by Nancy Thayer
“I’ll go ahead of you and open the door,” suggested Pat.
“Great idea. Let’s go through the side door right into the laundry room.”
Walking with extreme care, Jilly made it up the driveway and into the house. She set the cake in its box on top of the dryer. Then she returned to the car to help Pat bring in the flowers, more groceries, and the heavy turkey. They set everything on the small table where she folded the laundry and began to remove their heavy outdoor gear.
Pat checked her watch. “It’s already lunchtime.”
“I’ve got cold cuts and cheeses. Everyone can have what they want.”
“You’re totally organized for this holiday,” Pat said, impressed. “I wish—”
What she wished was interrupted by a scream from the family room. A moment later, Lawrence thundered into the kitchen with a red face.
“Rex ate my tuna fish! Mommy, Rex pulled my sandwich off the plate and ate the tuna fish.”
“Drat that cat!” Lauren said, right before she saw Jilly and Pat enter the kitchen. “He’s only an animal,” she added lamely, not wanting to upset her mother by insulting her cat. “It’s all right, Lawrence, I’ll make you a peanut butter sandwich.” With a rather frantic look in her eyes, Lauren asked Jilly, “Mom, where do you keep your peanut butter?”
“Oh, dear, we don’t have any.” Jilly had never seen her perfect older daughter in such confusion except during the first few days after her first child’s birth. “I have a lot of cold cuts in the refrigerator for lunch today. I thought we could all make what we want. Does Lawrence like ham, roast beef, cheese, or corned beef?”
Lawrence burst into tears. “I want tuna fish!”
Archie, Felicia, Porter, and limping George came into the kitchen to observe the commotion.
“Rex ran upstairs like his tail is on fire,” George said.
“Lawrence, did you pull Rex’s tail?” asked Jilly.
“I had to, to get him off my sandwich,” wailed Lawrence.
“Mother, I can’t believe you’re siding with the cat over your grandson,” Lauren snapped indignantly, tears in her eyes.
“Darling, of course I’m not siding with Rex over Lawrence.”
Portia came into the room with a plate in her hands. “Here, Lawrence, you can have my sandwich.” Looking at the adults gathered in the room, she explained, “I like cheese sandwiches best. Lawrence likes tuna fish best.”
“You already took a bite out of it,” Lawrence observed sulkily.
“Want me to put it back?” Adorable little Portia made vomiting noises onto her plate.
The men laughed, the women gasped, and Lawrence giggled. “Gross.” He happily snatched the plate out of his sister’s hand and stomped off to the family room to watch more TV.
“I’ll bring you a cheese sandwich,” Lauren told her daughter.
“Thanks, Mommy,” said Portia, and skipped after her brother.
“The children are always crazy at Christmas,” Lauren apologized, taking bread from the wrapper.
“I remember,” Jilly said. “It’s almost too much for them to bear, waiting for Santa to come, wanting a certain present and not knowing whether Santa will bring it. Plus all the parties, the time off from school, not to mention the weather forcing them to stay indoors.”
“I’d like to spend some time with the children,” said Felicia. “Why don’t Archie and I take them for a walk after lunch? We can look at the store windows and go down to the harbor and see the ice freezing around the boats.”
“That would be super, Felicia.” Lauren sighed. “Then Porter and I could finish the presents.”
“Do you mind if I go with you?” Jilly asked. “I haven’t been able to spend much time with my grandchildren this visit.”
“That’s great, Mom,” said Lauren. “And Porter and I will stay here in case Dad needs anything.”
“And I have a great idea!” Jilly said. “Why don’t we invite Steven to join us?”
“Why would that be a great idea?” Archie asked.
“Well, poor fellow, he’s all alone next door … It just seems the neighborly thing to do,” Jilly explained. Then she saw her two daughters, her darling, adorable girls, giving each other that look and sputtering with repressed laughter. She didn’t know exactly what it meant, but from years of practice, she could interpret it as their “Mom is such an idiot” expression.
“Fine. We won’t ask Steven. I’m going to start making sandwiches,” Jilly announced, moving to the kitchen counter. “Who wants roast beef?” She took the mustard, mayonnaise, lettuce, and tomatoes out of the refrigerator, setting the containers down sharply on the counter.
