Home for Christmas

by Holly Chamberlin

  Abruptly, Nell turned from the window and hurried over to her desk. She reached for a pen and one of her old notebooks from the pile stacked atop the desk. She opened the notebook, and along a clean margin she began to write, her thoughts outdistancing her hand. She frowned and crossed out a word and scribbled three more, turning the notebook to follow the clean margin. She wrote until suddenly she stopped. She read what she had written and nodded. The resulting lines were perhaps not very good, but what was good was that the impulse, the need to write had returned. Nell laughed to herself. She would need to buy some new notebooks and a package of her favorite blue pens and maybe the good old-fashioned number two pencils she had loved to use. And a pencil sharpener. She would need a pencil sharpener, too.

  Nell closed the curtains over the window, got into bed, and turned off the lamp on her bedside table. She knew now for a fact that even if tomorrow proved to be the last time she ever saw Eric Manville face-to-face, she would be okay. For an unbelievable second time in her life he had gifted her with energy and belief in her talents. And she was stronger now than she had been all those years ago, strong enough to finally live as she had been meant to live, with poetry in her soul. And with poetry in her soul she would never truly be alone.

  Molly was right, Nell thought, her eyes beginning to close. You never did forget your first love. For some that could be a curse, but for Nell it had turned out to be a blessing.

  Chapter 35

  The sun shone brightly Christmas morning, almost blindingly so. Snow was no longer falling from the sky but was heaped fantastically on every surface, from the ground to the birdbath, from the branches of trees to the outcropping of rock along the left side of the backyard. Earlier, Nell had spotted a cardinal swooping across the front yard, a pop of scarlet that brought a smile to her face.

  The King family was gathered around the kitchen table. Nell had made eggs Benedict for all three of them; the girls had long ago lost interest in pancakes shaped like angels.

  “I am so going to miss your cooking when I’m away at school next year,” Felicity stated. “You’re going to send me care packages, right?”

  Nell smiled. “Sure, but I don’t think eggs Benedict will travel well.”

  Felicity was wearing the white gold and diamond cocktail ring that had belonged to her great aunt Prudence. It didn’t quite go with her plaid pajamas and fuzzy robe, but Felicity didn’t seem to mind. Molly had thanked her mother sincerely for the gift of the platter; Nell believed it would get good and frequent use wherever and with whomever her daughter established her own home.

  Felicity suddenly dropped her fork on the table, sat back in her chair, and groaned. “I don’t think I can eat another bite all day after that breakfast.”

  “Haven’t you ever heard of pacing yourself?” Molly asked with a smile.

  Felicity groaned again. “Apparently not.”

  “Shoveling will make you hungry again. We at least need to clear the driveway and the path to the front door.” Molly suddenly rose from the table. “Let’s go into the living room,” she said. “Fliss and I have one more present for you, Mom.”

  “Like the sweater from L. L. Bean and the new leather gloves from the Bass outlet weren’t enough? Really, you shouldn’t have spent so much money on me.”

  Felicity reached for her mother’s hand and pulled her up from her seat. “Just come on,” she said.

  When they were in the living room, Molly directed her mother to the center of the couch and sat on her left. Felicity retrieved a package about the size of a trade paperback book from a drawer in the credenza and sat on her mother’s right.

  “Go ahead,” she said. “Open it.”

  “What are you two up to?” Nell asked as she carefully peeled back the wrapping paper to reveal a framed photograph of two smiling young women, each perched on one knee of a man in a Santa Claus costume. The young women were Molly and Felicity King. They were wearing elf hats. Molly wore a red sweater and a silver brooch in the shape of a snowflake. Felicity wore a green scarf and a brooch in the shape of a reindeer.

  Tears sprang to Nell’s eyes. “This photo means everything to me,” she said. “Everything.”

  “Good,” Molly told her, “because not everyone at Santa Central was happy about us wanting to sit on Santa’s lap. The mall guard told us it was just for children and that we had to leave, so I told him that Fliss and I were children and that we were having the picture taken for our mother as a surprise and if he didn’t let us on line he would be ruining a woman’s Christmas.” Molly grinned. “I might have hinted that you were sick and that this might be your last Christmas.”

