Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Reunions in the Eye of the Beholder
November
It was a brisk, almost wintery evening in Paris, Laurie had to admit as he made his way down the footpath and unconsciously ducked left to avoid crashing into the distracted, loved-up couple in his way.
He adjusted his scarf as he took in the lit up, decorated city, walking by as the outdoor heaters were fired up, and the last vestiges of daylight were dissipating into a dark, velvety, shimmering night sky. The tourist crowds had visibly thinned, allowing him to truly enjoy his walk, even if Laurie was currently out for a reason, and not simply on a relaxed stroll.
“Why did I let her do this again?” He muttered to himself as he searched for the restaurant his friend, Sophie, had given him explicit directions to. “Camille. Camille, oh where are you Camille?” He let out a noise of satisfaction when he spotted the unassuming place tucked away in the corner, with the barest hint of signage on the outside.
Laurie had hardly entered the restaurant, shuddering at the sudden warmth, before he greeted with a prompt “Monsieur?”
He grinned at the maitre’d with an awkward smile, pausing in his struggle with removing his scarf (an instinctive response to the sudden heat). “Bonjour! Reservation under Dupont?”
The maitre’d nodded knowingly with a warm smile, gesturing as he lead him to his table. “The other member of your party is already here.” Rather astutely, Laurie thought, he’d switched to English as he conversed with him. French was still a relative work-in-progress for him.
He chanced a glance at the table the maitre’d had gestured towards. Who the woman was, he couldn’t make out, for her face was hidden behind a menu and while her blonde hair seemed vaguely familiar, he could hardly place someone by their hair alone. And yet, a strange familiarity nudged at him the longer he looked in her direction.
“Monsieur.” He was directed to the empty seat when they got there.
His companion for the evening looked up from the menu as their arrival cast a shadow over her, leaving Laurie with no doubt as to who she was.
Caught by surprise, her mouthed widened in a silent ‘O’ as she took him in.
“Laurie,” she whispered faintly.
“Amy,” he stumbled in response, just as stupefied.
Amy Curtis March. Laurie had to admit, he hadn’t given much thought to the youngest March sibling in many years. While he’d vaguely known she was still in Paris, he’d last laid eyes on the youngest March almost half a decade ago (and oh, how much she’d grown).
To the best of his knowledge, his visits to Concord in recent years had never coincided with hers. Not that they’d necessarily kept in touch otherwise. But then again, that had happened long before Amy had left Concord behind for newer pastures. It had been, if Laurie had to guess, the natural consequence of him moving away for college with Jo, while Amy had, in turn, focused her energies on her final years of high school.
“You should sit down,” Amy eventually spoke up, breaking the (now) awkward silence that had continued to linger between them.
“Oh,” he shook his head as he realized the maitre’d had vanished in the meanwhile, “Yeah. Probably should.”
“Laurie,” Amy greeted him again with a small, genuine smile on her face, presumably having had time to recompose herself. “It’s been a while.”
“I didn’t know who I was meeting today,” he burst out abruptly before almost immediately, internally chastising himself, ’Way to start off, idiot.’
“Neither,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “That is the general idea of a blind date.”
“Sophie said we’d get along,” he shrugged helplessly.
“Anette said we’d have things in common,” Amy agreed with a chuckle.
“That we’re both American?” Laurie guessed dryly.
“That we’re both familiar with Boston actually. Not that it was a selling point,” she shook her head fondly at the mention of her friend. “I didn’t know you were in Paris? I thought I’d heard something about London.”
“You’d heard right. It’s all very new. Just moved a few weeks ago,” he informed her. “I was in London before that. Thought I’d get out of the esteemed James Laurence’s shadow for a bit though.”
“You’re working with your grandfather?” Her face brightened up at the notion. “I genuinely wouldn’t have guessed."
“Been a while now, actually.” He blushed lightly in response as he ducked his head down, absently fiddling with the glass of water in front of him.
“That’s great,” Amy responded with an earnest smile. “It sounds like you found your calling. You always said it was an elusive mistress you would one day conquer.”
