A Nantucket Christmas (3 page)

Kennedy looked like Shrek.

Her obstetrician assured Kennedy the expected baby boy was of normal size, but she felt as if she were carrying a full-grown linebacker rigged with shoulderpads and helmet.

“You’ll feel better when we’re on Nantucket,” James said soothingly. “Your father and Nicole will pamper you.”

“But I don’t like that woman,” Kennedy protested.

“You scarcely know Nicole,” James reminded her.

Kennedy whimpered. “I want my parents to be together.”

James exhaled, losing patience. “That’s not going to happen. We’ve been over this before.”

Fine
. Then Kennedy wanted to be with her mother. But Katya was much too busy playing tennis with her
lover,
Alonzo, and furnishing her new Boston condo. The fact that her mother didn’t want Kennedy around made Kennedy hate her father’s new wife even more. She knew, somehow, this wasn’t logical, but who ever said emotions were logical, especially during pregnancy?

Kennedy glanced over at her husband, seeing his strong profile as the streetlights flashed past. She could tell by the way his jaw was clenched that he was exasperated with her. She couldn’t blame him. She might be a pain in his neck, but
she
had pain everywhere! He wanted this second child as much as she did, but she had to do all the heavy lifting. Literally.

James didn’t understand the stress of parenting. Choosing the right preschool; keeping her child away from the evils of sugar, fat, and pesticide-spiked protein. Trying to keep the world safe by not buying plastic, while at the same time trying to give her child fun toys to play with. Keeping her four-year-old away from the damages television could inflict on an innocent mind, protecting her son from the sight of monsters, swords, and cannons … The list was endless. It was all up to her, because James was so busy supporting the family.

And now it was the Christmas season! Maddox was begging for a puppy, but Kennedy was going to have a baby. How could she cope with puppy poop as well as a new baby?

Sometimes she just wanted to cry and cry.

“Buck up, Kennedy.” James clicked the remote that opened their garage door and guided his BMW into its berth. “We’re home. You can go to bed.”

Right. There was another issue: bed. Bed with James. They hadn’t made love in forever. Why
wouldn’t
James want to have an affair with one of those sleek young secretaries in those tight-fitting dresses?

Kennedy burst into tears.

Early on the morning of the Nantucket Christmas Stroll, glittering crystal sunlight streamed through the mist onto the shops, streets, houses, and harbor, a mirror-like light it seemed you could almost touch with your fingertips.

But then the temperature plummeted and white clouds pillowed the sky, shaking out feather-like snowflakes.

Standing in her Nantucket kitchen, Nicole snapped the Saran Wrap off the roll with such force the sheet flew up in her face.

Live in the now
, she admonished herself.
Cherish the day.

Smell the damned roses.

She unpeeled the plastic from her nose and carefully covered the last platter of cookies for the library bake sale at the Stroll. She poured herself another cup of coffee, sank into a kitchen chair, and forced herself to appreciate her surroundings.

Honey-warm wide-board floors laid in 1840, a fireplace with a simple Greek Revival mantel, and an antique pine table mingled perfectly with state-of-the-art appliances and slate countertops. It was Nicole’s good fortune that Katya chose to keep the Boston house in the divorce and Sebastian decided to live here permanently. The house was a masterpiece—especially, Nicole mused with a satisfied grin, the brand-new bed she’d insisted on having installed in the master bedroom.

Nicole had made other changes in the décor. Though small and inexpensive, they had transformed the house from a museum-like sterility into a welcoming home. She placed plump cushions in jaunty patchwork designs on the chairs around the kitchen table, filled colorful pottery jars with flour, sugar, and other staples to brighten the counter, and hung an oil painting of an oystercatcher by Bobby Frazier on the wall. The comical seabird, with its orange legs and beak, amused anyone who saw it.

Nicole had lightened the rest of the house with similar changes: She’d removed most of the useless antiques sitting around collecting dust—how many brass lanterns, cobbler’s lasts, and hard-bottomed old benches did any one house need? She’d added a couple of deeply comfortable chintz-covered armchairs to replace the wooden ladder-back cane-bottomed relics in the living room, plush pillows softened the white sofas, and Claire Murray rugs woven with coastal scenes, Nantucket hydrangeas, or mermaids brought seaside color to the rooms.

