Emma felt a smile rise instantly to her lips. Surviving the aunt, he wrote. But stories to tell when I see you.
And Emma wrote: Can’t wait to hear them when you’re home.
Home, she thought, turning out the light on the bedside table. It could be a pretty amazing thing.
CHAPTER 76
At a little after eleven o’clock Andie looked up from the book she was reading—a new exploration of Mahayana Buddhism, from which Zen Buddhism, so popular in the Western world, had grown—to see her sister descending the stairs. “You okay?” she asked, putting the book onto the cushion next to her.
“I couldn’t stay asleep,” Emma explained. “Too much on my mind, I guess.”
“Care to share?” Andie asked. She supposed that the confrontation with Ian was still preying on Emma.
Emma flopped into the armchair that had been their mother’s. “Ian left his slippers here.”
“Oh. And?”
“And nothing, I guess. Should I mail them back to him?”
“No. I’m sure Ian will be fine without them.”
Emma suddenly looked sheepish. “Andie? You believe me when I say that my ending things with Ian had nothing at all to do with another man?”
“Of course I believe you.”
“The thing is, now I think there just might be another man. Morgan Shelby. I have feelings for him. It’s all very tentative at the moment. Honestly, I don’t really know what he feels about me, if anything other than mere friendliness. Though he did kiss me the night we went to the theater to see A Christmas Carol. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that I was meeting him that evening. I’ve just been so . . . It was a sweet kiss. It was very nice.”
Andie smiled. “I’ve always believed that true lovers have known each other from the very start, long before they finally meet.”
“Like with Mom and Dad?” Emma said. “You mean they didn’t actually meet on that city bus? They simply recognized each other across the aisle?” And then she laughed. “Maybe someday I’ll be telling Danny’s kids how I fell in love with the great love of my life when he came into the bakery for a corn muffin!”
“Now, that’s what I call romance! Great things can grow from humble beginnings, Emma. You know, I’d begun to suspect something was up with you and Morgan,” Andie admitted. “When we were at the Angry Squire with Maureen. The look on your face when his name was mentioned. And I stand by what I said then. He seems like a good man.”
“I think he is, and Maureen says he’s honorable. But, Andie, it’s completely unlike me to fall for someone in a matter of days!”
“There’s always a first time! And remember, you and Morgan might have known each other all along. It’s yet to be seen. But a long distance relationship is never easy, you know.”
“I know,” Emma said, plucking at the belt on her robe.
Andie had the distinct feeling there was something her sister wasn’t telling her, but it would wait. Emma would share all in good time; it was never wise to force a confidence. “Well,” she said, “whatever happens with you two, I’m happy for you.”
Emma smiled. “Thanks, Andie. You and Rumi seemed much more relaxed with each other this evening.”
“Yes. Rumi and I have arrived at a good place. Bob was wonderful, of course, bringing us together at his house for dinner. As you said, being brave enough to force the moment to its crisis.”
“I’m so glad things are on the mend. I think she’s sensitive in the way that you are, Andie. I think she’s very easily affected by other people’s energies, if that’s the right term.”
“Though I’ve learned how to detach.” Andie smiled. “Well, at least to some extent some of the time. Healthy detachment is a work always in progress.”
“Maybe Rumi can learn more from you,” Emma suggested.
“Maybe. You know, only a few days ago I was viewing this visit home as something to be endured and survived. But now I believe this visit is an occasion for celebration and rejoicing.”
Emma smiled. “I’m so glad,” she said. “Really.”
Just then Caro Carlyle Reynolds’s antique grandfather clock struck midnight, and both sisters jumped.
“That’s something I never want to have in my house!” Andie said, putting her hand to her heart. “Sometimes I think it’s worse than that old alarm clock!”
Emma lowered her voice to a mock whisper. “Don’t tell Danny,” she said, “but I tossed the alarm clock.”
Andie laughed. “Your secret is safe with me. Merry Christmas, Emma.”
