A Christmas to Remember (27 page)

Lillian recognized her father’s handwriting immediately. Oliver had not come downstairs yet, and she went into a small study to read it.

She tore the envelope open. It was a short letter, surprisingly brief, she thought, looking over the single page before she began to read it.

She didn’t need to read much. The first few lines told the entire story.

Oliver found her with her face covered by her hands, sobbing quietly. Wordlessly, he put his arms around her.

“Lily, sweet Lily. Don’t cry. At least we’ll always have each other.”

Cape Light, Late December, Present-day

L
ILLIAN WOKE UP TO FIND THE CURTAINS OPEN AND
S
ARA SITTING
beside her bed. She squinted at her granddaughter, unaccustomed
to the light. “What do you have in your hand? What are you doing with that?”

“I’m sorry. Everything had fallen out of the box onto your bed. I picked it up and…I couldn’t help reading it.”

Lillian pushed herself up and sat back against the pillows. “There’s no excuse for reading other people’s letters and private papers. You had no right to do that.”

Sara carefully placed the brittle pages on Lillian’s bedside table. “Yes, I know. I wouldn’t want anyone reading my journals, not even fifty years from now.”

Lillian leaned back and scowled. “Maybe I need a little metal safe under the bed.”

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.” Sara sat forward and tried to catch her grandmother’s eye. “But Lillian, since I did read it, I was wondering…what happened with your family? Did you ever make up with them?”

Lillian glanced at her, then stared straight ahead. “They never forgave me. After a while, I gave up asking. I was for the most part, happy in my marriage, content in the life I made with your grandfather. After a while…it didn’t hurt nearly as much.

“I saw Charlotte occasionally, until she moved to California. I saw my little sister Beth, too, every once in a while. I missed her the most. She was the only one in my entire family who really loved me. And I loved her.”

“What happened to her?” Sara had heard some of this story, but not much about Beth.

“She died when she was a little older than you are now. Car accident,” Lillian said sadly. “I didn’t find out until it was too late to attend the funeral. There was no way to find out if she ever left word for me. I will always miss her.”

“How sad for you. The whole story is very sad,” Sara said.

“I missed my family terribly at first. But I made my choice. I was very happy in my marriage for many years and enjoyed a privileged life as Oliver’s wife—until our big disaster struck. But that’s another story,” she added.

Lillian shook her head, as if clearing her thoughts. “I have no regrets, really. People have fared much worse than I. I’ve lived a full life and I knew true love. I have two daughters whom I’m proud of…and now you,” she added quietly.

Sara smiled, surprised and pleased at her grandmother’s rare moment of recognition.

“And your other grandchildren, too,” Sara said. “The little ones. It’s quite a crew.”

“Yes, quite a crew. Well, only time will tell about the little rug rats. I don’t find children very interesting until you can have an intelligent conversation with them. It’s a lot of whining and nose wiping until then.”

Sara grinned at her grandmother’s typical honesty. Lillian would never pretend to be the doting grandma, that was for sure.

“I was wondering, are there any pictures in your box of that party at Lilac Hall?”

“How do you know what’s in that box?”

“I don’t. I’m only asking. I saw some pictures on the bed and put them back in there. I thought maybe you had one of the party.”

With a great show of reluctance, Lillian opened her secret box. She riffled through it a moment, then produced a photo which she handed to Sara.

“That’s Oliver and me, in the entryway. Those are all exotic flowers. His mother had an arbor built inside the house. She even had a flock of doves released at midnight, at the champagne toast. She had an artistic streak, you might say. It was quite spectacular.”

Sara had to agree. Even from the small, faded photo she could see that the party had been lavish and truly spectacular.

“Lillian, have you thought any more about letting us have our wedding celebration here, in your house?”

Lillian sat back and sniffed. “Yes, I have, as a matter of fact. I think it would be a great deal of trouble, a great wear and tear on this house and my possessions, Sara. Not to mention, a great wear on me, personally…”

“Oh. Well…I understand.” Sara nodded, feeling her heart fall.

“But if it means that much to you and the others, I suppose I can agree,” she concluded. “Reverend Ben’s been encouraging me to be a kinder and gentler person. I suppose it would be some effort in that direction.”

Sara jumped out of her chair and hugged her grandmother.

Lillian sat stiffly, barely tolerating the physical contact. “Now, now. I will only go along within certain guidelines. I hope you understand that.”

Sara stepped back, smiling. “I understand. Whatever you say, goes.”

Lillian rolled her eyes. “I sincerely doubt that. Not once your mother gets into the act. She’ll have the Shanghai Circus in my living room.”

“I wouldn’t want anything like that at my celebration. Maybe just a flock of doves released at midnight,” Sara teased.

Lillian winced. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!”

S
ARA MET
E
MILY THE NEXT DAY FOR LUNCH AT THE
C
LAM
B
OX
and sprang the news. “Here’s what we’d like to do for our celebration. We’d like to have a big party at Lillian’s house. You know how
we’ve been putting off planning it until we knew she could attend? Well, this solves the problem.”

Emily nearly choked on her sandwich. “Your grandmother’s house? Does she know about this?”

“She’s given her okay. As long we work within certain
guidelines.
”

“How in heaven’s name did you ever get her to agree to that? Does she know what you meant—a big party, a lot like a wedding?”

“It wasn’t nearly as difficult as you might guess. I had asked her to think about it. Then we got to talking about the past. I read some pages from this diary she kept when she was first married. She wrote about this wonderful party that her in-laws gave when she first became a Warwick. I have a feeling that thinking about those memories softened her up a bit,” Sara admitted.