“I suppose I finally did, huh,” he murmured, trying to recall the conversations from so long ago that he’d forgotten they had even occurred. He shook his head. “And what are you up to? Has the artist Amy March taken the Parisian art world by storm yet”
“Working on it. While simultaneously working with the Louvre to pay the bills.” She wiggled her eyebrows as she spoke, “I’ve apparently got a great eye for art.”
“Who’d have guessed?” he deadpanned before dissolving into a cheerful chuckle. “That’s great, truly. Y’know, some of Grandpa’s favorite pieces of art remain the ones you helped him choose back when we were in high school?”
“No!” Amy exclaimed in surprise. “Really?”
“I will bet you real money that the next time you two meet, he’ll attempt to solicit an opinion,” Laurie offered confidently.
“I mean, Mr. Laurence does have an exquisite collection, I must admit.”
“And he’s been itching to expand upon it I think,” he thought back upon his grandfather’s recent purchases. “Definitely been picking up some curious pieces.”
“Oh. Well, I mean, he’s always welcome to call me if he wants,” she offered graciously in response. “I’m sure my parents would have told him as much. Do you happen to know what he picked up?”
Thankfully, Laurie thought, a server interrupted their opinion to take their orders for the evening and diverted the conversation before he could disappoint her with his ignorance.
And yet, he felt ruffled as he quickly glanced at the menu he’d disregarded thus far.
“If memory serves me well, you’ll enjoy the smoked salmon,” Amy advised him gently, smothering a chuckle when as she took in his flustered expression.
“On your head be it,” he warned her lightly, before heeding her suggestion, and adding on a simple order of wine alongside it.
“So. Amy March,” he exhaled loudly, after the server had let them be. “Just how long as it been since we last met?”
She scrunched her nose as she tried to do the math. “…A little over five years now? I think the last time was ‘the summer that shan’t be mentioned’.”
“And we’ll continue not mentioning it,” Laurie responded readily before barreling on. “Who’d have thought our reunion would be you, me, and a blind date.”
“Talk about the epitome of fantastical fiction,” she shook her head with a grin, before a curious glint overpowered it. “Why on earth were you set up on a blind date anyway? I’d have thought by now…I mean you’re you.”
“Why’re you resorting to one?” He shot back, amused and simultaneously transported back to their high school years together, when so much had been so very different. “The Amy March I knew was rarely, if ever, without prospects. I hardly doubt that’s changed much.”
“You’d be surprised,” she sounded rueful. “Honestly though, I’ve had a busy couple years. And my flatmate’s a blissfully optimistic romantic living through her relationship’s never-ending honeymoon phase. So it was pretty much forced upon me.”
“I’m new to the city and know exactly two people here…who are dating each other. And well, Sophie thought it was a great way to shove me off the deep end.”
“And you’ve trouble denying assertive, confident women,” Amy nodded her head knowingly.
“Something like that,” His face reddened again at the accusation, a light blush covering his cheeks.
“Well, we can take comfort in knowing that our friends have failed miserably for once, and we can hold it over them,” she responded brightly, as their meals arrived. “So, where does our newest Parisian resident live?”
“Saint-Germain-des-Prés,” he offered. Amy snorted in response.
“What?” He probed curiously. “Something wrong with the neighborhood
“Not at all. It suits you,” she assured him with a chuckle, before turning contemplative. “Well, it would have definitely suited the you I knew five years ago anyway.”
“I don’t think I’ve changed all that much,” he huffed lightly.
Their conversation carried well into dinner, and they even decided to indulge in a spot of dessert. It really was, in Laurie’s opinion, shaping up to be a proper, if unexpected reunion. Five years. To him, it felt like it had barely been five minutes, and yet, a whole lifetime in equal measure.
“I simply cannot believe we haven’t run into each other during the holidays in so long,” Laurie mused as they were making their way through dessert.
“I don’t always make it back home for the holidays,” Amy confessed easily, a natural ease and familiar camaraderie having entered their conversation much earlier on. “Sometimes it’s a work thing. Sometimes, I’m just fiscally responsible. But I’m positive at least one of the Christmases I missed, Jo said you’d been in town.”
“I’ve maybe stopped by Concord for the holidays twice in the last five years or so. I get it,” he assured her. “Life gets in the way sometimes.”