“Merry Christmas, Andie.”
And, Andie thought, it did indeed feel like a truly merry Christmas.
CHAPTER 77
Daniel was sitting next to Anna Maria on the couch, sipping his second cup of coffee. They’d had breakfast at home before coming to Honeysuckle Lane to open yet more gifts with his sisters. He had gotten each of them something special—the packages were sitting by his side—in spite of the fact that the siblings hadn’t been in the habit of exchanging gifts in years.
Andie and Emma had been generous with his children and there was nothing unusual there. Emma had given Sophia that massive tome on clothing or costumes or something, and Sophia had been oohing and ahhing loudly since she opened the book. To Marco she had given that video camera he’d been going on about, and already he had announced plans to begin filming as soon as they got home.
And Andie’s gifts were also a hit. To Sophia she had given a length of fabric in a paisley print of bright blues and purples. “Your mom told me you’d been learning to sew, and I thought, why not some fabric?” she’d told her niece. “There’s enough there for you to really play around with. Plenty to make a skirt or a dress or just something funky.”
Sophia had thanked her aunt with a big hug. “Maybe,” she’d said, “I’ll get good enough and make something for you!”
To Marco Andie had gifted another thing he’d specifically asked for—a thesaurus. “Words are cool,” he’d told his father, after thanking his aunt. “There’s so many of them, and people are inventing new ones all the time!”
Maybe he’ll be a writer after all, Daniel thought.
“This package says it’s from Ian.” Marco, kneeling by the tree, looked to his father. “Why did he just come for dinner and not stay over?” he asked.
Sophia frowned at her brother. “That’s Aunt Emma’s personal business, Marco.”
Daniel hid a smile. Sophia enjoyed lording her exalted status as a twelve-year-old—”almost a teenager”—over her ten-year-old brother. But Marco could hold his own. He frowned back at his sister and then turned to Andie.
“You know, Aunt Andie,” he said, “I don’t believe in Santa Claus anymore.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I was such a kid last year, but now I know better. Santa Claus is just Mom and Dad.”
Andie sighed. “I kind of wish I still believed in Santa Claus. I think it’s a good thing to embrace a little magic.”
Marco shrugged and turned his attention back to tearing the paper off his package. Ian had done nicely, Daniel saw. To Marco he had given a new light for his bike (lights were always getting lost), and for Sophia, he had chosen a selection of the wide hair bands she loved to wear.
“It was nice of Ian to bring gifts for the children,” Anna Maria said diplomatically.
“If a bit manipulative,” Emma, sitting on the floor with her back against the couch, added softly. Andie, sitting cross-legged not far from Emma, grunted.
Daniel smiled. “You think? But here,” he said, handing each of his sisters a wrapped package about the size of a shoe box. “This is from me. Merry Christmas.”
“But, Danny,” Emma said, “we haven’t given each other Christmas gifts in years. I have nothing for you.”
“Giving gifts isn’t about accounting. I’m not asking for anything in return.” Except gratitude, he thought, smiling at his wife. And now I know without a doubt that I have my sisters’ gratitude and their re
spect.
Emma and Andie each opened their packages to find a beautiful wooden box decorated with inlay.
“This is gorgeous, Danny!” Emma exclaimed.
“Truly lovely,” Andie added. “Thank you.”
“I’m glad you like them. They were made by a craftsman in Somerstown,” Daniel explained. “I met him at one of the parties we catered last year. He shows his work at the Foss Gallery and at a gallery in Lawrenceville as well.” What Daniel didn’t tell his sisters was that he had decided only the day before to give them each a gift this year. He had managed to catch Harry Peters just moments before he was leaving his studio for the holiday; as luck would have it, Harry had a few finished pieces ready at hand. “Emma,” Daniel went on, “your box is made of mahogany and the inlay is done in ash. Andie, yours is walnut and the inlay is maple. Look inside. There’s a small treasure for each of you.”
