One Bright Christmas

by Katherine Spencer

  “That is good news. Ezra will be happy to hear it.”

  The chippy thing had not been found under the dog’s fur, so his real owners could not be located. Jessica had placed him with an older couple who lived near her, out in the woods—the sort of neighborhood where animals belonged, if you were going to keep one.

  Jessica had mentioned a small chance that the dog’s placement might not stick. The couple also owned another dog and two cats. Who could live in such a menagerie? You might as well move into the zoo. There was some question of whether Teddy would get along with his siblings, but it seemed it was all working out.

  Lillian was happy to hear that the last possibility of Ezra lobbying to bring the dog back had gone up in a puff of cat hair. She said goodbye to her daughter and set down the phone.

  “I’ll be happy to hear what?” Ezra put the book aside and looked at her.

  “Jessica said the dog is adjusting well to his new home. All the animals are getting along, and his new owners kept the name you came up with.”

  He scowled and looked away. He took a sip of coffee and put the cup down again, then rose abruptly from his chair. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “Good idea. Some fresh air will do you good. I hear the town is crowded with all the movie fans.”

  “Well then, I’ll walk around them. What do I care?”

  “Don’t be cross. Do wear your hat and gloves. Estrella said it’s cold out. And some real clothes, of course,” she muttered in a lower tone.

  He tucked the book under his arm and went upstairs. He made a sound as he passed her, but she couldn’t tell if it was an actual remark or just wholesale grunting. Perhaps it was best that she hadn’t heard it clearly.

  No doubt that fresh air and exercise would do him good. Clear the cobwebs. Perhaps he’d come to terms with the news that the last hope of the dog’s return was now off the table.

  She did feel sorry for him. But it couldn’t be helped. The sooner he accepted the situation and moved on, the better.

  A few minutes later, she heard Ezra come down the stairs. He soon headed for the mudroom, where he put on his hat and coat. Lillian pretended to be reading the newspaper, wondering if he would talk to her this time.

  But he left the house by the side door, without even asking if she wanted anything from the pharmacy or post office or needed a library book returned. He really was not himself at all. She was starting to worry.

  She picked up the paper and maneuvered into the living room, where she sat in her favorite chair. She was tempted to start the crossword but decided to hold off on a solo flight until Ezra got back. He might feel better when he got back, and then they could work on it together. As they always did.

  She had just started a new collection of short stories, about a woman who lived in Maine named Olive Kitteridge. Fairly dark, but well-observed and exquisite writing, she thought.

  She had only advanced a page or two when she heard a key turn in the front door’s lock and then heard the door open.

  “Emily? Is that you?” Her daughters both had house keys, and she knew it couldn’t be Jessica, off on her goat delivery. They were usually polite enough to ring the doorbell before letting themselves in. Whatever could be the rush?

  “It’s me,” Ezra called out.

  “Did you forget something?” Lillian rose with the aid of her cane and walked to the foyer to meet him. She was encouraged by his tone. The air had done him good already, it seemed.

  “No, but I found something,” he reported. “Found someone, just about sitting on our doorstep.”

  Lillian entered the foyer and saw Ezra standing in front of the door, his arms full of . . . dog.

  Not just any dog. The dog. That Teddy.

  “What in heaven’s name? . . . Ezra, how did you get that dog back? You didn’t call those people who took him in, did you?”

  Her mind spun with possibilities and secret schemes.

  He laughed. “Of course not. Are you daft? I don’t even know their name. Looks like Teddy ran away from his new home. He obviously likes it better here.”

  “Because he gets more attention, that’s the reason. You positively spoil him. He’s an only dog here, and over there, one of many. No mystery, I’d say.”

  “Lillian, you’re too hard on him. He likes us. I think he likes you even more than me. Look at the way he gazes at you.”

  Lillian had noticed that the dog was staring at her and wagging his tail furiously, wearing that uncanny smile, too.

  He looked as if he wanted to jump into her arms. Heaven forbid.

  “I bet if I let him loose, he’d run right to you.”

  Lillian jumped back. “Don’t you dare. Straight to the mudroom. Get that cardboard up again. I’ll call Jessica. She’ll let his new owners know. At least we know where he belongs this time. They must be very worried about him,” she added.

  She was assuming that, even though she knew for sure that those people were extremely irresponsible. The dog had only been with them five days. How could they have lost it already?

  With that houseful of creatures crawling around, maybe they hadn’t even noticed he was missing. But she didn’t say that aloud, knowing that it would only encourage Ezra to keep him.

  “They can pick him up right away,” she said.

  “I could have predicted you’d say that.”

  He sighed as he walked past her, cradling the little hound like a baby. The dog rested his head in the crook of Ezra’s arm and gazed back at her until they disappeared into the kitchen.

  You never know what will happen when you get up in the morning. Lillian had heard it said, and it was still true. She did hope that by the end of the day, Teddy the dog would once again be banished from her home.

  This time, once and for all.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  You had to love a guy who ordered the “sushi boat.” And then didn’t seem the least bit embarrassed when all of their fellow diners turned to watch the waitress carry the elaborate entrée to their table. Was he always like this on a date? Or was this bon vivant persona for her benefit?

