An Island Christmas (9 page)

With the sneaky swiftness of an FBI agent, Jilly crossed the room and became very busy refilling her cup with Christmas punch from the big silver bowl on the dining room table. It took her a long time to do it because she spilled some (on purpose), found a paper napkin to wipe it up, and fussed around ladling more, all in the interest of overhearing the conversation a few feet away from her.

“Yes,” Archie was saying, “Felicia has told me all about you.”

Steven laughed. “I hope not. You know you’re lucky, getting this gorgeous woman for your wife.” Steven wrapped a companionable arm around Felicia and hugged her against him.

“I’m well aware of that,” Archie replied, bristling.

“We’ve always been each other’s biggest fans,” Felicia
added, snuggling into Steven. “We were each other’s date for senior prom. I have to show you the picture, Archie. We were so gorgeous!” Looking up at Steven, she smiled.

“I’m sure you were,” Archie answered, and to Jilly’s eavesdropping ears, his tone was growing antagonistic.

Felicia pulled away from Steven. “Archie and I are going to travel to the Himalayas after our wedding! Isn’t that exciting?”

Archie still glowered at Steven. “Oh, look, Lisa just arrived. Excuse us, Steven, I want Archie to meet her.” Felicia took Archie’s arm and tugged him away from Steven toward the living room.

Jilly wandered in the other direction, ending up in the living room talking with old Sherman Waterson, who had bad hearing and worse breath.

All the next day, Jilly schemed and plotted, realizing how hopeless she was at strategy. She’d never read Machiavelli; she’d never even played chess. But in desperation, she did her best.

It was four o’clock. Darkness was falling. At six they would all go to the Ernsts’ Christmas party. Jilly was in the kitchen, carefully covering a plate of gingerbread with ClingWrap when Felicia came in, carrying cups and glasses she’d gathered from around the house to put in the dishwasher.

“Thanks, darling,” Jilly said, adding casually, “oh, and
would you mind taking this next door to Steven?” She held out the plate of gingerbread.

Felicia was bent over the dishwasher, rearranging glasses—everyone thought she knew the best way to pack the dishwasher—so Jilly couldn’t see her face.

“Why does Steven need gingerbread?” Felicia asked.

Jilly trilled a laugh that sounded fake even to herself. “He doesn’t
need
gingerbread, silly. I just like sending him over seasonal treats now and then. He’s all alone, you know, in that big house. Have you been inside his house? It’s delightful. Lots of bedrooms for children.”

Felicia stood up. She stared at Jilly. “Mom. What do you think you’re doing?”

Jilly widened her eyes in innocence. “Well, I’m trying to give our good old friend a little Christmas cheer.”

“Why not take the gingerbread over yourself?”

“Oh, I have so many things to do …”

“And?”

The hell with it
, Jilly thought. No more game playing. She wasn’t any good at it anyway. “And I thought you might like to talk with Steven about marriage before it’s too late.”

“You want me to drop Archie and marry Steven?” Felicia asked. Both her hands flew to her mouth in shock and her expression was so odd Jilly couldn’t tell whether her daughter was laughing or crying or both.

“I just want you to
think
—” began Jilly.

With a strange croaking noise, Felicia shook her head and ran from the room.

Jilly didn’t mention the gingerbread again.

As they left for the Ernsts’ party, Jilly and Felicia pretended that all was normal in a stilted, fragile way, remaining so subtly out of sync that George and Archie didn’t notice. The party was such a crush, Jilly quickly recovered her good mood.

Paul Miller approached them, addressing Archie. “Hey, aren’t you the young man who went out with George in Ed Ramos’s boat and walked all the way home from Great Point?”

This question was asked over and over again. To her surprise, Jilly realized George’s and Archie’s foolish actions had raised them in the town’s estimation. George was no longer a retired accountant, he was a crazy eccentric like the rest of the year-rounders. George glowed with pride as he recounted his adventure, which became more embellished with each telling. Before she knew it, Jilly was telling her own friends about it, almost as if it were some adorable prank instead of something that scared her half to death.

Over the next few days, Archie was the model son-in-law-to-be. During the day, he went out with Felicia to hike for hours on the moors or beaches. In the evenings, he
showered and dressed in his blazer, organized his wild red hair into a semblance of normality, and joined the Gordon family at several cocktail parties. Felicia remained polite but distant to her mother, as if she were avoiding an argument—or as if she were contemplating her mother’s wise words? Jilly could only hope.

At home during the day, Jilly kept busy baking for Christmas day and all the guests. George often went off for a hike with his daughter and Archie, but Jilly never felt alone. When no one else was around, Rex came out from the laundry basket and lay in his pretty round bed in the kitchen, keeping her company. If she settled in the family room to wrap presents, Rex joined her there, folding himself up on a pillow and watching her carefully, hoping she would dangle a ribbon for him to try to catch.

“You’re a clever little fellow, aren’t you? I’m amazed at how well you’ve adapted to life in a house. And I must say all the treats I’ve been feeding you have made you fill out quite nicely. Your coat is glossy and silky now. We shouldn’t have named you Rex. We should have named you Noel or Christmas but of course George wouldn’t like that. You’re probably too proud to accept a name like that, anyway.”

