by Nancy Thayer
“Silly,” Shirley said, kissing him lightly on the lips. It was, after all, the thought that counted. She didn’t care if the diamond was the size of a grape seed; it was still an engagement ring.
She opened the box.
And gasped.
Inside, tucked into a slot in the black velvet, lay two tiny diamond ear studs.
She couldn’t help it. Tears leapt into her eyes. Ear studs, and she’d thought it was an engagement ring! For a moment, a terrible bitterness filled her mouth like an acid. She felt like such a fool for assuming it was a ring!
“Don’t cry, darling,” Justin said. “You’re worth it.”
7
COOL, ELEGANT CAROLYN’S CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS were all silver and white.
“It’s rather like entering a spaceship,” Hugh remarked, as he and Polly went into the house.
“Polly, Hugh, lovely to see you! Merry Christmas!” Carolyn, elegant in a red cashmere dress, air kissed them both before pulling them into the living room, where a bartender offered them flutes of Champagne.
The large, airy rooms were already crowded. Hank’s aristocratic and rather daffy mother, Daisy, was there, carrying her pet Shih Tzu, Clock, everywhere in her arms and talking to the dog more than to the human beings. One of Hank’s sisters, Evelyn, was there, with her husband and their three young children. Ingrid, Carolyn’s new au pair, drifted through the room with baby Elizabeth in her arms.
Faye was ensconced on the sofa, her legs stretched out and one ankle elevated on a cushion. Her neck brace made it difficult for her to turn her head easily, so anyone talking with her had to sit on the coffee table facing her.
Polly made a beeline for Faye. “Merry Christmas, Faye! How do you feel?”
Faye managed a smile. “Awful, to tell the truth. If I don’t use painkillers, I’m in agony, and if I do use them, I’m in the Twilight Zone.”
Now that she was close to her, Polly could see how pale Faye was. Wanting to cheer her up, she said, “Well, you look gorgeous!”
A chiming noise vibrated the air.
Carolyn tapped a glass with a knife until she had everyone’s attention. “Dinner’s served!”
Aubrey leaned over the back of the sofa, placing an affectionate hand on Faye’s shoulder. “I’ll bring you a plate.”
“Thanks, Aubrey.” Faye made a little shooing gesture. “Go on, Polly, fix your own plate. I’ll be fine.”
Polly, Hugh, and Aubrey joined the line at the table. It was set buffet style, with the food served by a smiling young caterer. Suddenly, Carolyn materialized out of thin air.
“Here, Hugh.” Carolyn handed him a plate heaped with food. “Take this to Faye, will you?” Deftly she turned to Aubrey. “Father, why don’t you sit at the little table by the tree with Elizabeth? And Polly, could you hold Elizabeth for me? She knows you and Father, she won’t fuss with you two.” Before Polly could object, Carolyn lifted her baby out of Ingrid’s arms and plunked her into Polly’s.
So, smoothly Carolyn paired off her father with Polly. Of course, Polly loved holding the little girl. At eight months, Elizabeth was only seven months younger than Polly’s grandson, still cuddly and full of bubbles and baby babble. Aubrey clearly adored his granddaughter, holding her while Polly ate. Then Polly returned the favor, and she couldn’t help it; she enjoyed talking with Aubrey, no doubt about that. He was a handsome, charming man. She told him about setting her house on fire. He laughed heartily.
From time to time, Polly glanced over at Faye, reclining on the sofa, with Hugh close by. The two were talking and laughing quite happily, Polly thought. It’s just a party, she reassured herself. We’re supposed to talk to everyone at parties.
After dinner, everyone settled in the living room around the Christmas tree and the fire. Aubrey stationed himself next to Faye, sitting on the edge of the sofa, occasionally touching her lightly with his hand or leaning down to whisper something that made her smile.
Hugh returned to Polly’s side, his jovial face flushed and bright. “What a feast! And such fascinating people.”
So everything was all right, Polly thought, with relief.
Then Carolyn and Hank brought out the Perrier Jouët Champagne. Since Elizabeth’s premature birth in April, Carolyn had lost her baby weight and regained her strong, healthy blond beauty. Her father had handed over control of the Sperry Paper Company to her, they’d moved into this new house, and Carolyn was thriving. She radiated confidence and well-being. Polly felt a moment of almost maternal pride as she watched the lovely young woman.