Yes, she’d made the house hers. Hers and Sebastian’s. And with that thought, her mood flipped into happiness. She picked up the phone and speed-dialed her best friend on the island.

“Jilly,” Nicole said, “I’ve finished the cookies for the Stroll.”

“Fab,” Jilly said. “Want me to drive over and help you get them to the Atheneum?”

“No, thanks,” Nicole said. “Seb can help me tomorrow morning. I’m just calling to vent.”

“Vent away,” Jilly urged.

“I’ve got so much to do and I don’t think I can accomplish it all,” Nicole worried. “Katya was such a Martha Stewart purist. I’m a clodhopper by comparison.”

“You’re a nurse,” Jilly reminded her. “You can save lives. Plus, you’ve made Sebastian truly happy.”

Jilly spoke with authority. She’d known Sebastian when he was married to Katya. She considered Katya lovely but profoundly socially inept. Katya strived to be the best at everything, but her frosty empress façade hid an even frostier heart. Men lusted after her and woman were intimidated by her, but anyone who spent over five minutes with her went away feeling shorter, fatter, and flawed.

“Kennedy phoned Seb last night,” Nicole confided. “She says she wants both her mother and her father to be with her during the birth of her second baby.”

“When’s the due date?”

“January tenth. I know Kennedy hopes her parents will get back together, and what better bonding moment than the birth of their second grandchild?”

“I get the picture. A major family event and you’re left out.”

“Exactly.”

“What can you do?” asked Jilly.

“In reality? Nothing.” Nicole looked toward the kitchen window. If today’s crisp weather lasted through tomorrow, it would be ideal for the Stroll. “So I should stop obsessing over that and go back to obsessing over Christmas.”

“What are you getting Maddox for Christmas?”

“Kennedy insists we buy only wooden toys.”

“Oh, please. What does Seb say?”

“Um, let’s see: variations on ‘don’t worry about it’ and ‘it will be fine.’”

“Perhaps he’s right,” Jilly said. “After all, this is the season of miracles.”

Seb drove Nicole to the library before it opened. He parked on India Street and helped her carry in her platters of cookies decorated like wreaths, trees, snowmen and snowwomen. This allowed him the opportunity to dash down to the used book sale in the basement of the Atheneum a few moments before the crowds arrived.

Nicole stood on the front porch of the library behind a table laden with her cookies, chatting with Jilly, who was manning the hot chocolate urn. Nicole wore her red wool trapeze coat and a red Santa cap with white fake fur trim. Jilly wore a green wool coat, a headband shaped like reindeer antlers, and earrings, one red, one green, fashioned like Christmas tree lights. They flashed off and on.

This was conservative attire for the Stroll, when townspeople and tourists alike descended on Main Street to celebrate the season. Nicole and Jilly served hot chocolate and cookies to elves, polar bears, the puppeteer Joe Vito and his gigantic puppet Grunge, and to the carolers costumed in Victorian garb, with long velvet cloaks, bonnets, and top hats. Posh off-islanders wore fur coats and diamond pins shaped like snowflakes. Even the more staid citizens sported red mittens, green and white striped mufflers, and red wool caps.

At eleven, Seb appeared on the library porch. “Ready?”

“Absolutely. Here comes my replacement.” Nicole hugged her friend, took Seb’s hand, and they went down the wooden library steps and through the picket fence to the brick sidewalk.

“Which way?” Seb asked.

Nicole linked her hand through her husband’s arm. “Let’s go see Santa arrive.”

They sauntered along, taking it all in, waving at friends. Several of the streets were blocked off for the gathering crowds whose pleasure was reflected back to them by the shining shop windows. Clever wreaths of evergreen or seashells or buoys decorated the doors, and dozens of small Christmas trees twinkled up and down the six major streets of the town. A fiddler strolled through the town playing folk tunes. The town crier strode around in his long black cape, waiting to ring the bell to announce the arrival of Santa.

“Look, Sebastian!” Nicole pointed at a Great Dane in a Santa Claus hat and a cherry-red Rudolph nose.

“Nantucketers love their dogs,” Sebastian told her.

