A Christmas to Remember (14 page)

“McAllister,” Emily reminded her. “Mother, I have no problem with Sara’s decision. I like Luke. I respect him and the work he’s done. Some people would say it took tremendous courage and dedication to leave the police force and start up New Horizons in this town.”

“Oh, poppycock! Some people don’t have to stand back and see their granddaughter married to him.”

Emily was momentarily taken aback. It was the first time she had ever heard Lillian acknowledge Sara as her granddaughter, but she didn’t want to make a big thing out of it and excite Lillian even more.

“Mother, please try to calm down. Luke has a good head on his shoulders and a good future.”

“Besides all that, they love each other.” Dan had Jane sitting on his lap again, playing with a cloth napkin.

“Love! What do they know about love? They’ve been swept away by hormones. Believe me, I know.”

Emily glanced at Dan, hiding her laughter. She couldn’t imagine her mother swept away by anything, even a hurricane.

“I see you laughing, Emily. Well, I was young once, too.” Lillian let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I need to go back to my room now. This has all been too much for me.”

Dan put Jane down and rose to help Lillian. He turned the wheelchair and steered Lillian back to her room. Emily followed, holding Jane by the hand as she toddled down the hallway.

Jeanette came out of the kitchen and followed the parade. When they arrived in Lillian’s room, Jeanette dropped the side of the wheelchair and maneuvered Lillian onto her bed. She took off her shoes and covered her with a blanket. Lillian waved her good hand at them and closed her eyes, clearly a signal that she wished they would all go away.

Emily realized that the situation with Sara hadn’t been resolved. Would Lillian allow Luke to come tonight with Sara? She hadn’t gotten a clear answer and realized she wasn’t going to get one. She would tell Sara that Lillian knew about the marriage—and Sara could come tonight with Luke at her own risk.

Newburyport, August 1955

T
HE
W
ARWICKS WERE OVERWHELMING
. E
VERYONE SPOKE QUICKLY
and out of turn. Lillian could barely keep up. Oliver seemed quiet and sedate in comparison. Which was saying a lot.

Lillian’s family was well off; her parents employed a housekeeper, a cook, and a maid. But the Warwick family employed a large staff of servants. The meal was served by two housemaids and a butler in a large dining room with a long banquet table. French doors on the far end opened to a beautiful view of the gardens behind the house and farther on, the sloping property and water.

Lillian had grown up in a fine home on Boston’s Beacon Hill, but Lilac Hall was in another class altogether. It was like a castle out of a picture book—or like one of the great houses she had once visited in England’s Lake District.

It was hard to imagine Oliver growing up amidst all this luxury. On one hand, he seemed the cliché of a spoiled, wealthy bachelor but on the other, he often seemed so natural and unpretentious that she could almost mistake him for a “regular guy.”

“So, you have family in Newburyport, Lillian?” Oliver’s mother, Alice, smiled across the table. Petite, with a youthful face and figure, she wasn’t what Lillian had expected. She looked nothing like Oliver, except for her dimples. She dressed well, Lillian thought, save for some pieces of jewelry—several large rings and a diamond and emerald pin—that Lillian found ostentatious.

“My father’s brother and his family live in Newburyport. On Camden Street.”

“Camden Street? Oh, yes, nice neighborhood.” Oliver’s father, Harrison Warwick, looked like an older, stockier version of Oliver, though bald on top and without the dimples.

“I met a fellow named Merchant once, down in Pittsburgh. Dealt in scrap metals. I was doing some business there during the war. No relation to you, I suppose?”

Pittsburgh? Scrap metals? Not very likely.

“Not that I know of,” Lillian said quietly. “My uncle is a banker. My father is, too,” she added.

“Banking. There’s a racket for you. Don’t tell me about bankers—”

“Harry, please,” Alice Warwick said. “Lillian doesn’t want to talk about the business world, do you, dear?” Alice nodded at her before she could answer. “Tell us about yourself, Lillian. Oliver said you work in a museum?”

