Naughty or Nice

by Barbra Annino

  Dane was so lost in wife’s warmth that he wasn’t paying attention to his brother.

  “It’s not broken, Dane. You just need to twist this crank.” Nathan reached inside the red coat of the doll and turned a lever.

  “No, don’t!” Dane shouted.

  But it was too late.

  Chapter 3

  Julia squealed as the head of the doll creaked from side to side, its blue eyes fluttering as if it were reading the piece of paper beneath its life-like hand.

  “Whoa,” Nathan said.

  Dane held his breath. He shouldn’t have programmed it. It was too soon. She might even blame him. Julia was superstitious about things like that. He bit his thumbnail. Cynthia stood and stepped over to the automaton. The doll’s arm raised, dipped the pen in the inkwell and put it to the paper. It began scratching out a message.

  Dane said, “Julia, why don’t you get the camera.”

  She was hovering near the doll, watching it work with an intensity he hadn’t seen in her since they were first married. “In a minute, honey.”

  Nathan said, “Fascinating. It looks so real.”

  “Too real,” said Cynthia.

  They all gathered around the machine watching its motions and movements. Dane started babbling on about what he had learned about how the automaton functioned, hoping to distract Julia long enough to spill the ink across the page.

  “It contains six thousand parts. The movements are controlled by a stack of cams in the back there.”

  Nathan peaked inside the red velvet jacket of the doll, but Julia’s eyes were glued to the boy.

  “It’s just gibberish, I’m sure,” said Dane. He moved forward, but Julia was blocking the ink.

  After a few minutes, Cynthia said, “Not at all. That looks like English to me.”

  The doll had spelled out the word Merry.

  Dane said, “Nathan, it’s your turn to open your gift.”

  Nathan waved his brother away. “I want to see this.”

  The doll had written the next word. Christmas.

  Dane clapped his hands. “That’s it. Why don’t we put this away now. It’s very fragile. I wouldn’t want it to get knocked over.”

  Dane reached for the automaton, but Julia touched his arm. “Wait, it’s writing more.”

  The doll tilted its head, almost as if it were thinking, and scratched out the last word. Its hands moved back and forth, its eyes watching the page as it wrote.

  Mommy.

  Nathan snapped his head up and caught Dane’s gaze. No one spoke for several moments.

  Julia seemed stunned, anchored in place by some unseen force. Slowly she lifted her eyes to her husband. They were swimming in tears. She cleared her throat and said, “Excuse me.”

  She couldn’t get out of the room fast enough.

  Cynthia stared after her daughter-in-law. “I’m afraid it’s not the heap of metal that’s the fragile one, Dane.”

  “Mother, please,” said Dane.

  Nathan took the doll and moved it into the next room. Somewhere, a door opened and shut.

  Cynthia waved her martini in the direction Julia had run. “All I’m saying is that a politician’s wife needs to be stronger than that. How on earth will she handle the White House if she gets all worked up about a silly toy?”

  “The White House,” Nathan said, stepping back into the room. “Aren’t you missing a few steps in there somewhere, Mother? It wasn’t that long ago that he was the district attorney.”

  Dane ran his hands through his brown hair. “It’s not about the toy, Mother, and you know it.”

  Cynthia rolled her eyes. “It’s been months, Dane. Surely she’s recovered by now. It was her third miscarriage, after all. It’s not as if she hadn’t gone through it before.”

  Nathan picked up his wineglass. “That’s an excellent display of sympathy, Mother. No wonder Dad never wanted you to volunteer at a soup kitchen no matter how great the photo op.”

  Cynthia glared at her youngest son. “You mean like the one you run?”

  Dane said, “Enough.”

  “I’m proud of the work I do, Mother, even if you’re not,” Nathan said. He looked at Dane. “I’ll go check on her. I could use the fresh air.”

  Dane watched as his brother left to tend to his wife. He turned to face his mother. “Why must you always do that?”

  “I’m only trying to help, dear.”

  “Really? And how is that?”

  His mother put her drink down and walked toward Dane. She placed her arms on his shoulders.