“I am going back this Christmas though,” she volunteered the information with a happy smile. “Mostly.”
“We are too! Grandpa decided on Concord and not in London this year. ”
“Guess this reunion will have a follow up after all.”
“Guess we will,” Laurie side-eyed an annoyed server as he was speaking. “And I believe that, accordingly, reunion number one will come to an end sooner rather than later.”
He wasn’t ready for it to be over, he realized as he was speaking. This hadn’t been the awkward blind date he’d anticipated and had hoped to end quickly. Not even close. What it had instead been was a perfectly pleasant evening, steeped in familiar echoes of his childhood but not stifled by it.
“Oh?”
“I spy with my little eye a server’s glare,” amusement colored his tone as he spoke. “And I do believe that if we don’t leave voluntarily, we’ll never be happily welcomed here again.”
“At least it wasn’t our names on the reservation,” Amy snickered in response before chancing a look at the time and exclaiming in surprise, “It’s really been over three hours!”
“Really?” He was equally surprised.
“Talk about a successful non-date,” she snorted.
“Non-“
Rather unintentionally, he was certain, she barreled over his almost question and barely there frown. “If nothing else, you at least gained one thing from today.”
“Oh?” His interest was piqued, distracting Laurie from his original question.
“You now know exactly three people in Paris,” She offered with a flourish and a bright grin.
“I guess I do,” he agreed, before randomly pondering. “Or maybe I always knew three people in Paris. It’s just that now I’m aware of the fact. The tree in the forest no longer falls silently because I’m aware and there to hear it.”
Amy stared at him.
Laurie started back.
Her eyebrows went up.
His furrowed in response.
“I didn’t really follow any of that so I’m going to blame it on the wine,” she announced finally. “Whether it’s impaired my brain function or yours is an argument I’m not going to have, however.”
“Fair enough,” he nodded agreeably as he flagged down the server. “Dinner’s on me.”
“Or we could simply go dutch,” she protested as he retrieved his wallet.
“Or I could use it as a reason to wheedle another meal out of you in the near future,” he countered easily, slipping some truth into his riposte.
“Deal, but you will actually let me pay the next time,” Amy threatened, sparkle in her eyes as she made her demands.
“Cross my heart,” he promised easily, glad at that the very least, he’d secured a follow-up to dinner.
Why he was suddenly curious about a woman he hadn’t particularly thought of much in almost five years, Laurie wasn’t entirely sure. But he knew that he was, and that he wanted to spend more time with her, maybe figure it out. But at least, he supposed, he was honest with himself. Small steps in the right direction, he told himself, were better than no steps at all.
——
As it so happened, Laurie’s subconscious fear that Amy would vanish from his life before he’d figured out just why she intrigued him were completely unfounded. Oh, he’d still not solved that little mystery and if the weeks after had been any indication, it had only compounded in intrigue. But it had taken a backseat to the very real, and surprisingly tentative friendship that had sprouted between the two of them.
They’d met in towards the end of November. As they’d parted that evening, they’d exchanged numbers and Amy had assured him that she’d whip the tourist tendencies away, making a true Parisian local out of him yet. In the ensuing weeks, they’d met up at least a few times a week, almost definitely every weekend, and carried on a text conversation on a near-daily basis.
In those few short weeks, Laurie had also come to realize that the Amy he knew once and had grown up with wasn’t necessarily the Amy he’d met in Paris. At the very least, the rapport between them was noticeably different. Oh, it was still warm and solid. The foundation, whatever that had once been, still existed. But beyond that, it felt undeniably new and utterly, terrifyingly undefined. He wasn’t necessarily sure why, what that meant, or where they’d end up, but goddamn if he didn’t want to find out.
“So, when are you flying back?” He asked her one afternoon, fully aware that the December holiday weeks was rapidly approaching.
“Mmm?”
It was the Saturday before Christmas, and they were spending the day ticking off another eatery from Amy’s ‘Underrated but Unmissable’ list when he brought it up.
“Seriously,” he pressed as he tapped his fork against his empty plate. “It’s Christmas next Saturday. Surely you’ve booked tickets by now.”