Emma opened the lid of her box first and extracted a sheet of paper. “It’s a copy of Dad’s love note to Mom,” she said in surprise. “The one we found in the photo album.”
“Thank you, Danny,” Andie said, smiling at her copy. “This is a treasure indeed.”
Daniel cleared his throat. “It’s like Emma said. They were our parents, not just mine. I’ve put the original back where Emma found it, just so you know.”
While his sisters admired and compared their presents, Daniel thought about the one great big treasure his wife had presented him with just that morning. He was dying to share his good fortune with his family, but he had promised Anna Maria they would wait until dinner to make their happy announcement. Still, he was afraid the smile that kept coming to his face would give him away. And they had made the possible mistake of already telling Sophia and Marco. If they all could keep the secret until dinner it would be a miracle.
“Hey.” Marco suddenly got to his feet and pointed to the fireplace. “Where’s the picture of Grandma and Grandpa?”
Daniel felt his face flush. Neither of his sisters nor his wife offered an explanation, but studiously kept their eyes from him. “It was dirty,” Daniel blurted. “It’s gone to be cleaned.”
“When’s it coming back?” Sophia asked.
“I don’t know exactly,” Daniel went on. “Soon?”
Marco snorted. “I hope it never comes back. That thing is weird.”
And at once, Anna Maria, Emma, and Andie broke out in splutterings of laughter. Daniel tried to control his own laughter, but it was a wasted effort. When he had recovered enough to speak, he said, “Okay, time to get ready to leave for church. Andie? Emma? Are you coming with us?” He would like it if his sisters came along, but he would not criticize them if they did not. Emma and Andie might not share his every opinion and belief, but they were his sisters and deserving of as much respect as he wanted and needed from them in return.
“Sure, I’ll go,” Emma said. “Just give me a moment to tidy myself up. I can’t show up for Christmas services in sweatpants, even though it is the Unitarian Universalist Church!”
“Count me in.” Andie got up from the floor, where she had been surrounded by crumpled wrapping paper. “Prayer never hurt anyone. And I think what I’m wearing is just fine. Harem pants are universally approved of, aren’t they?”
Daniel laughed again. He had so much for which to be thankful this Christmas, including his sister’s goofy attempt at a joke.
* * *
Bob and Rumi came over to the house midafternoon after having had breakfast with Bob’s cousins in Smithstown. They came bearing several jars of homemade raspberry jam—“My friend Sally makes it,” Rumi told them—and two loaves of blackberry-zucchini bread, baked just that morning by Bob himself. “Not that we need more food,” he said, handing the loaves to Daniel. “But I just couldn’t help myself.”
At five o’clock the family gathered around the dining room table, once again set with one of Caro’s fine linen tablecloths and napkins (carefully pressed by Emma that morning), silverware, plates, and glasses. Daniel had made a traditional roast goose dinner but, as he had the night before, he had also prepared a few interesting vegetarian dishes for Andie.
“I’m learning,” he told her. “It’s a challenge and a challenge is always good. Besides, so many people are vegetarians these days, I really should be offering creative meat-free options at parties.”
“Smart idea,” his sister told him. “I’ll send you some of my favorite recipes to try out.”
Bob asked if he could be the one to offer a toast, and the idea met with no opposition. “To our family,” he said. “May we all continue to thrive in our love for one another.”
Then the food was passed, and after the initial exclamations of praise and approval of the meal had died down, Daniel felt that the moment had come. So far the day had been one of quiet celebration. But as he cleared his throat and looked to his wife, sitting at his right hand, for her go ahead, he suspected things were about to get exciting.
“Anna Maria and I have an announcement to make,” he said. And then he felt his throat choke with tears and he simply couldn’t go on.
Anna Maria took his hand. “We’re having another baby,” she told the family.
“Marco and I knew already!” Sophia cried before anyone else could react. “I was so afraid I wouldn’t be able to keep it a secret.”