Rex would listen as if he understood her every word, his golden eyes glowing with intelligence. He was also the only living being in the house who didn’t argue with her. She had discovered it calmed her remarkably to spend time alone talking to him, and secretly she was pleased
that the cat always sat next to her. He was definitely
her
cat. She could say anything to him and he wouldn’t take offense. What a treasure!

One night the four attended the Festival of Trees at the Nantucket Historical Association on Broad Street. In the grand historic rooms that once had been a candleworks factory, dozens of live evergreens had been decorated by artists, scholars, and merchants in dazzlingly creative and innovative ways. A few trees were actually artistic creations fashioned out of lobster traps and buoys, or books read by a book club over a series of years, or the wooden parts of an ancient sailboat. Caterers passed champagne and canapés as wild cries of delight filled the room to the highest point of the ceiling where the skeleton of a forty-six-foot sperm whale hung, reminding them of the island’s history.

The glittering array of Christmas trees was equaled by the sparkling jewelry and dresses on the women and the colorful holiday vests, velvet jackets, or cummerbunds on the men.
Everyone
was here, and Jilly watched her daughter introduce Archie to them all.

Steven Hardy was also there, handsome, elegant, and alone. He kissed Jilly’s cheek and shook George’s hand. “Merry Christmas.”

Jilly kissed Steven’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Steven,” she cooed as she thought frantically of a way to draw him into their little group, but he only nodded a polite hello to
Archie and Felicia, then walked away. Jilly saw Felicia staring after him—was that a look of regret on her face? Or did Jilly only hope it was?

The third Sunday in December, the Gordons and Archie attended the annual Christmas pageant at the Congregational Church where well-known members of the town acted out the ancient nativity story. Dolly and Mike Mills, who had a baby three months old, played the parts of Mary, Joseph, and Jesus. Elementary schoolchildren in halos and wings were backup singers for Tricia Carr, a senior in high school and on her way to Juilliard. The Kastner family played the part of shepherds, complete with three woolly sheep from their farm, and three of the town’s selectmen appeared as the Three Wise Men, which added a great deal of levity to the occasion.

When the congregation sang “Away in a Manger,” Jilly’s thoughts drifted. She knew this was the calm before the storm. Tomorrow Lauren, Porter, Lawrence, and Portia would arrive. In three short days Christmas would be here. Not only that, Felicia and Archie would be married and twenty people would gather in the house on Chestnut Street for the wedding reception.

Jilly was a great one for making lists. At night she lay in bed mentally reviewing what she had checked off and what still needed to be done. She couldn’t wait to see the gown Lauren had made for Felicia. Lauren had such exquisite taste. If the children could keep from wrecking the house … if the weather cooperated so they could play
outside … if Archie didn’t lure George or Felicia out for some other extreme escapade … if the planes made it to the island in time for Archie’s mother to arrive … if Archie’s mother was not too difficult to deal with … if she’d ordered a large enough turkey … if Rex didn’t slip out the door with all these people coming and going … if Felicia would stop acting so politely cold toward Jilly … if only Felicia were going to marry Steven …

If only Jilly could get one good night’s sleep!

10
 

In her childhood bedroom, Felicia also tossed and turned through the night.

Her first few nights there, she’d found it amusing to sleep in her girlhood twin bed while her gigantic fiancé lay snoring in the twin bed next to her, beneath a lavender, violet-dotted duvet. They’d had fun messing around and making love in the twin beds, enjoying the challenge of not making noise. She’d relished the sight of her fiancé’s huge shoes beneath her tall white bureau with the mermaid-shaped pulls.

But now, as the first white light of day dawned, Felicia found herself realizing how much work her mother had done to make this bedroom such a private girlish sanctuary. Jilly had made the lined, white muslin curtains trimmed with lavender grosgrain ribbon and the tiebacks adorned with felt flowers. Jilly herself had painted the walls a pale violet with marshmallow white woodwork. And it had been Jilly who discovered the old desk at the Hospital Thrift Shop, brought it home, sanded it smooth, and
painted it white, with iris twining up the sides and bunnies and birds in the grass. Okay, it wasn’t a professional job, but it was darling, and Felicia was fond of this little room.

Lauren’s room had been rose-themed until she turned fifteen, at which point she went into an earthy-crunchy hippie save-the-earth phase and hung posters with peace signs and pictures of U2 all over her walls. Lauren’s desk had become a repository for her eye shadow and lipstick, CD player and piles of CDs, and tie-dye scarves. Funny how Lauren had ended up as much a happy homemaker and mom as their mother.

Felicia had never changed her room because she’d seldom spent time here. When she entered junior high, she went mad for sports—swimming, girls’ hockey, gymnastics, and baseball. She didn’t have time even to consider the decor of her room although she did alter its looks with the piles of different uniforms she tossed on the chairs, over her desk, and on the floor. Her mother had attended all her games and never fussed about the piles of dirty uniforms to be washed.