Amy swallowed her food, reaching for a glass of water as she responded. “Yeah. Yeah, of course I have.”
“And?”
“Evening of the 23rd. Return’s the morning of the 2nd.”
Laurie’s eyebrows went up at the coincidence. “Talk about fortuitous planning. That’s my schedule too! Well, my return’s the afternoon of the second, but y’know. We can fly together! At least one way.”
The prospect of traveling together certainly appealed to him, he wasn’t going to lie.
Amy snorted in response. “You’re so certain we’ll be on the same flight?”
“British Airways?” He guessed with a lazy smirk. “Seven in the evening?”
Amy wrinkled her nose as she nodded reluctantly. “Just…how?”
“That’s the only non-stop service from here that evening,” he pointed out. “I took an educated guess.”
“There remains a fatal flaw in your plan nevertheless,” she pointed out, eyebrow arched in response. “Premium Economy’s generally barely in my budget. Do you even know what seats look like beyond Business and First Class?”
“An upgrade’s an easy fix,” he waved off nonchalantly.
“Laurie…” She looked reluctant.
“Really,” he insisted. “I’ve like a shit ton of miles expiring in like, March or something. Consequence of that stupidly indulgent gap year. You’ll be doing me a favor really.”
Laurie wasn’t actually lying in this instance.
He could see that she looked conflicted, so he tacked on another argument, proposing, “It was your birthday what, a week before we met? Call it a delayed birthday present. An upgraded roundtrip.”
“We aren’t flying back on the same flight,” she pointed out.
“An easy fix,” he shrugged it off again.
“An easy fix,” she repeated, shaking her head incredulously.
“You really wouldn’t believe how many miles I’ve expiring soon. It would be wasteful not to use it up really,” he cajoled her.
“Only because they’re expiring,” she relented finally. “And they better be expiring when you say they are. I want proof.”
“As you wish,” he grinned victoriously, already making plans in his head. “Now, did we still want to take a stroll around Le Marais?”
Amy nodded, speaking as they both stood up. “There’s this seasonal hot chocolate stall there that’s a gem. I haven’t been by yet this year.”
“Implying it’s an annual tradition?” Sue him, he was curious.
“He knows me by name and offers me a discount every time we meet,” she grinned proudly, eyes sparkling in mirth. Not that it distracted Laurie. “Sometimes, he even tries to give me complimentary drinks.”
Laurie was skeptical. And concerned. A reasonable reaction where strangers were concerned, he insisted to himself. “Are you sure that’s just not his way of hitting on you?”
She snorted in response. “A seventy-year old man’s a bit out of my preferred range, I think. Now come on. Stop dawdling.”
She pulled at him, intertwining their hands in the process, leaving him to scramble and catch up with her excited stride.
Laurie shook his head, utterly perplexed by so very much of the feelings she elicited in him. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he was going to figure it out.
There was simply something about Amy March…
——
For all intents and purposes, Jo March was Laurie’s best friend. Despite all of Will’s arguments otherwise. His closest friend growing up, Jo March, Laurie had been certain at one point in his life, was his perfect foil. That notion had been all but shattered after three years of university together, when a conflated sense of inevitability and curiosity (admittedly on her part, he had been carrying a torch the size of Everest) had lead to a 35-day relationship that both of them now looked back upon with revulsion. That summer had, in part, gained the infamous moniker of ‘the summer that shan’t be mentioned’ because of their disastrous little experiment.
Their friendship had, however, not only endured through their attempt at a relationship but survived it - something they were both extremely grateful for. And while Laurie had broken away from Massachusetts to explore the world, that friendship had not been a casualty in the process. It had instead settled, with aplomb, as a platonic relationship in his life that he would never have to fathom going without.
His best friend, Laurie was also well aware, had no healthy concept of a circadian rhythm. And so, when she called him that Sunday morning, at a time when he knew she ought to be asleep, Laurie wasn’t entirely surprised.
“Writer’s block?”
“Well, hello to you too, Teddy.”
“You’re up so late it may as well be the crack of dawn,” Laurie pointed out. “I’m pretty sure it will be, soon.”
“Alright fine. I was inspired. Now I’m stuck and restless. I didn’t want to wake Fritz, which going to bed will do. You’re the only one I know who’s awake at this time.”