“At the Museum of Fine Arts. I work with Egyptian art. I help plan exhibits and evaluate private collections, or I might be asked to study a piece and write about it.”

“How exciting,” Alice practically trilled.

It wasn’t really exciting work, Lillian thought. It was often very tedious and exacting, but she didn’t bother to correct Mrs. Warwick’s impression.

“She might be too smart for you, Oliver,” Harry said with a sly wink.

“I can keep up so far,” Oliver replied with a smile.

Despite the warm weather, the Warwicks had served a large lunch: cold cucumber soup, baked cod, potatoes au gratin, and steamed asparagus. Lillian couldn’t even eat half of it. The entire situation made her so nervous, she had lost her appetite.

“I love museums, I love the arts,” Alice said brightly. “We support the arts, don’t we, Harry?”

Oliver’s father nodded, like an obedient, old dog. “Yes, we do. Every chance Alice gets. I have the cancelled checks to prove it.”

“Oh, Harry. Don’t mind him.” Alice turned to Lillian again. “He’s really very cultured. He doesn’t like to show it though.”

He does an excellent job of hiding it
, Lillian thought.

“Someday I would love to sponsor a festival of the arts for our town. Right here, at Lilac Hall,” Alice spoke excitedly, gesturing with her jewel-covered hands. “We could have dance and theater…and an exhibit of paintings, of course. Wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“Yes, it would be. It’s a beautiful setting.” Lillian wondered if Alice Warwick was sincere or just a wealthy woman caught up in a momentary enthusiasm.

Or perhaps she’s trying to impress me
, Lillian thought. Though she couldn’t imagine why that should be. If anything, it should be the other way around. Alice doted on Oliver. She probably thought that no woman was good enough for him.

The servants started clearing the plates.

“Just a moment,” Alice said to the maid who was removing the
platter of potatoes from the sideboard. “Ollie, would you like some more potatoes, dear? I had the cook prepare them your favorite way.”

“No, thank you, Mother. I’ve had more than enough.”

“Oh, all right. You can clear everything, Mary.” Turning to Lillian, she added, “I have to keep after Oliver to eat right. He doesn’t take care of himself. He needs a good wife to watch over him.”

A good wife? Good heavens, does she mean me?

“When he came home from the army, he was skin and bones. It frightened me to death.”

Oliver laughed. “Mother, that was ten years ago. I’ve put on a few pounds since.”

“Yes, you’ve filled out nicely,” she agreed. “That was a hard time for us. At least one of my boys came home—” Her eyes suddenly became glassy with unshed tears, and she covered her mouth with her hand.

Harry pulled a snow-white hanky from his pocket and handed it to his wife. He reached over to pat her hand. “We know you miss him, dear. We all miss him. That’s the sacrifice we have to bear.”

Oliver turned to Lillian. “My older brother, Harry, Jr. He was in the army, too. He died in Italy.” He looked down a moment. “I didn’t tell you that about Harry. I’m sorry…it’s hard for me to talk about.”

Lillian felt a shock of sadness. Oliver had told her his older brother had once pulled him out of the surf. But had never mentioned he’d died in the war. She saw him suddenly with his defenses down, and her heart went out to him and his family.

The maids served coffee from a silver service and small blueberry tarts on china dessert plates.

Alice composed herself. “These are fresh blueberries, gathered right here on the property. We have loads of blueberry bushes in
the meadow. Oliver—and Harry—used to pick buckets full when they were little boys. They would come home with their hands and lips all stained purple, remember dear?”

“I remember, Mother. My manners have improved somewhat since,” he assured Lillian. “I rarely graze out in the meadow anymore. Only when I’m very hungry.”

Lillian had to laugh. “I hope not.”

She took a bit of the pastry. The berries were tart and sweet at the same time. She could easily picture a young Oliver roaming this huge estate in summertime, barefoot and daring.

