It took her nearly half an hour to arrive at the cottage.

The last row of streetlights finished even before Nora reached the enormous stables, noticing with pleasure how the old Count, probably to give a more authentic, and romantic soul to his castle, changed the electric lights she remembered from before to torches mounted on the stone walls of the building where the horses were sheltered.

And once she walked beyond, she was plunged into the night and had to pause to give her eyes time to adapt to the blackness, watching it dissipate slowly, fade into a silvery-grey hue she could see through quite well. The full moon hung low above the forest growing in a semi-circle around a vast meadow, outlining the ink-blue trees in silver. Its light reflecting off the uneven patches of old snow was strong enough, and helped Nora to find the winding trail leading to the house without having to use a torch. As she traced it with her eyes she found the white cottage, her new home, nestled at its end, glowing eerily, waiting for her like a white ghost of the wintry night at the very foot of the deep blue forest.

Nora felt both... elated and frightened as she watched the small, white building perched high on the hill, expecting her. She loved the place, couldn't wait for the moment to walk within its ancient walls... But why did she come back? How could she leave everything behind, her life, her job, her friends... What was she going to do here now, all alone in this... wilderness?

An owl hooted in the trees somewhere too close for comfort, startling her, sending her on her way up the moonlit meadow, reminding her that it was too late for misgivings now. She sighed with relief when she finally reached the house. It really had been a long journey. And now that she was finally here, there was no more time, nor space left for second-guessing her decision. Her new life was here, starting today, and she was determined to make the best of it.

Nora looked around after she climbed the five steps leading to the porch, searching her handbag for keys. The view was splendid-- the light of the moon made the world look silvery and shiny, precious. She could see the whole sloping meadow covered in places in frozen snow, the ancient torch-lit stables to her left, far away and deep below, and to her right, a little further down than the stables, the castle, glimmering like a diamond in the night.

Her eyes filled with tears; this was the most picturesque place in the world. Sighing again, she turned her back to the view once she found her keys. She wasn't sure at all that she would find the interior of her new house as beautiful as the world surrounding it. Nora remembered well her grandmother's long list of adjustments and repairs she had meant to do on the cottage before she passed away, never getting to do half of them. When Nora was here last, two years ago, the house was in a dire need of some tender love and care. And as it was Mother who never liked this place, who closed it and kept the keys for Nora after her grandmother had passed, Nora wasn't expecting miracles...

However, the key turned easily in the lock and even before she stepped inside she noticed a large pile of wood for the three fireplaces of the cottage by the door. The plank with a hole in the floor of the porch next to the swing bench had been replaced, and the entire house seemed too bright, as if it had been painted recently.

Has Mother asked someone to prepare the house for her? It was a little out of character for her step-mother, but no one else knew about Nora's decision to come back.

She pushed the door open and reached for a light switch, not sure at all that the bills had been paid. The thought of spending the night without running water, heat or electricity had been nagging at her mind throughout the journey. But Mother got her so upset that she ran from her place in minutes, not in the mood to ask anything. She was sure that she would find candles and matches somewhere in the house, and the closest thermal lake was not far should she need some water. Moreover, thanks to someone, the porch was full of wood so she wouldn't be cold...

Much to her surprise, the lights came on, illuminating the large, open-space ground floor of the cottage-- the sitting area with a sofa and a coffee table facing the floor-to-ceiling window offering the view of the meadow and the castle to her right, a kitchenette to her left, a small bathroom under the white wooden staircase which led upstairs, to the only two bedrooms of the cottage, at the back.

She turned around in wonder. This wasn't how she imagined to find the place after two years during which it had been shut. It was too clean, the air filling the ancient house too fresh and scented-- it smelled like carnations. Looking around one more time she found a bunch of dark pink carnations, her grandma's favourite flowers, on a small round table holding a stained glass reading lamp, half-hidden behind the white sofa.

"Thanks, Clelia," Nora said to the empty room, smiling to herself as she solved the mystery. It wasn't Mother; it must have been Clelia, grandma's distant cousin and Nora's godmother, who took care of the cottage in her absence. She would pass by Clelia's bookshop in the town and thank her, first think in the morning.

Nora dropped her bags at the entrance and brought in an armful of wood from the porch, depositing it in a large basket placed behind the front door-- the cottage may be clean but it wasn't warm. She locked the door then and took her shoes and coat off, found a pair of slippers in a low cupboard under a large mirror by the door, then picked up the wood-filled basket and crossed the room towards the fireplace. It took her mere minutes to kindle a lively fire, its tall, bright, hissing flames making the electric lights unnecessary. In no time the ground floor was pleasantly warm, a system of pipes her grandma had installed years ago distributing some heat throughout the cottage. Each of the bedrooms had its own fireplace, and Nora walked up the stairs to tend to the one in her old room.

The memories of her childhood that had been lurking at the outskirts of her mind since she had left Albert in the distant parking lot, flaring when she met the reindeer man, now blazed like the fires in the fireplaces. It was as if they were imprinted in the walls of the cottage, there was no escaping them.

The moment she got the fire burning in her room, she opened the drawers of her bedside table which stood next to her princess-worthy canopy bed, finding all her things as she had left them-- her sketchbook and paints, a few photographs which she stuffed, without looking at them, under a wooden case containing her brushes, the notebook where she used to scribble her ideas when she still dreamed of becoming a writer, her old diary...

Heart pounding, Nora closed the drawer quickly. It was... too much. Seeing how grandma had kept her room unchanged since she had been in her late teens and life and Mother forced her to accept the adult existence she had never asked for, brought fresh tears in her eyes. She didn't remember her father much, her mum even less, but she was sure that they and grandma were the only people who ever really loved her. Now all dead. She was... alone in the world. She could not change that, bring them back to life... But they would want her to be happy. She would try to find her happiness for them.

Her godmother would want her to be happy too, even though she had never been around much in the past, Nora thought, remembering Clelia when her eyes fell on the long row of her most favourite books lined up on the mantelpiece as she added a new piece of wood to the fire, before heading back downstairs, to refill her basket with wood and get her luggage.

She would visit Clelia in her bookshop tomorrow. But right now she needed to see if she could fix a supper from the food she had brought, take a shower and get a good, long sleep under the crisp and fresh sheets and the soft blankets of her bed. She was feeling exhausted and emotional, and to start her new life well, she would need all her strength and courage.