Anna Maria’s announcement was met by a chorus of congratulations and exclamations of surprise and happiness. When it had died down, Marco shrugged. “I don’t know what the big deal is. Babies are boring. They just sleep.”
“Ha!” Sophia said. “That’s what you know!”
Daniel, his voice recovered, said, “I wish Mom and Dad were with us to share this moment.”
“One of my teachers says that when people die and go to heaven they can look down on you to see if you’re okay.” Marco turned to his father. “So Grandma and Grandpa are kind of here, Dad.”
Andie smiled at her brother, and Emma asked, “When are you due?”
“Next August,” Anna Maria told them. “A Virgo baby, just like Daniel.”
“Oh, no,” Emma said teasingly. “Another Virgo!”
“Do you want to know the sex of the baby?” Rumi asked.
Anna Maria shook her head. “Nope. I love a surprise!”
Marco frowned. “I hope it’s a boy. I already have a sister.”
“You’ll love the baby no matter what sex he or she is,” Daniel assured his son. But Marco only frowned more deeply.
The meal proceeded with much laughter and general good feeling. When the main course had been cleared, Anna Maria lowered the lights in the dining room, and to great applause Daniel brought the Christmas pudding to the table. It had been made months earlier and had been waiting in the pantry in a rum-soaked piece of muslin to make its grand entrance.
“You did Mom proud,” Emma told him. “She said she never really felt like it was Christmas until the pudding came out!”
“And you even got Christmas crackers! How did you manage to find them?” Andie asked, holding up one of the tubes of paper wrapped in brightly colored foil. “Mom often had trouble tracking them down. I think one year she even ordered a box straight from England.”
Daniel shrugged. “The Internet, where else?”
“I’ll pull the other end of your cracker, Aunt Andie,” Sophia said eagerly. Together Daniel’s daughter and sister pulled on either twisted end of the tube, and with a loud crack! the cracker opened to reveal its paper crown, a bit of paper with a joke printed on it, and a trinket. “You got a little dog!” Sophia announced. “Now read your joke.”
Andie cleared her throat. “Okay,” she said, “here goes. ‘Where does a general keep his armies?’ ”
Daniel and the others shrugged.
“Give up?” Andie laughed. “ ‘In his sleevies!’ ”
There was a collective groan and then a series of small explosions as the others opened their crackers. Daniel sliced the pudding, and when everyone had been served, Marco suddenly st
ood up.
“I want to say something,” he announced. “I want to say, ‘God bless us, everyone!’ It’s what Tiny Tim says in the story.”
Daniel felt himself beaming with pleasure and with pride. “I’ll echo that sentiment,” he said, raising his glass. “God bless us, everyone.”
CHAPTER 78
As she was getting dressed the next morning, Emma found herself fondly remembering how her mother had insisted on referring to the day after Christmas as Boxing Day, as indeed it had been known in her family for generations, first in England and then the United States. The fact that Caro had no servants to whom she could give a Christmas box didn’t matter. What did matter was that she make the day a special one for her family. Caro had inherited two very special family recipes, one for roasted chestnuts—not as easy to prepare, Emma knew, as one might think—and a rich baked fruitcake drizzled with marzipan icing. She served each of these delicacies at dinner on the twenty-sixth, and she also gave her husband and each of her children a small handcrafted gift—a bookmark made with pressed wildflowers, an embroidered handkerchief, a needlework eyeglass case, a brightly painted toy soldier ornament made with empty spools of thread.
“Thanks for all you did for us, Mom,” Emma whispered to the room, looking once again at Caro’s wedding portrait. “I’m sorry if I didn’t say that often enough when you were here.”
And now I’m here, Emma thought, and for good this time.
That very morning Emma had woken from a refreshing, almost dreamless sleep, with the decision finally and firmly made. She would once and for all give up her life in Annapolis and move back to Oliver’s Well. She would buy the house in which she had grown up and she would move steadily and bravely into the next phase of her life.
Christmas on Honeysuckle Lane Page 35