“I might take a brief nap,” Pat said, “before I start preparing dinner.”
Athletic Pat needed a nap? Just like that, Jilly’s mood improved.
The children were not at all pleased about having to leave the family room for the cold outdoors. They fussed and whined and pouted as their parents ushered them to the bathroom and then bent to the backbreaking task of suiting the children up for the cold.
The moment they all stepped outside, Portia and Lawrence flung themselves into the snow with glee, rolling around in the high drifts like dogs in summer grass.
“Don’t get snow inside your boots,” Jilly advised. “We’re going to walk down to the harbor to see the ice.”
“Stay on the sidewalks and when you come to a street, stop,” ordered Felicia. “You have to hold someone’s hand to cross the street.”
Because their house was right in the center of town, all the streets around them had been recently plowed and sanded, which was good for the cars but made the sidewalks into hills and valleys of mounded snow. This only added to the children’s fun. The air was frigid and a breeze was blowing from the east, occasionally sprinkling their faces with snow falling from the tree limbs. Lawrence and Portia thought this was hysterically funny.
Already at two in the afternoon, the cloudy sky imparted an aspect of twilight to the village. All the street and shop lights were on, casting a golden gleam on the icy cobblestones and brick sidewalks. The small Christmas trees lining the street sparkled with light and rustled with handmade decorations made of Popsicle sticks and twine, aluminum foil and rubber bands, or pictures of children and their pets carefully laminated and hung with fuzzy colorful pipe cleaners.
“Look at this gingerbread village!” Jilly called to the children.
They ran up to the window. “Awesome!” yelled Lawrence. “Can I have a gingerbread man?”
“Me, too!” cried Portia.
“We just had lunch,” Jilly reminded them. “Maybe we’ll stop here on the way back home. Let’s go see the boats in the ice first.”
The town was busy with last-minute shoppers bustling in and out of the stores with bags and lists in their gloved hands. Friends called, “Merry Christmas!” to each other as they hurried along. Dogs waiting inside cars scratched at the windows, barking at the dogs fortunate enough to be walking with their owners down the sidewalks. Random melodies such as “Frosty the Snowman” and “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” tinkled over the streets as shop doors opened and closed.
“Now that’s a big tree!” Archie stopped in front of the thirty-foot evergreen in front of the Pacific National Bank. Every branch and needle was layered with thick white snow illuminated by the small lights wrapped around the tree. Archie hefted Portia up to ride on his shoulders.
“It looks like it’s covered with Marshmallow Fluff!” Lawrence ran up, took a handful of snow, and put it in his mouth. “Nope, it’s snow.”
Next to the giant tree, someone had built a snowman, complete with carrot nose, black coal eyes and mouth, and a holiday red bandana around what would have been a neck if he’d had one.
“Let’s build a snowwoman next to him!” Portia suggested.
“Let’s wait and build one in the yard at home,” Jilly told her. “We’ve got to keep walking.”
At Mitchell’s Book Corner,
enticing children’s Christmas books were displayed in the window: Jan Brett’s Home for Christmas, Chris Van Allsberg’s The Polar Express, and Dr. Seuss’s How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Jilly was pleased to see her grandchildren gazing upon the books with the same wistful expression they had when they looked at the gingerbread.
“Can we buy a book for Grand-Auntie Pat?” Portia asked.
The adults stopped, shocked at the child’s thoughtfulness.
“That’s a brilliant idea!” Archie told them. “Come on, kids, let’s go in and I’ll show you what she likes.”
Felicia’s heart melted as she watched Archie shepherd the children into the store.
“Oh, look!” Jilly cried. “There’s Steven! Across the street by the pharmacy. Let’s go say hello. Wait, who is that man he’s with? He’s awfully handsome.” Jilly tugged her daughter’s hand.
“Mom,” Felicia snorted. “That’s probably his boyfriend.”
Jilly gaped. “His what?”
“Mom. Steven’s gay.”
“Are you sure?” Jilly squinted to get a better look at Steven, who was talking with his friend. His boyfriend. How had she missed this?