“Because I live in a completely different timezone.”
“That’s certainly a factor,” Jo snarked.
“Sure. Glad I could be helpful.”
“Ugh. Teddy. I need a distraction,” she whined. “Talk to me. Tell me all the inane details about your life and your confidential company secrets. What capitalist dickhead moves did you indulge in this week?”
Laurie barely gave it a moment’s consideration before he impulsively brought it up. “I’ve actually got an interesting one for you. I caught up with your sister the other day.”
“Meg or Beth?” Jo frowned. “Wait. It can’t be Beth. She’s on some fancy hike where she’s unreachable except by sat phone-”
“It was neither of them,” Laurie responded lightly, cutting her off with a hint. “I’m not the only one you know who’s awake at this time.”
“Neither of them? The only other…Not…You ran into Amy?” Jo eventually reached her conclusion. “Huh.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How’d it go?” Jo strained to keep her voice nonchalant as she spoke.
Laurie frowned in response, immediately suspicious. “It completely slipped my mind that she was still living in Paris,” he eventually answered. “It went alright though. We’ve caught up a few times since.”
“Really? Huh. How ‘bout that.”
“Jo.” He was frustrated. “What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing,” she shook her head immediately. “Nothing at all.”
“Jo…”
“I just hadn’t heard you two had met. Surprises me. That’s all.”
“I was under the impression you and Amy didn’t chat all that often anyway,” he arched an eyebrow in question, even if he knew she wasn’t telling him the whole story.
“From Meg,” Jo clarified. “You know she’s usually my source of information if not Marmee."
“Of course,” he snorted. “And how often do you chat with Meg?”
“Often enough,” Jo huffed. “And she calls me with the gossip.”.
“Well, how would you like to be the source of gossip for once?”
“What do you mean?” Jo narrowed her eyes in suspicion.
“Guess who’re flying home for Christmas together!”
“You can’t-“ Jo sputtered in disbelief. “Teddy, you haven’t flown Economy in your life!”
“That is simply untrue,” Laurie hotly argued. “Some flights I’ve been on never had anything but.”
She simply snorted in response, giving him a knowing look.
“I’m using my miles to upgrade her tickets,” he shrugged eventually, deciding that this particular recurring argument was unnecessary today. “Long overdue birthday present and all that.”
“I’d like to see you try convincing Dad and Marmee with that argument,” she shook her head.
“I mean, I convinced your sister,” Laurie raised an eyebrow.
“I mean,” Jo snorted again. “That was Amy.”
It was his turn to affect a suspicious expression, Laurie figured. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” she shrugged carelessly. “It’s Amy. She likes her things expensive. There’s a reason she gets along with Aunt March.”
“I’d have thought you’d have a better opinion of your sister,” Laurie argued, an urge to defend Amy coming to the fore.
“I do!” Jo protested. “You can be a good person but also err on the side of materialistic. If anything, she’s proof of concept.”
“She’s…” He shook his head in disbelief. “I thought you two got along better now. That the distance and time helped.”
“We do,” she argued. “But we also take shots at each other. We’re siblings. It’s in the contract. Ask her about my flaws sometime.”
He snorted in response.
“I swear to god. Ask her. She has this whole lecture on networking, social capital, and how I can’t help but squander mine. It’ll remind you of Aunt March.” Jo shuddered lightly.
Laurie smothered a chuckle. “Now I actually want to go do exactly that.”
“I strongly suggest alcohol. Any kind pairs well with the lecture,” she let him know seriously. “In fact, it’s a goddamn necessity.”
“I’ll keep that in mind” Laurie assured her, the laughter finally overpowering his attempt at smothering it. “On that note, I think you should try getting some sleep now.”
“Before the sun comes up,” Jo rolled her eyes as she spoke. “Yeah. Yeah. I’ve heard this one before.”
“Maybe some sleep hygiene would mean you never hear it again,” he suggested lightly.
“Where’s the Teddy who went thirty hours with no sleep and a Red Bull addiction? I miss him.”
“He had a year-long party and retired at the end of it,” Laurie informed her dryly. “Went out before he could cause irreparable damage.”