  Nell laughed and wiped a few remaining tears from her cheeks.

  “Anyway, it was Fliss’s idea to get the picture taken,” Molly explained. “I wasn’t sure about it at first, but I’m glad we did it.”

  “Me, too.” Nell put an arm around each of her daughters. “I was so focused on this Christmas possibly being our last together I almost forgot that we’re all here together now, and this moment in time is what counts the most.”

  “Our last Christmas together?” Felicity said. “What are you talking about, Mom? Even if we move to California or London or wherever we’ll always come home to Yorktide and to you. Why wouldn’t we? You’ve been an awesome mother and a great role model.”

  “Even though I never had a big exciting career?” Nell asked.

  Molly laughed. “Nothing against having a big exciting career, but what kid wouldn’t prefer to come home to her mother after school rather than to an empty house? You did fine, Mom. What matters in the end is how much a child is loved.”

  “I agree!” Felicity reached for the heavily decorated brown paper that had been wrapped around one of the presents Nell had given her. “And I’d say that anyone who takes the time to put together this amazing gift paper instead of just buying a cheap roll of shiny stuff at the grocery store has a lot of love to give her kids.”

  “You’re okay with the fact that I didn’t get you the designer bag you wanted?” Nell asked.

  “Yeah. It was crazy expensive. I don’t know what I was thinking. This Christmas is perfect just the way it is.”

  “Except maybe for the stockings,” Molly said with a smile, pointing to Nell’s creations that were sitting under the tree in a lump.

  “I think they’re . . . nice,” Felicity said lamely.

  Nell laughed. “No they’re not. They’re awful. I can’t knit to save my life. You guys were right in teasing me about my going overboard this Christmas. The pomander balls, the baking, the crèche, the trees, the Advent calendar . . . I was trying to prove that nothing out there in the big wide world is better than what you have here at home.”

  “Mom,” Felicity said with mock seriousness, “you’re kind of a nut, you know that?”

  Molly gave her mother a one-armed hug. “But you’re our nut and we love you.”

  “Thanks. I’ll miss you girls when you move on. But that’s okay. I want you to grow and live and love. I want you to accomplish every little thing you want to accomplish. Just do me a favor, and tell me all about it.”

  “Every little thing?” Felicity asked teasingly.

  “Okay, maybe not everything. Just the stuff that won’t cause a heart attack.”

  Nell felt a deep sense of contentment as she sat on the couch between her daughters this Christmas morning. She knew for sure now that the nest would never truly be empty. Her children would never abandon her, just as she would never abandon them. Eric was right when he said that a parent never ceases to be a parent. That awful phrase “post-parental” was just wrong.

  And now that she had welcomed poetry back into her life, she had yet another purpose to give her days meaning. “I’ve decided to sign up for a poetry course at YCC,” Nell announced. “It’s my Christmas present to myself.”

  Felicity nodded. “Way to go, Mom.”

  “I guess we should call Grandma and Grandpa Emerson,” Molly noted suddenly
.

  “Let’s not mention the fact that Eric Manville will be joining us for Christmas dinner,” Nell advised. “I suspect that information might elicit a response that won’t fit well with the spirit of the season.”

  Nell took her cell phone from the pocket of her robe, punched in her parents’ number, and switched to speakerphone mode. Her mother answered after three rings. “Merry Christmas,” Nell, Molly, and Felicity chorused.

  “Oh,” Jacqueline Emerson replied after a moment. “And to you.”

  “Is Dad there?” Nell asked.

  “Tal is out playing golf,” her mother informed them.

  “What are you two doing for Christmas?” Felicity asked.

  Jacqueline told them that they were having dinner with another couple at the best restaurant in town. “The wine list is renowned,” she said. “Nell, you never knew much about wine, did you?”

  “No, Mom,” Nell said evenly. “I didn’t and I still don’t.”