  Lauren had not intended to go out with Joe two weekends in a row. But when he’d asked last week if she was free, she thought some private time out of the office might provide a good moment to explain why she didn’t want to take any more assignments from his firm.

  For one thing, the hours spent working were seriously cutting into her job search. At this rate, she would still be home at Easter. For another, their growing closeness as colleagues was giving him ideas. He had already had those ideas before she’d set foot in his firm, and spending so much time together at the office only encouraged him in that direction.

  Lauren had decided it was best to step back and disentangle, though she truly enjoyed and appreciated his friendship and company. How boring the last few weeks here would have been if they hadn’t renewed their connection.

  It was a fine line, and Lauren wasn’t sure she could make it from one end to the other without falling off and hurting his feelings, which was the last thing she wanted to do. No matter how many times he assured her that he valued her honesty and up-front personality, no one likes to be romantically rejected. She knew that firsthand.

  Then he had dumped that file about Madeleine Belkin and Dendur Software on her desk. She’d read it, met with Madeleine, and mulled over the pros and cons of representing her. And finally ended up taking on the case, much to Joe’s delight. He had, after all, predicted that she would.

  The “It’s not you, it’s me and my job search” talk that she had planned was canned. Stored, more accurately, for some future meeting. And here they were, at a Japanese restaurant in Newburyport, where the sleek decor combined shades of cool gray, creamy white, and black lacquered wood to create a sophisticated, upscale setting.

  They’d shared a few appetizers and sushi and
sashimi for two, artfully arranged on a large bamboo boat, tasting as good as, and possibly better than, most she’d eaten in New York.

  Joe insisted on ending the meal with a shared dessert as well: a dish of green tea ice cream, fried. She had never understood the point of frying ice cream. Or flavoring it with tea. Lauren preferred her ice cream far less gourmet—plain old vanilla, slightly melted and swimming in hot fudge sauce.

  If Joe was trying to show her that life in “the sticks” did not lack gourmet dining and civilized comforts, he was doing a good job. A transparent job, Lauren silently qualified, but a good one nonetheless.

  Their conversation ranged from recent films to golf to the news—carefully skirting political potholes—and then on to an update on their high school classmates. A “Where are they now?” rundown.

  Many had moved away for a time after college but had returned to the area to settle down and raise their families. Most had not ventured beyond Boston. Lauren wasn’t surprised. In many ways, Boston and Cape Light and the surrounding villages were easier—and more attractive—places to settle. New York was exciting and stimulating, but it wasn’t easy.

  What she had found surprising was that a guy like Joe, with so much to offer some lucky woman, had not married yet. She was sure from all he’d said, and not said, that he was not avoiding marriage, like some men, but would race to the altar if he found the right woman. And wanted to have children, as well.

  Emboldened by the tiny but potent glasses of sake, she decided to ask outright. “Well, that catches us up on most of our classmates. But what about you, Joe? Any serious relationships in college or since? I can’t imagine that the single ladies in this town aren’t tracking you with GPS.”

  He blushed, which she thought was cute. “There has been a serious relationship. Or two. A few near misses with matrimony, I guess you’d say.”

  “Near misses? You make your love life sound like a runway at Logan Airport.”

  He looked a bit embarrassed but laughed. “I guess I’ve realized that any of those relationships wouldn’t have been right for the long run. Breaking up was painful at the time, but it was the the best thing—for my former girlfriends and for me.”

  “I understand.”

  “Is that how you feel about the guy you mentioned? Who broke up with you back in New York?”

  Lauren sighed. “I haven’t quite turned that corner yet. But I can see it, not too far up the road.”

  He took another spoonful of the ice cream. “It takes time to get past these things, but you’re doing well if you already feel that much better.”

  She appreciated his encouraging reply. Then she realized he had turned the conversation back to her again, a little trick she had noticed him playing from time to time. Was she so interesting? She hardly thought so.

  “Back to you,” she said boldly. “I just find it surprising that you’re not married yet. It sounds like you’d like to be.”

  He nodded. “I would like to get married. I’m more than ready.”

  “Just haven’t met the right person?”

  “I wouldn’t say that’s the problem, exactly.” He gazed at her, his words hanging in the air.

  For pity’s sake, Lauren-Big-Mouth. This is just what you didn’t want to happen—a full-blown, all-the-cards-on-the-table talk about Joe’s feelings for you.

  She wracked her brains for a quick, diverting answer. “Sure, well . . . I bet there’s a busload of wonderful, accomplished women around here with a lot to offer. It shouldn’t be a problem meeting someone,” she rambled. “I really was impressed by Madeleine Belkin,” she added, trying to cut across to an entirely new tract of conversation. “I was on the fence about taking the case, as you know. But talking with her face-to-face made all the difference.”

  Joe squinted, then smiled. He knew what she was doing but was letting her get away with it. “I thought you two would get along. She’s the very definition of ‘still waters run deep.’”

  A perfect assessment of Lauren’s new client, and Lauren wondered what that made her. Noisy waters run shallow?