“I’ve been his best friend for years. Of course I’m sure.”
“Does Lauren know?”
“Everyone knows. Except, I guess, you and Dad.” Felicia put her fingers in her mouth and wolf-whistled, catching Steven’s attention. He waved and headed across the street, his handsome companion with him.
As the men cut through the crowd, working their way toward them, Jilly’s mind swirled. Steven was gay? Steven was gay. Steven was gay, Felicia loved Archie and his world, Lauren was happy with her family, and Jilly’s feet hurt. Secretly, she was looking forward to a quiet evening with a book, her husband, and a cat. How things changed. Jilly nodded to herself as she realized she had no control over her grown-up children. She hadn’t had for years. What a lot of emotional energy Jilly had wasted, trying to make life fit into a gilt-edged picture frame. Life was much more like her chaotically redecorated Christmas tree that even now was probably dropping needles on the carpet.
“Jilly, Felicia, hello!” Steven stepped onto the sidewalk and quickly kissed both women’s cheeks. “I’d like you to meet David Hagopian, my partner.”
David smiled and nodded hello.
“Your business partner or …” Jilly arched an eyebrow, working for a sophisticated look.
“Both, since you ask,” Steven replied. “David’s going to be moving in with me in a couple of weeks.”
“That’s swell, Steven,” Felicia said. “I’m so happy for you.”
“I am, too,” Jilly gushed, feeling a little bit tipsy. “My, what a lot of romance in the air this Christmas. Steven,” she continued spontaneously, “why don’t you and David come to Felicia’s wedding?”
Steven exchanged glances with David. “We’d love to.”
Felicia hugged Steven. “Oh, good. I’m so glad!”
Just then Portia and Lawrence exploded out of the store, followed by Archie. Introductions were quickly made while the children jumped up and down yelling about their purchases.
“We got Grand-Auntie Pat a picture book!” Portia announced.
“About golfers!” Lawrence added.
“Women golfers,” Portia clarified.
“That’s brilliant, children,” Felicia said, stamping her feet and rubbing her arms to keep warm. “But I’m cold. The wind’s picking up. Let’s walk on down to the harbor.”
Jilly and the others said goodbye to Steven and David, then hurried along over the brick sidewalks. The children skipped ahead of the adults, stopping to gaze in shop windows, and obediently waiting at the crosswalks for an adult to hold their hands. Best of the Beach had a sale, and so did the Four Winds Gifts, with red or green Nantucket sweatshirts hanging on the door. The Jewel of the Isle jewelry shop sparkled with treasures, and farther down the street, shoppers rushed in and out of Cold Noses.
“Oh, children,” cried Felicia, “let’s go get Rex a present!”
Jilly was pleased that her daughter had thought of buying Rex a present. Silly, she knew, but in such a short time she had come to think of Rex as part of the family. She had even crafted a little stocking with Rex’s name on it made from felt she had cut out and pasted on one of George’s old wool socks. She’d bought a gray furry rat filled with catnip to put inside.
She’d bought a gift for Steven, too, because she’d thought he’d be alone. It was only a tie, a nice silk tie from Murray’s Toggery. She’d give it to Archie instead. Or—David had such gorgeous brown eyes—if she had time, she’d buy a red tie for him.
Everyone had fun at the animal boutique. Portia chose a play toy resembling a pink parrot wearing a tutu. Lawrence discovered a wind-up gray plastic mouse that skittered across the floor and would provide exercise for Rex—if Lawrence ever stopped playing with it himself.
When they stepped outside, they discovered the wind had become even stronger, shaking the bare branches of the trees in the Nantucket Harbor Stop & Shop parking lot and whisking small tornadoes of snow all along the long wooden wharfs. Straight Wharf was crowded with people as passengers hurried to catch the Hy-Line headed for the mainland or dragged their rolling suitcases behind them up the wharf toward the taxi stand.
“Let’s go this way,” suggested Archie, heading along the sidewalk of New Whale Lane between Straight Wharf and Old South Wharf.