  The conversation went on in a desultory manner for a few moments before Jacqueline Emerson ended the call.

  “You know,” Felicity said, “I don’t think Grandma is a happy person.”

  “Not that she’d ever say anything to us about her feelings,” Molly added.

  “I think you might be right, Fliss,” Nell said. She could remember very few occasions on which her mother had genuinely smiled, let alone laughed. Suddenly she felt a surge of sympathy for Jacqueline Emerson.

  The miniature grandfather clock chiming the half hour interrupted Nell’s thoughts. “We’d better get moving or we’ll be late for the service,” she said, rising from the couch.

  “How many years has it been since we went to church on Christmas?” Molly asked.

  “Too many,” Nell replied. “Too many.”

  Chapter 36

  “That’s him!” Felicity dashed from the kitchen. Nell took a deep breath and followed more slowly. She had only reached the entrance to the living room when Felicity flung open the door to admit Eric Manville.

  “Hi!” Felicity cried. “Hi!”

  “You might want to ask him in.” Molly, who had been sitting on the couch with a book, joined her sister at the door.

  Felicity stepped back hurriedly. “Right, come in!”

  Eric did. Molly extended her hand. “I’m Molly,” she said. “And the person jumping around behind me is Felicity.”

  “This is just so exciting,” Felicity said, extending her hand as well.

  Nell smiled fondly. Eric was wearing his puffer coat and that awful green hat. “I told you they were fans,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

  “Right as rain,” Eric said. “I forgot to ask what I could bring, but I figured I couldn’t go wrong with champagne and chocolate.”

  Molly relieved Eric of his coat and hat and then accepted the gift bag from which two champagne bottles peeked. Felicity accepted the box of candy wrapped in gold paper and tied with a green ribbon.

  Eric looked from the massive tree to the crèche, from the gingerbread house to the row of candles on the mantel of the fireplace, from the bowl of ribbon candy to the garland decorating the handrail of the stairs. “Wow,” he said. “It’s like a winter wonderland in here.”

  Felicity laughed. “Or like a specialty Christmas shop exploded! Mom went a little crazy with the decorations this year. And with the baking. I think a few of my teeth have rotted out.”

  “She mentioned the baking,” Eric told her. “Maybe I shouldn’t have brought chocolates.”

  “No!” Felicity cried, hugging the box to her chest.

  “Is it totally not okay to ask you to autograph my copy of The Land of Joy?” Molly requested.

  “It totally is okay,” Eric assured her.

  The doorbell sounded again. This time it was Jill, bearing a promised bowl of mashed potatoes and turnips and a green-bean-with-almonds casserole. After Nell had eased her friend of her burdens, she introduced her to Eric.

  “I saw you the other evening at the Bookworm,” Eric noted as he shook Jill’s hand. “You were sitting with Nell.”

  “That’s right. I’m a fan of your work.”

  “Thank you. I—”

  “Hey, Eric,” Felicity interrupted. “Do you want to help me make the gravy?”

  “He’s a guest, Fliss,” Molly pointed out. “He’s here to enjoy himself.”

  “I’m happy to help in any way I can,” Eric said. “Lead on.” After taking Jill’s contributions from Nell, Eric followed Felicity to the kitchen.

  “Well, Felicity already seems to consider him part of the family,” Jill whispered. Before Nell could reply, the doorbell rang for a third time.

  “I’ll get it.” Molly hurried to the front door. Nell was sure her daughter was hoping the visitor would be Mick, but when Molly opened the door it was to find Stuart Smith standing on the welcome mat. With his wool beanie and big brown beard he looked a bit like Yukon Cornelius, prospector and friend of the Abominable Snowman.

  “Please tell me my mother is here,” he said. “I went to her place, and when I found it empty I got a little freaked.”

  “Hey, Stuart. Come in, she’s here.”

  Stuart strode toward his mother and embraced her.

  “What on earth are you doing here?” Jill cried. “Never mind, you’re here and that’s all that matters.”