“Sounds like you got into the mysterious box. Did you actually look inside without her permission?” Emily gave a low laugh. “That was very daring of you.”

“A few things fell out on the bed. I almost couldn’t help it.” Sara still wasn’t very proud of snooping, but Lillian hadn’t made that much of a fuss about it.

“I would love to have a look in that box someday myself,” Emily admitted.

“Maybe you should ask her sometime and she’ll show it to you.”

“Maybe I should.” Emily smiled at Sara, looking pleased by the news. “How does Luke feel about this? Does he want to have a party there?”

“Well, he did say we could hold off until the fall and make it a Halloween wedding. He was just kidding,” she added quickly. “He makes jokes about it but he likes that house. He’s already done so much painting and fixing up, we wouldn’t have to do much more.”

“It could be a spectacular setting,” Emily agreed. Her eyes narrowed. “And you said you weren’t into this wedding planning stuff, that it totally terrifies you. What happened to that girl?”

Sara grinned and sipped her tea. “I guess I’ve been bitten by the bride-bug.”

Emily laughed. “Better late than never. Sounds like we have our work cut out for us. Let’s call Molly Willoughby. She’ll know what to do.”

Molly was Sam Morgan’s younger sister, Jessica’s sister-in-law, who ran her own gourmet food shop and catering business, and planned all the best parties in town.

“And Sara,” Emily added, “I think it’s wonderful that you’re so concerned about your grandmother. You’ve devoted so much time to her lately and made sure she was part of your celebration. Truthfully, after the way she’s treated you and Luke at times, I’m not sure she deserves so much loyalty. I’m not sure she appreciates it, either…but
I
do.”

Sara met Emily’s glance and nodded. “Lillian doesn’t say much, but I think she does appreciate it.”

L
UCY NOTICED
E
MILY AND
S
ARA HAVING LUNCH BUT DIDN
’
T WALK
over to their table. Instead, she waved from a distance, pretending to be too busy to stop and chat.

Ironically, just when they were no longer desperate for extra help, Charlie had found a good waitress willing to work part-time for the meager wages he offered. Even though Lucy wasn’t continuing school, he thought it was best to start the woman and see if it worked out, saying they could always use reliable extra help.

So the new waitress, Karen, had waited on Emily and Sara. Soon enough, Lucy saw them go. She felt bad that she had avoided
her friend, but Sara still didn’t know she had quit school and for some reason, of all the people Lucy knew, it seemed hardest to tell Sara. Maybe because Sara was the one who helped her apply to colleges and encouraged her to start.

She knew Sara would be disappointed in her. She wouldn’t understand, and Lucy couldn’t bear to see that disappointed look in anyone else’s eyes.

Karen left soon after the lunch rush was over. Charlie took the slack time for his daily trip to the bank. Lucy wandered around the diner, collecting all the salt and pepper shakers to be refilled. It was a boring chore that she normally didn’t mind. But for some reason, today it annoyed her. It made her feel as if she was frittering her life away with trivial, meaningless tasks.

The bell above the door jangled, and Lucy looked up to see who was coming in. She felt a catch in her throat and stood up straight. Jack Zabriskie. She couldn’t believe it.

He looked around the diner and took a seat at the counter. He hadn’t seen her; Lucy had an impulse to run into the kitchen and hide.

Then he looked her way and waved. She hesitated a moment before grabbing a menu and starting toward him. She wished she had had a minute to fix her hair and put on a little lipstick. And her uniform was smeared with ketchup and burger grease. How attractive.

Lucy sighed, resigned. There was no help for it. He was going to see exactly what she was—an old, worn-out waitress. Someone who wasn’t smart enough to be a nurse.

“Hello, Jack. What brings you all the way down here?”

“I’ve been wondering what happened to you, Lucy. Nobody seemed to know or would tell me.”

“You know what happened. You were right there. I nearly killed a patient,” she reminded him.

He smiled at her kindly. “Oh, right. Well, she pulled through just fine. Didn’t anyone tell you that?”

“Sure, I knew. Listen, can I get you something? You want a menu?”

“Just coffee, please.”

Lucy turned and collected a mug, then poured out the coffee and set a pitcher of milk beside it.

It was clear that he had come to talk to her because he thought he could help. But he wasn’t helping her. He was just rubbing salt in the wound.

“That accident you had,” Jack said, “those things happen to everyone sooner or later. Didn’t your supervisor tell you that?”

“No. She didn’t say anything like that to me.”

“Well, it’s true. Maybe Margaret doesn’t want to admit it—ruins the image—but nurses and doctors make mistakes. We’re only human. Hopefully, the mistakes don’t end up being life-threatening. When you weigh the mistakes against all the good we do, it’s like a few grains of sand on one side of the scale and a mountain on the other, don’t you think?”

Lucy had to agree with the analogy. “The problem is, I got stuck on the wrong side of the scale too many times.”

“You had a scare, Lucy. You’re still learning, so it almost doesn’t count,” he said. “Didn’t you almost have a car accident once or twice when you were learning how to drive?”

“I did have a car accident,” she answered emphatically. “No one was hurt, thank goodness.”

“Oh, well…bad example then.” He was half-frowning, half-smiling at her, and she felt the chemistry of their special friendship kicking in.

“I know what you’re trying to say, Jack. But this is different.”

“No, it’s not,” he insisted. “This is the work we choose to do,
the work we were born to do. You can’t give up without giving yourself a chance.”