Finally the meal came to an end, and Alice encouraged Oliver to take Lillian for a walk around the property. Oliver led her out through French doors that opened to a brick patio, shaded by a large vine-covered arbor.

A path led down to a rose garden, enclosed by high stone walls. Long rows of rose bushes in every variety and color were in full bloom, their scent perfuming the warm, humid air. A beautiful stone fountain stood in the center of the garden.

“My mother spends a lot of time out here. She’s a good gardener. Loves roses, but dahlias are her real passion,” Oliver confided. “She’s very competitive at the local flower show. You can hardly speak to her the week before. Do you like gardening, Lillian?”

“I like flowers. We don’t have much of a garden at home, though. I can’t say I ever tried.”

“My mother will teach you. She’ll be happy to,” he added.

Lillian fixed him with a skeptical look. She wasn’t sure when these horticulture lessons where going to take place but thought it best to let the comment pass for now.

The rose garden was hot and sunny. Lillian was relieved to pass
through the far gate and onto a wide gravel path, bordered by high shady trees on either side.

“What do you think of my family?” Oliver asked.

“They seem very nice.” Lillian wasn’t sure what to say. “I’m sorry about your brother,” she said sincerely. “That’s a huge loss.”

“Yes, it is. I looked up to Harry. I thought he was…indestructible. It’s hard to believe I was the one who came back and he didn’t. I’ve often wished it had turned out the other way around.”

“That’s a very selfless wish.”

Oliver shrugged. “It would have been easier for everyone that way. Harry was my parents’ favorite, the good son. I’m not saying they don’t love me; sometimes I think they love me too much. It’s just that I’ve always been more trouble for them. Harry never gave them a moment’s worry. He was more like my father, though even more conservative. He was going to take over the family business.”

“And now?” Lillian asked, curious.

“I never planned on staying here, but now I feel obliged to. Even though my father has qualms about my aptitude to run things. So do I, for that matter.”

His honesty and winsome smile moved her someplace deep inside. He took her hand and she didn’t resist. They continued walking down the alley of tall trees, leafy branches arching high overhead, like a thick green canopy.

Lillian understood things a little better now. Oliver felt pressured to please his parents, to fill the gap left by his older brother. Maybe he even felt pressured to settle down and get married again.

They turned a bend on the path, and Lillian spotted Lilac Hall through a gap in the trees. It was set on a hill overlooking a sweeping meadow, the woods beyond and the dark blue harbor beyond
that. It would be hard to imagine a more beautiful setting. Or a more beautiful home.

“How old is the mansion?” she asked Oliver.

“My father built it after the first war. It’s a copy of a great house in Europe. He imported all the stones from Belgium—even those gargoyles peering over the rooftop—had them brought over on a ship. He brought the stone masons, too. My mother was the one who decided it would be called Lilac Hall, though. She had about a hundred lilac bushes planted on the main drive…over there, see?”

He put his arm around her shoulder and pointed. Lillian nodded, though she didn’t really see what he was talking about. She was too conscious of his touch and his sudden nearness to care about a hedge of lilacs.

“It’s quite a sight when they bloom in the spring.”

“I can imagine.”

He finally stepped away and took her hand again, and they continued walking. Lillian felt her head clear, but not completely.

He turned to her. “What do you think of the house, Lily? Does it meet with your approval?”

“It’s stunning. I’ve always wanted to see the inside,” she confessed.

Lillian had often seen the mansion from a distance and had heard about the grandeur of the house and estate. It was an unexpected thrill to see it all firsthand.

“I’m glad you like it. I thought we would live here once we’re married. We’ll have our own wing, plenty of privacy.” He gestured with his hand, pointing out the section of the house he was referring to.

Lillian was dumbstruck for a moment then felt annoyed at
him. “You have to stop talking like that, Oliver. It’s just…nonsense, that’s all.”

Oliver didn’t debate with her. “My parents like you, I can tell they do. Especially my mother.”