  “You need to toughen that girl up or you’ll wind up watching everything you’ve worked for swirl right down the tubes.”

  Dane gave his mother a stony look. “Like Dad did?”

  “Your father’s problem was never his wife.”

  “No, it was his extracurricular activities.”

  “And did I once bat an eyelash? No. I stood by my husband’s side and held my head high in a show of strength and support.”

  “How very noble of you.”

  “It was noble. You think I did it for me? For you? For your father?” She shook her head. “I did it for the people we serve. America doesn’t want a divorcée for senator. They want families running their government with kids and pets.” She glanced behind her. “And they certainly don’t want a first lady with a mental problem.”

  Dane seethed at his mother and shrugged away from her. He walked over to the bar and poured himself a healthy scotch. “Depression is very common. And Julia’s had hers under control for quite a while.”

  “I thought she stopped taking her medication.”

  “She prefers homeopathic treatments.”

  Cynthia rolled her eyes. She pulled a cigarette from her purse. “Oh please. Give me the good old days when you popped a pill and took a nap when things got a little harried.”

  She reached for a lighter.

  “I’ve asked you not to smoke in here, Mother,” Dane said.

  Cynthia made a show of walking over to the fireplace. She sat in front of it, lit her cigarette, and blew it up the chimney. “Better?”

  Dane had a sudden image of his mother’s hair catching on fire and the thought pleased him. He took a belt of the scotch, sat back, and smiled.

  Chapter 4

  The French doors opened to the deck where Julia stood leaning over the railing, staring out at the trees and the vast property that was the Caulfield compound. She didn’t have to turn around to know that it was Nathan behind her. Nathan was the sensitive one. The one who could be in the presence of a crying woman without desperately trying to fix her. Or piece her back together again like she was Humpty Dumpty who had had a great fall. Dane, she was certain, would still be near the Christmas tree, chastising his mother and rallying for world peace.

  Nathan said, “Can I interest you in a cup of holiday cheer?”

  Julia turned and accepted the glass of red wine that Nathan offered her. “Thank you.”

  She pulled her sweater tighter around her as a chill rushed by. She turned back to gaze at the crisp, faded grass and said, “You think we’ll have a white Christmas?”

  Nathan sidled up next to her. “Is that what you want to talk about? The weather?”

  She tilted her head to watch his face. Nathan resembled Dane in so many ways. They looked alike, as any brothers would, but not as close as twins should. Dane’s chin was strong and prominent, while Nathan’s was more rounded. Nathan’s eyes were a shade lighter blue than Dane’s. His hair was lighter too. And while Dane had a soft, easy smile, Nathan had a crooked, playful grin. The resulting effect was a face that everyone trusted, while Dane always looked like he carried secrets behind his eyes.

  She supposed that was what had fluttered her stomach the first time she met Dane. There was a mystery about him. He didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve, but she felt protected whenever he was near her. He had it all together and she felt, as she did standing there on that deck right then, that he knew things abo
ut life, about people, and the world that she could never fully understand. Maybe it was a daddy complex, maybe not, but with Dane, it was as if they could ride out any storm as long as they were in it together. He took care of her in ways she never dreamed possible. But it was Nathan she allowed herself to feel vulnerable around. It was Nathan she trusted with her insecurities and fears.

  “I’m sorry about that back there. It just hit me, you know?”

  Nathan nodded. “Yeah.”

  “I really am okay, Nate. I just ...” her voice caught on the wind and trailed off into the night.

  “What?”

  “It was the longest term I’d had. I thought I’d be a mother by now.” She allowed herself one fat tear.

  It dribbled down her cheek and Nathan wiped it away.

  “It’ll happen, Julia.”

  Would it? she thought. Because they had stopped trying ever since she lost the last baby. Stopped the treatments, stopped the monitoring of her cycle. Stopped having sex even.

  She turned to her brother-in-law, grateful that she could talk about it, if just for tonight. Dane was a good husband, but he had been groomed—no, trained—to keep his emotions in check. The harsh reality of her failed pregnancies could only be discussed so many times before he grew uncomfortable. Or suggested another doctor’s visit to “make her feel better.”