Nicole spotted dogs decked out with reindeer ears and red velvet bows, hand-knit sweaters and blinking lights. A corgi wore a jingle bell collar that tinkled as she waddled along. “The dogs seem quite pleased to be in costume,” Nicole observed.

The town sheriff, Jim Perelman, waved at Sebastian and Nicole. “The boat’s on its way!” he called to them.

Nicole tugged Sebastian’s hand. “Hurry.”

Straight Wharf was already crowded with families. Daddies held children on their shoulders, older kids worked hard to appear blasé, dogs sniffed the ground in search of dropped cookie crumbs. Everyone looked to the harbor waters, watching for the Coast Guard boat that brought Santa and Mrs. Claus.

“Here it comes,” Sebastian told Nicole. He waved. “There’s John West, he’s the captain.”

“The one with the candy-cane-striped muffler?” Nicole asked.

“Right.”

The vessel motored steadily through the waves toward the pier, the Coast Guard decked out in red jackets and Santa Claus hats. The American flag with its red and white stripes rippled gaily in the breeze.

The boat docked. The ramp was secured. The crowd applauded as Santa and his wife stepped off the boat and were escorted into a carriage pulled by a handsome black horse. They processed up the cobblestone street toward the historic Jared Coffin House, where Santa would sit children on his knee and listen to their Christmas wishes.

“This certainly puts me in a holiday mood.” Nicole squeezed her husband’s hand from sheer delight. “Let’s stop and listen to the bell ringers.”

They paused at the top of Main Street, where a glittering Christmas tree towered in front of the Pacific Bank. The peals of the bells floated like golden bubbles through the frosty air.

“Lunch, I think,” Sebastian said, tugging Nicole away from the music.

At 12 Degrees East, they dined on creamy clam chowder and healthy green salads, sipped glasses of sparkling Prosecco, and treated themselves to bread pudding topped with whipped cream.

“I feel a nap coming on,” Sebastian confessed.

“I feel the need to shop!” Nicole countered.

“Nicole.” Sebastian shook his head fondly. “You mustn’t get carried away with this Christmas business.”

Nicole swirled milk and sugar into her coffee. “Tell me about your Christmases with Katya.”

Sebastian shrugged. “No big deal. When Kennedy was small, we went to either my parents’ or Katya’s for the holidays. After our parents died and Kennedy was older and more manageable, we took family trips over Christmas. To Fiji, and Paris, and Aruba, that sort of thing.”

“Did Katya decorate the house?” Nicole restrained any tone of judgment from her voice.

Sebastian considered her question. “Somewhat. Candles, that sort of thing. She never put up a tree because the needles would fall off, making a mess on the carpet. And after all, the trips were the main event.”

Nicole put her hand over Sebastian’s. “You know, Gordie and I never had any children. I always loved the Christmas season, but I missed being able to share it with a child. Now that Maddox is coming, I’m eager to get a big tree and do it up right, and buy lots of presents for him. And for the new baby. Maybe something fabulous and sparkly for Kennedy, too, to buoy her up since she’s so weighed down with her pregnancy.”

As she spoke, Nicole’s face brightened. She loved giving gifts.

Sebastian’s face lit up, too. “Sweetheart, you’re such a dreamer. Sure, let’s get a great big evergreen and you can trim the tree to your heart’s content.” He leaned forward. “What would
you
like for Christmas?”

Less than a year old, their marriage was still new. Nicole blushed. “I have everything I want,” she told her husband.

On that dreadful September day, Snix had run like a wild thing so fast and so far he’d finally come to the end of the moors. Here on the hilltops, huge mansions overlooked the world around them. Many were in the process of being shut up for the winter and refrigerators were cleaned out, their contents tossed into garbage containers that were easily opened. For a few weeks, Snix sniffed out sufficient food to sustain him.

Wandering this way, he found himself approaching the main cluster of population, where houses gathered closely together along winding lanes. As the days went by and the leaves turned colors and drifted down, some of these houses emptied out also. Still, many houses were lived in. Snix could tell by the smells. Some dogs even possessed homes, great massive structures with yards where entry was forbidden by their urinary territorial postings. He avoided those places.