  When Stuart finally let his mother go, he held out the bag he was carrying. “I brought a cheese ball.”

  Nell relieved him of his package and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Hello, Stuart. It’s good to see you.”

  “How did you get through?” Jill asked. “The news reports say that a big stretch of Route One is closed.”

  “With difficulty.” Stuart took his mother’s hand in his. “I’m sorry, Mom. I shouldn’t have made other plans when I know spending Christmas together means so much to you—and to me. Especially this first Christmas without Brian.”

  Jill nodded. “Thank you, Stuart. So, what’s become of the girlfriend? Sherry? Brandy? Whiskey?”

  “Taffy. I gave her the airline tickets and she went off with a friend. I don’t think I’ll be seeing her again. But that’s okay. It was nothing serious. I shouldn’t have been wasting my time or hers.” Stuart turned to Nell. “So, is it okay if I join you for dinner?”

  “Of course,” Nell told him. “The more the merrier.”

  “I’m grateful for your hospitality. And frankly, I could use a home-cooked meal. I’m useless in the kitchen, and the women I date don’t seem to have any interest in feeding me.”

  Jill patted her son’s arm. “You should let me pick your next lady friend.”

  Stuart sighed. “I might take you up on that offer, Mom. I don’t seem to be doing very well on my own.”

  Eric suddenly came into the living room, Felicity closely trailing behind. He was wearing one of the aprons Nell had bought for the girls. “What’s all the excitement?” he asked.

  “Eric,” Nell said, restraining a laugh at the sight of the apron and the smudge of flour on Eric’s cheek. “This is Jill’s son, Stuart.”

  Eric came forward and extended his hand. “Eric Manville. Nice to meet you.”

  “The Eric Manville?” Stuart asked, giving Eric’s hand a shake.

  “If by that you mean am I the one who writes books, yeah, that’s me.”

  “Wow,” Stuart said. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a famous writer in person before.”

  “As you can see we’re pretty unremarkable in the flesh. Except for when we’re wearing aprons decorated with bunnies and foxes. I was working on the gravy.”

  “Stuart brought a cheese ball,” Nell told Eric, whose eyes lit up at the news.

  “Good man. So, where is it?”

  Jill laughed. “I’ll put it out and pop open a bottle of champagne.”

  Everyone followed Jill to the kitchen, where Stuart offered to take on any chore Nell set him to; Molly leaned against a counter and stared down at her phone, no doubt in the hope that Mi
ck was reaching out to her; and Felicity chatted with Eric as he continued to work on the gravy. Nell smiled as she watched them all. She wondered what other miracles could possibly be in store for them this Christmas Day. Please God, she thought. Let it be the miracle Molly is praying for.

  Chapter 37

  Molly’s air of melancholy had deepened as the afternoon progressed. Just before dinner Nell found her standing at the living room window, looking out at not much of anything but the darkening day. Nell went over to her and put an arm around her shoulder. “You okay?” she whispered.

  “Not really,” Molly said with a wan smile. “But please don’t let me spoil this day for you, Mom.”

  “It’s time for dinner. Come with me.”

  Molly linked her arm through Nell’s, and together they went into the dining room where the others were gathered. The table was set with the Waterford crystal and the Lennox dinnerware Nell had so rarely used since her divorce. Linen napkins replaced the paper ones the King family used on a daily basis, and two white tapers stood tall in silver candlesticks.

  “Everything looks delicious!” Felicity said, clasping her hands before her. “My appetite is totally back.”

  The group took their seats, Nell at one end of the table and Jill at the other. Eric and Molly sat across from Stuart and Felicity. Nell had carved the turkey in the kitchen and now helped her guests to legs or breast meat and gravy. In addition to Jill’s mashed potatoes with turnips and green beans with almonds, there was sausage and mushroom stuffing, chunky cranberry sauce, and hot homemade rolls. Within a few minutes plates were piled high and glasses were filled. Just as Nell was about to suggest a toast, the doorbell rang for the fourth time that day.