  “What if it doesn’t?”

  Nathan shrugged and gave her that crooked smile. “Then it doesn’t. You can adopt.”

  “Oh, I’m sure your mother would love that.”

  Nathan sipped his wine. “You really shouldn’t let her get to you.”

  “You’re right. I’ll never measure up.”

  “Julia, the Pope couldn’t measure up.”

  This made Julia laugh and soon they were both in stitches sharing jokes about Cynthia.

  “Come on,” Nathan said. “It’s freezing out here.”

  When she turned to go inside, Julia noticed a curtain flutter upstairs. As if someone had been at the window. As if someone had been watching them.

  Chapter 5

  “Where’s Dane?” Julia asked Cynthia who had a fresh drink in her hands. The older woman had kicked off her shoes and was sucking on an olive.

  “He’s in the den with my brother.” Cynthia pointed to the doorway that led to the room in the front of the seven-thousand-square-foot house.

  “Uncle Ron’s here?” asked Nate.

  Cynthia held up her martini. “The one and only.”

  Dane and Ron walked back into the room. Ron was a large, boisterous man with little hair who loved knock-knock jokes and cheesecake.

  “Hey! There’s my Julie-bean.”

  Julia adored Ron. He was like a big teddy bear you just couldn’t resist hugging. Ron scooped her up and gave her a squeeze.

  “Hi, Uncle Ron. How are you?”

  “Better than I was yesterday, but not as good as I’ll be after I have this drink.”

  Ron clinked glasses with Julia, took an ample swig, and said, “Knock-knock.”

  “Who’s there?”

  “Honey bee.”

  “Honey bee who?”

  “Honey be a dear and refresh my drink.”

  “Coming right up.”

  Julia walked over to the bar with a smile on her face and Dane joined her.

  “I’m sorry, Julia,” he said softly.

  Julia squeezed her husband’s arm. “Don’t be. Please. It’s fine. I really do like it.”

  “I’ll get rid of it, I promise.”

  That was Dane’s solution to any problem. Get rid of it. Sweep it under the rug. Out of sight, out of mind. If it’s not here to look at, it never happened.

  But Julia felt that this was one thing she couldn’t let go. She truly was inexplicably drawn to the little writer boy. In fact, she had started dabbling in fiction in the evenings when her assignments were complete and Dane was working late. She decided that maybe this was just the mascot she needed for her office.

  “No, don’t. I want to keep it. It can be our inspiration.” She didn’t say, to try again, but she was thinking it. Not now, but soon. Maybe in the spring.

  Dane’s face flushed a light shade of pink. Either from the scotch, the fire, or happiness, Julia couldn’t be sure and she didn’t care. He looked relieved and that was all that mattered.

  “I can get it reprogrammed,” he said. “My uncle owned a clock repair shop years ago before he started working for my dad. He might be able to figure out how to program it.”

  Dane wished he had gone to his uncle in the first place rather than the clockmaker the shopkeeper had recommended.

  “I think that’s a great idea,” said Julia. She sipped her wine, listening to Bing Crosby croon “White Christmas” through the speakers, watching her family happily chatting. She turned to Dane. “Not yet though. Let’s wait until after the holidays.”

  That night, after Cynthia retired to her room and Nathan went to pick up his children from his ex-wife’s house, Julia made love to her husband for the first time in months. She drifted off to sleep, more contentedly than she had felt in a long while.

  ***

  The sounds of children squealing in delight, racing up and down the hallway, stirred Julia from her slumber on Christmas morning.

  She padded to the bathroom first, then climbed into a gray sweat suit, wool socks and slippers, and walked into the hallway.

  Jeremy was the first one to race down the hall and Julia caught him mid-run. She twirled her six-year-old nephew around by his arms and he burst into a fit of giggles.

  “I gotcha!” She showered his cherub cheeks with kisses as Leanne, her ten-year-old niece, rounded a corner.

