Victorian house Sarah and her sisters had spent their summer vacations in.

“I’m sorry Aunt Jo. The drive took longer than I thought it would.” Especially since she had driven alone.

“I thought your young doctor was coming with you?”

“I thought so, too,” Sarah said. “Until I met his other fiancés.”

“His what?” Aunt Jo’s voice rose an octave with her indignation.

“Yeah, that was my reaction too,” Sarah said as she looked up at her aunt who was shaking her head like a pendulum. “Let me just grab my overnight case for tonight. I’ll get the rest in the morning.” Sarah hauled the second-hand Louis Vuitton she’d lovingly restored along with the matching purse out of the back seat of her rental car and hip bumped the door closed. “Then maybe we can have a nightcap and I’ll explain.”

“Of course. Where’s my head?” Sarah’s aunt flapped her hands in a come in and sit a spell wave. “Let’s get you inside and settled.” Aunt Jo’s voice was still the graveled, no nonsense tenor she remembered well. “Then we can have that night cap, and you can get some sleep.”

“That would be great, Aunt Jo.” Sarah heard the bone weary in her own voice but a night cap was an arrival tradition for the Jayne girls and Aunt Jo. It usually consisted of hot chocolate, made of warm milk and two tablespoons of cocoa powder, topped with marshmallows. Sarah wondered if she could slip a shot of something extra past Aunt Jo and into her own night cap cup.

After trudging up the stairs and across the porch, she followed her aunt inside. Sarah set down her bags and hung her coat on one of the hall tree hooks just inside the doorway. Her blouse was crumpled and wrinkle lined, her trousers less than crisp after her travels. And she just couldn’t muster up a give-a-damn. Not tonight anyway. Sarah fell into her aunt’s arms and inhaled deeply. The smell of sugar cookies and Chanel No. 5 clung to her.

She’d missed this.

After a quick coddle, Aunt Jo gave her a last squeeze then said, “I’ll start heating the milk.”

Sarah nodded and turned to haul her bags up the stairs. The worn-in dip on the first step cupped her toes like a comfortable old shoe. The fifth step creaked a bit when she stepped on it, and the top one spilled onto a hallway that ran the length of the house.

“Take your old room, dear,” Aunt Jo shouted up the stairs. But Sarah was already headed there.

She walked into the last room on the right and left her suitcase at the door, walking over to the full-size bed. She sank not so gracefully into the mattress and flopped backwards, letting the feather topper and the feeling of coming home envelope her.

The quilt was different, newer than the faded cabbage rose print one she’d wrapped herself up in as a child. But, the room still smelled like the lavender sachets her aunt made, the lemon oil polish she used on all the wood work, and that Chanel No. 5 Aunt Jo favored. Of all the places she and her sisters had been, this house smelled most like home.

Her parents moved around so much, Sarah never felt like she had a permanent home base to come back to as a child. Heck, one summer she and her sisters left the suburbs of Chicago for their summer time vacation with Aunt Jo and returned two weeks before the new school year to a moving crew complete with a truck bundling their household into boxes for a cross country trek to Tampa.

Once they’d arrived, it had taken Sarah weeks to find all her things in the mountain of moving boxes. Although that move had prompted her interest in revitalizing clothes. She’d thought she lost most of her wardrobe in the move until it was uncovered in the garage. Unfortunately for her, oil and other assorted goop had soaked the cardboard bottoms and damaged much of the boxes contents by the time her father located it. The Salvation Army and a sewing machine had saved the day, as Sarah remade herself a new wardrobe. Classic with a twist her sisters had called it.

She felt far removed from that first foray into fashion. And tired. Weary to the bone. Sarah kicked off her shoes, heard them hit the carpet with a soft plop, and contemplated rolling over and just going to sleep for a week or two. Then she could skip Christmas and move right into the new year. Reboot her life, and put this year behind her.

“Sarah.” Aunt Jo’s voice startled her.

She pushed up onto her elbows, feet still dangling off the edge of the bed.

“I thought you might be tired so I brought the night cap to you.” Aunt Jo balanced a tray with a pot hot cocoa, cups, and a bowl of marshmallows on it. She set it on the bed and sat down.

Sarah pushed herself upright and sat opposite. The smell of warmed chocolate and sugar wafted lightly in the air. “This is perfect, Aunt Jo.” She poured a cup for herself and one for her aunt.

“Don’t forget the marshmallows,” Aunt Jo said.

“Because sugar makes everything better.” Sarah finished the funny little adage her aunt had always used to justify stuffing her nieces with sweets all summer long. The girls used to joke that they needed new clothes when they went home because they always gained weight when they visited. Any excuse for a new wardrobe.

“So…” Aunt Jo blew gently on her melting marshmallows and hot chocolate. “Tell me about your Dr. Dick Head.”

Sarah choked on her hot chocolate and was pretty sure she almost snorted up a melting marshmallow as she tried to contain her giggles. “Headley. Richard,” she choked out. Dr. Richard Headley was one of New York’s top “rejuvenation doctors.” He got starlets ready for their close-ups then kept them looking their best with some strategic nips, tucks, and the creams he specially formulated. And he had been Sarah’s fiancée until a week ago.

“Whatever,” Aunt Jo said. “Are you two on one of those breaks ya’ll talk about taking? Or is this a more permanent parting of the ways?”

“Let’s just say, Richard is no longer my Dr. Dick Head,” Sarah said. “I broke the engagement when I found out there were at least four of us he was engaged to. By my count that is three fiancés too many.”

“What on earth?” Aunt Jo said, eyebrows disappearing under her shaggy bangs.

Sarah took a sip of her cocoa and crossed her legs, scooching into a more comfortable position. “According to fiancée number two, the good doctor was hedging his bets until he decided who he really wanted to marry. According to Richard, he was questioning whether I was the best “fit” for his image.” Sarah took another sip then lowered her cup. “And, he wanted me to consider a little nip and tuck myself.”

“I hope you told him no.”

“I did. But, who knew twenty-nine was the new over the hill?” At twenty-nine, Sarah didn’t see the need to change the few lines she saw on her face. She’d earned those lines through her laughter and her tears. They were the exclamation points of her life. She didn’t want to erase that. It was too much like erasing herself. And she’d done enough of that over the last ten years—whether she’d meant to or not.

“You are not over the hill,” Aunt Jo said. “Heck, I’ve got several decades on you and I’m still chugging up the hill. I haven’t even reached the top yet.”

“Then here’s to reaching the top,” Sarah said.

Aunt Jo lifted her mug in a toast and added, “And here’s to the ex-Dr. Dick Head. May he get just what he deserves.”

Sarah clinked cups gently and drank to that sentiment.