“Well, he is well and truly mourned,” she sniffed haughtily.
“Good Night, Jo.”
“Yeah, yeah. Good Night Teddy. I’ll see you at Christmas.”
“I’ll see you at Christmas,” he mumbled in response to a blank phone screen, before looking around for his laptop and texting Amy for her ticket information.
‘Time to upgrade some tickets.’
——
At Amy’s firm request, her family had reluctantly agreed to meet her at home instead of the airport. It had been, Laurie had learned, almost a year and a half since her last visit.
This meant that they’d had a contingent of Marches waiting to greet them as the car turned into his driveway, even though it was almost eleven in the night when they reached their homes in Concord. He’d been greeted with the relatively same exuberance Amy had been greeted with, the familial familiarity long since having become norm with the Marches. Rather mercifully, however, they’d been conscious of the weary travelers and kept it short, insisting on a good night’s rest and a breakfast reunion on the morrow instead.
Over the next few days, Laurie realized he found it rather strange that he’d suddenly gone from near-constant contact with Amy to almost none overnight, instead simply meeting where they happened to cross paths. Admittedly, Jo had been happy to monopolize her best friend’s time, given that they didn’t meet in-person quite as often as they did growing up together, and he simply assumed Amy had thought as much. And of course, Amy surely had her own life in Concord to catch up with.
Nevertheless, he was determined to course-correct, even if only marginally. And so, he found himself walking into the March kitchen the morning after the 26th, looking for the youngest March sibling.
“Morning Marmee,” he greeted the matriarch as he entered the room, furtively glancing around the room for Amy.
“Morning Laurie,” Marmee welcomed him with a bright smile that turned mildly apologetic. “Jo’s not home. She and Fritz took off together a bit ago. A stroll, I think?”
“Oh, no.” A sheepish expression colored his face. “I wasn’t looking for Jo.”
“Oh,” Marmee looked politely confused. “I thought you two would want to discuss Peru in more detail. I think you’re a bit early for lunch?”
“Peru’s ages away,” Laurie shook his head. “We’ll find the time for that. I was actually hoping to find Amy.”
“Amy?”
He nodded, bringing up the only realistic excuse he’d been able to come up with. “I wanted to settle this argument we were having about cinnamon rolls.”
“Oh?” Marmee’s confusion had turned to amusement. In Laurie’s defense, he wasn’t actually lying.
“She disparaged my go-to bakery in Concord and I just cannot let that stand. You understand, Marmee.”
“Of course,” Marmee chuckled. “I’d heard you two had caught up in Paris. Didn’t realize you’d already begun arguing again.”
“We never argued much back in the day,” Laurie protested good-naturedly. “At least, not as much as Jo and I did.”
“You argued more often with Jo,” she said agreeably, “but your most explosive arguments were usually with Amy. Rare as they were.”
“Huh.” That was news to him, honestly. But now that he thought about it…
“She’s in the living room with the twins,” Marmee nodded in the direction, interrupting his internal ruminations.
“Thanks Marmee!”
He made his way, navigating the familiar March house, stopping just outside the entrance to the living room when he caught sight of Amy.
She’d really grown up, he realized suddenly (and honestly, wasn’t this becoming a trip full of epiphanies that took him by surprise), watching her running after the twins, alight with bright laughter and the most unguarded expression he’d seen on her face since their reunion in Paris.
He could (and did) compare it directly to scenes from their childhood where a much younger Amy had run after Jo and him in almost similar fashion. But Laurie could no longer look at her and see Jo’s baby sister first. She’d grown up to be a beautiful, magnetic woman in her own right.
“Laurie!” Amy’s surprised greeting broke his reverie.
“Amy,” he greeted her with a smile, before swooping in and picking up one of the twins.
“Demi. Daisy,” He greeted the four-year olds warmly.
“What are you doing here? Jo’s not-“
“Not here,” Laurie interrupted her, nodding. “Marmee told me. I was looking for you, actually.”
“Oh?” She arched an eyebrow in question.
“You disparaged Sinnamon. I intend to make you eat your words. Literally.”
Amy burst out laughing. “Laurie, that was weeks ago!”