  “Sorry if we woke you up, Aunt Julia.”

  Julia waved her arm. “That’s all right, I didn’t want to sleep the day away anyway.” She hugged Leanne. “Would you like to help me make breakfast?”

  “Grandma’s having brunch cartered,” said Jeremy.

  “Cartered?” Julia asked.

  Leanne said, “Catered.”

  “On Christmas?” Leanne shrugged and rolled her eyes, which mirrored Julia’s feelings about the plans as well.

  The kids bustled off and Julia went downstairs to find her mother-in-law wearing a silky emerald green pantsuit and gold flats. She was coifed, plucked, and perfumed, and was about to pour a mimosa.

  Cynthia turned to Julia, smiled and said, “Hello, sweetheart. Don’t you look comfortable?”

  Julia smoothed her hair down, wishing she had at least pulled it back into a ponytail.

  “I thought I’d make breakfast for everyone,” Julia said.

  Cynthia uncorked the champagne. “Not necessary. My caterer is already on the way.”

  “But it’s Christmas. Doesn’t the caterer want to spend time with family?”

  Cynthia gave Julia a steady stare. “I am like family to Margaret. Besides,” she turned to add a splash of orange juice to the crystal flute, “it will only be for a couple of hours and I pay handsomely on the holidays.”

  Julia knew from experience that it was best not to argue with her mother-in-law. The woman never met a fight she couldn’t win and Julia suspected that was part of the reason her father-in-law had been so successful. Now, Cynthia had her clutches in Dane, putting stars in his eyes and dreams in his head of one day running the country. Julia often prayed that day would never come. She didn’t want to live in the spotlight, didn’t want to be scrutinized about everything from her hairstyle to her choice of evening gown. Cynthia knew this and Julia had long ago realized that that, coupled with Julia’s lack of breeding, would always be the wedge between her and her mother-in-law. It wasn’t just that Julia wasn’t good enough for her son, it was that she wasn’t good enough to be a candidate’s wife.

  Julia sighed. While she didn’t like the idea of strangers in her home on Christmas Day, it wasn’t worth the trouble to protest. Especially not with the children here. It’s only for another week, she reminded herself.

/>   Cynthia offered Julia a mimosa, which she declined.

  “I think I’ll just get some coffee.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  Julia padded into the kitchen where Ron was reading a spy novel and sipping coffee. He was wearing a wool sweater over a collared shirt, a pair of reading glasses perched on the end of his nose.

  She greeted him and he looked up from his book, beaming at her. “Hey, sunshine. How’s tricks?”

  “I’ll let you know after I’ve had my coffee,” she said.

  Ron chuckled. “My sister getting on your nerves yet?”

  Julia found a mug in the cupboard and poured the coffee. “Of course not. Why would you suggest such a thing?”

  She reached for the cream that was sitting on the kitchen table in front of Ron and winked at him.

  He marked his book and closed it. “Well, don’t let her get to you, kiddo. She means well.” He patted Julia’s hand.

  Julia decided not to respond to that as she sipped her coffee. Instead, she asked, “Have you seen my present?”

  Ron said, “Oh yes. The automaton. Very impressive.” He raised his eyebrow. “Must have set Dane back a pretty penny.” Ron took a swig of coffee. “That’s a rare find you’ve got there.”

  Julia never thought much about money these days, now that she had it. Besides her own income, Dane had inherited a small fortune when his grandfather and then his father had passed. Nathan too, although he had lost much of it in the divorce and sunk the rest into the restaurant. Which, if she were being honest, ran through money like a sieve. But Nathan was devoted to it and the people who worked there so she wished him well.

  “Did Dane mention to you that we were thinking of having it reprogrammed?”

  “No,” Ron said, “But I’d be happy to take a look.”

  Ron made a movement like he was about to get up, but Julia stopped him. “Not now, sometime after the holidays. I’ll bring it by your place.”

  “It’s a date,” Ron said.

  Julia offered to refresh his coffee, but her uncle-in-law declined. “I’m going to see a man about a horse.”