About one hundred years ago, fishermen had built small wooden shacks on the wharves to keep warm in while they mended their nets and traps. Now with the gentrification of Nantucket, these wooden shacks had been restored and beautified and transformed into elegant shops. In the twenty yards between the two wharves, a narrow boat basin led to the harbor. Ten or fifteen feet deep, depending on the tides, the water here was shallower than out in the harbor. Here, small boats for scallopers and fishermen could tie up. In the summer, charter fishing boats waited for customers but in the winter, especially this cold winter, many of the boats had already been taken to dry dock. Mallards and gulls floated in this protected rectangular water bowl.
“Grandma Jelly!” yelled Lawrence. “Look at the ice!”
Jilly, Felicia, Archie, and the children stood on the weathered wooden boards at the edge of the dock, peering down into the boat basin where three small, well-worn Boston Whalers, fastened by ropes to the pilings, were rapidly becoming locked in ice.
“It’s like a skating rink!” said Portia.
“Not down here it isn’t.” Lawrence, always ready to argue with his sister, ran down the dock toward the open harbor. Here the ice was not as solidified. Instead, it floated around the boats in thick, circular floes.
Portia skipped down the dock after her brother, calling, “Let me see!”
Jilly, Felicia, and Archie ran after the little girl who was only four years old and even in her pink puffy parka seemed tiny on the narrow dock. “Don’t run!” they appealed as they ran.
“These things are cool!” Lawrence lay on the dock with his head hanging down for a closer look at the miniature icebergs.
“Lawrence, get up,” Jilly ordered. “These boards are covered with gull poo.”
“Really?” Lawrence cackled as if this was the funniest thing he’d ever heard, but he did stand up. “I thought the white stuff was snow. Grandma Jelly, why is the ice frozen solid up by the sidewalk but there is no ice past the docks?” Jilly hesitated. She turned to Archie. “Maybe you can answer that question better than I can.”
“The ice freezes in the boat basin first because there’s less movement of water. The wind stirs up the harbor water more because it’s not protected by the wharves.”
“Oh, look, a mommy and daddy duck!” Portia scampered back down the dock, clumsy in her pink snow boots, waving and yelling, “Hello, duckies!”
All three adults ran back after her. Archie caught her as she was trying to climb on the ladder down to the ice, and swung her up onto his shoulders.
�
��Sweetheart,” Jilly reminded her granddaughter in a serious voice, “we asked you not to run on the dock. There’s ice on the wood and it’s slippery. You could easily fall in.”
“Okay, Grandma Jelly,” Portia sweetly agreed, clutching Archie’s wool hat. “Hey, where’s Lawrence?”
The three adults whipped around to stare at the end of the dock.
No little boy.
They thundered down the dock, Archie holding on to Portia’s ankles as he ran.
Looking down, they spotted Lawrence sitting on a round ice floe, waving at them.
“Way awesome,” called Lawrence. “I’ve got my own little boat.”
“Oh my Lord,” whispered Jilly, her hand to her chest where her heart had begun to race.
“Put me down!” begged Portia, kicking her legs against Archie’s shoulders. “I want to go out on the ice, too.”
Felicia knelt on the dock. She spoke slowly, attempting to keep calm as her nephew bobbed in the icy water. “How did he get there? Oh. Look. A wooden ladder.” Rising, she glanced around. “I would think they would keep some kind of life preserver here somewhere. We could throw it to him and haul him back.”
“Haul him back?” Jilly repeated, and then gasped as she realized what was happening. The outgoing tide was slowly, gently, almost unnoticeably, but irrevocably carrying Lawrence on his ice raft out into the surging open harbor.
Archie carefully set Portia on the dock. Sternly, he said to the little girl, “Portia, I want you to hold your grandmother’s hand and don’t let go.” As he stood up, he said to Jilly, “Keep hold of her hand and don’t let go, okay?”
Jilly nodded, understanding from Archie’s expression the gravity of the matter. Lawrence was light enough to sit on the ice floe without breaking it, but he didn’t have a paddle or oar to navigate with. In the few seconds she had been talking to Archie, the ice raft had moved a few more feet away from the dock toward the open harbor where the wind made the waves leap and splash.
“I can’t find a life preserver anywhere,” Felicia told her fiancé. “Should I run over to the Ship Chandlery?”