“And you disparaged my good word. I demand satisfaction m’lady.”
It was ever so easy to fall back into childhood dramatics when they were all back home.
“The Pickwick Club’s no longer in session you know,” Amy informed him, mirth shining through her eyes.
“But Sinnamon’s still open.”
“Sinfully delightful cinnamon treats,” Amy recited their tagline from memory. “I can’t believe that place still exists.”
“I can’t believe you no longer think it sells the best cinnamon roll you can eat. Shall we?”
“I mean, if you want to lose our argument so thoroughly,” she generously offered. “Let me just find Meg or John before we leave.”
“John was out back, I think,” Laurie let her know. “We can drop the twins off on our way out.”
The walk up to the bakery was rather pleasant, reuniting Laurie with the (wonderfully) new normal that had pervaded his life in Paris and that he’d missed in his short time in Concord.
Laurie didn’t think he’d ever been so perplexed by his emotions.
“I will admit I’ve had worse,” Amy eventually conceded when they’d gotten their hand on a selection of pasties.
Laurie sputtered. “We’ve all had worse! We went to the same schools remember? Same bake sales too.”
“C’mon. You’ve got to admit that even that little hole in the wall near my place bakes better,” Amy argued in a reasonable tone.
“That ‘little hole in the wall’ near your place is a centuries-old family business!”
“The cinnamon coffee brownies are rather nice here?”
“‘The cinnamon coffee brownies are rather nice here - Amy March, renowned Parisian artist-to-be.’ Glowing review there, Amy.”
Amy shook her head with a chuckle. “Is it my fault you’re emotionally biased when it comes to Sinnamon?”
“And just how am I emotionally biased?”
“You find it comforting. This was your post-breakup spot,” she shrugged nonchalantly. “At least, through high school. If you were wallowing, this is where we’d find you.”
“That can’t be true,” Laurie shook his head in denial.
“Every single one I can remember,” Amy insisted. “Sharon in sixth grade. Carmen in eighth grade. Nicole and Penny in ninth-“
“Okay,” he interrupted her. “Okay. I don’t think we need to rehash every failed romance in my life, thank you very much. How do you even remember it this well?”
“Jo can’t keep a secret to save her life. So she’d let us know almost immediately every time. I’d usually find you here after and we’d go to the movies.”
Now that he thought about it…
“Or rent a movie if nothing funny was on,” he recalled softly. “I remember that.”
“Speaking of Jo,” Amy changed topics abruptly. “I heard you two planning quite the trip for next year.”
“We’re slowly finishing off our old bucket list,” Laurie explained, nodding. “Machu Picchu was always on it. So was The Lost City. We figured we’d get around to at least one of it next year.”
“And Peru won out.”
“Well, I mean, hopefully. We aren’t going any time soon. Next October, maybe. It’s just so hard to have our schedules align now that we’ve adult responsibilities.” He made a face at that awfully depressing statement. “Planning it early enough means we can at least block out the time.”
“And how is our dear Fritz feeling about the exclusion?”
“He’s thrilled, honestly,” Laurie chuckled. “I rather think hiking is the last thing he wants to do. The Lost City’s like 28 miles on foot or something like that. He was definitely more than happy to be missing that potential trip.” He grinned at her brightly. “Why? You want to join us?”
Amy snorted in response. “You and Jo? I’d probably become a murderer before that trip ends.”
“Ah, but who’d be your first victim?”
She gave him a coy smirk. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“You can tell me it’s Jo,” he goaded her playfully. “I know you like me too much to kill me.”
“You’d stake your life on that belief?” Amy arched an eyebrow in question, amused.
Laurie gave her a smirk of his own.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
The rest of the holidays passed on in similar fashion. If they weren’t all spending time together, he was usually planning his trip with Jo. Every now and then, he managed to snag some time with Amy. Aunt March had made an appearance (her relationship with the Marches apparently on the mend after a rough patch he hadn’t heard about). The whole younger brood went out on the town, ringing in New Years Eve in all its festive glory (the twins safely tucked away at home with their grandparents).
And just like that, before he knew it, the holidays had come to an end, and along with it, their time in Concord for the foreseeable future.