  “She’s a very thoughtful person and a very principled one,” Lauren said. “I believe she’s following through on this action, at a high personal cost, for the sake of other women at that company and in the industry. My hat is off to her.”

  He sat back and quietly clapped. “Well done. Your closing argument is practically written already. I have a good feeling about this.”

  Lauren nearly said, “Me, too.” But in truth, she wasn’t entirely sure if she could win justice for Madeleine from the corporate villains. Funny how she was usually fighting on the opposite side. It did feel different, and good, to be championing the little guy. The little gal, in fact.

  “So, has Madeleine’s case changed your mind any about working for a Chihuahua-sized law firm?”

  He lobbed the forgotten insult back so casually, Lauren had to laugh. “I believe the record will show that I never actually said that. You called the firm a Chihuahua.”

  “So I did—though it had been clearly implied,” he added in a very lawyerly way. “But you haven’t answered the question.”

  “I wouldn’t say one way is any better than the other, Joe. It’s just . . . different. I can see that practicing out here, a person can have a real life—marriage, kids, dogs, the works,” she said honestly. “In the city, it’s doable but a lot more challenging.”

  New York firms expected you to clock longer billable hours, and there was more juggling, expense, and intense competition. New York was a pressure cooker.

  “I’d like to say I’d miss the culture scene, but Boston has more of that than I’m likely to ever indulge in,” she admitted. “I’m happy most of the time to crash on the couch and binge on Netflix or Amazon, and you can do that anywhere.”

  Joe laughed. “That’s about all I can handle after a day at the office. I love British mysteries. Everything sounds so much more intelligent and interesting when it’s said with a British accent, don’t you think?”

  “Absolutely. Though I do turn on the subtitles,” she confessed. She was glad to be off the topics of marriage, children, and finding the right person to share the rest of her life with. She thought she had found the right person, and he had turned out to be a callow, shallow commitment-phobe. She felt so confused and didn’t trust her judgment at all right now.

  She certainly didn’t want to jump on the first reliable-looking log—or sushi boat—that floated past, giving in to a panic about approaching thirty and being left alone on the riverbank.

  Was Joe a convenient log . . . or a really great guy offering her a wonderful and satisfying life? Had she said too much? Been too honest again? She never meant she could see herself working at his law firm forever and going home with him to veg out and watch Netflix. And take care of their kids.

  The possible advantages of making a life here with Joe, or anyone for that matter, were obvious. But Lauren knew that she hadn’t given up on New York yet and would not let herself be defeated. It wasn’t a defeat, just a setback, she reminded herself. You’re only resting here before going back into the ring. You can get knocked down in the fight, that’s all right. As long as you get up.

  Joe didn’t seem to understand that yet. Or want to accept it. He believes he can change your mind. So be it. That’s on him. Someday soon, you may need to make it clear. But this was not the moment.

  When she got home, she found her mother in the kitchen, working at the kitchen table on her laptop. Most of the lights in the house were off and it seemed that everyone else was asleep.

  Her mom’s reading glasses, which were a new addition since Lauren’s last visit, were sliding down her nose, and she barely seemed to notice Lauren come in and put the kettle on.

  “Hi, honey. Did you have a good time with Joe?” she asked, tapping away furiously.

  “It was fine. W
e had some really good Japanese food. Want some tea?”

  “Um . . . no thanks. You go ahead. There’s some chocolate cake in the fridge. Betty asked me to bring one home. But I bet you had dessert already.”

  Lauren so wanted the cake but decided to skip it. She’d been indulging way too much lately, and there was still Christmas to get through. Eat through, more like, at this house.

  “So, your night out was just ‘fine’? That’s it?”

  Her mom didn’t let a tiny nuance slip past, did she?

  “It was fun, I meant.” The kettle called, and Lauren poured hot water into a big mug. Best to change the subject, she thought. “What are you up to? Catching up on work?”

  “Nothing important, just making a list.”

  One of her Master Lists, Lauren had no doubt—her mother’s foolproof method for prioritizing every task she had to complete or supervise over the coming weeks.

  The system was first developed when Lauren and Jill were kids and lived with their mom in a small apartment above the hardware store on Main Street. Those days, right after her parents split up, were difficult and confusing for everyone. She and Jill missed their carefree, fun-loving father, who was as playful as a big Labrador. Looking back, she could see that her dad had never been a mature, responsible partner. He had failed and hurt her mother, and the dissolution of their marriage had caused a shell to harden around her mother’s heart and tainted her spirit with bitterness. But only for a time.

  Molly would not be kept down or shortchange herself and her future by taking on the role of a victim. She now insisted that the breakup was one of the best things that had ever happened to her. Forced to fend for herself and her girls, she had worked a million different jobs, often two or three at the same time—from cleaning houses to driving school buses to stocking supermarket shelves and baking muffins all night. Then she’d be out at dawn to make deliveries all over town.

  No one would have predicted that a young woman who had barely graduated high school and then married at eighteen would turn out to be the town’s foremost and most successful entrepreneur, male or female.