Carolyn’s mother had died when she was young, and because of Carolyn’s dedication to the company, handed down matrilineally through the generations, she hadn’t had a chance to keep up old friendships or develop new ones. When Polly met her last year at The Haven, Carolyn was a very isolated woman. Polly, who was cold-shouldered by her own daughter-in-law, had loved the opportunity to talk about all the things women over the ages discussed: the eccentric physical problems of pregnancy, the doubts about being a good mother. Gradually, they’d become such close friends that when Carolyn went into premature labor while Hank was out of town, she had called Polly for help.
Polly alone had been privy to Carolyn’s fears and struggles. She’d helped her uncover Aubrey’s new wife’s devious, money-grubbing scheme. Polly had been there when Elizabeth was born. She’d spent hours helping Carolyn adjust to the demands of motherhood. She’d become a kind of second mother to the young woman.
But that didn’t mean Polly should pair off with Carolyn’s father, even though that seemed to be what Carolyn wanted.
Now Carolyn raised her glass in a toast. “Merry Christmas, everyone!”
They all cheered and drank.
“I want to thank my mother-in-law and sister-in-law and brother-in-law for coming to spend this Christmas with us.” Carolyn looked very beautiful as one of her great-grandmother’s magnificent ruby-and-diamond necklaces sparkled around her throat. “This has been a year of many changes.”
“You had a baby!” chirped her five-year-old niece, and everyone laughed.
“Indeed, I did.” Carolyn looked at her daughter, nestled now in her husband’s arms. Leaning forward, she kissed Elizabeth’s nose. “And my father and I moved from the family home, which is being converted into a museum for the town. Hank and I have turned this new house into a comfortable home, we’ve hired Ingrid as our housekeeper/nanny, and the Sperry Paper Company has had the best year in a decade.”
More cheers.
When the noise died down, Carolyn spoke again. “And I couldn’t have done it all without you, Polly.” She flushed as she spoke. Carolyn was always uneasy with emotion. “You were like the mother I never had. You’ve taught me so much, and you’ve helped me so much. I wish I could adopt you as my mother, but since I can’t, Hank and I would like to ask you to be Elizabeth’s godmother.”
It should have been a poignant moment. Instead, Polly felt like an onion dropped into an emotional Cuisinart, sliced and diced by the various needs of the others in the room. Carolyn’s request made Polly’s heart swell with love and sympathy—she knew how hard it was for Carolyn to show affection. She knew how much Carolyn needed a mother. And baby Elizabeth was adorable.
But if Polly agreed to be Elizabeth’s godmother, that would tie her in even closer to Carolyn’s family. Would it drive a wedge between Polly and Faye?
Of all the Hot Flash Club, Faye was the one Polly liked the best. She was the one with whom Polly had the most in common. They were both widowed by men they had loved. They each had one child: Faye, a daughter; Polly, a son. They wanted to be grandmothers more than Marilyn, who was obsessed with her ancient fossils, or Shirley, who had never had children and was focused on running The Haven, or professional, no-nonsense Alice.
A volcanic blast of heat exploded through Polly. She couldn’t think—she wanted to pour her Champagne right down the front of her dress, anything to cool off!
“Polly?”
Polly blinked.
Carolyn and all the others in the room were smiling at her, waiting for her reply. What could she say?
“I—I—Why, Carolyn, it’s an honor to be asked to be Elizabeth’s godmother.”
Carolyn was never shy about closing a deal. “So you accept?”
What else could she say? “I accept!”
NEW YEAR’S DAY
8
NEW YEAR’S DAY DAWNED WHITE AND FRIGID AND only got worse, as a howling wind blew tiny stinging bits of snow, like grains of sand, against buildings, trees, and cars, and into the eyes of anyone foolish enough to brave the elements.
The Haven was officially closed, most of its windows dark. But the lights were on in the locker room, and in the beautifully tiled Jacuzzi room, the hot tub bubbled and steamed. Five women in bathing suits were sinking into the healing heat of hot water and good gossip. Although they often phoned one another, the Hot Flash Club members tried to keep their juiciest news and latest crises for an occasion when they were all together, so they could all weigh in with opinions, argue, and brain-storm. But the holidays had thrown them off schedule. They had a lot to catch up on.
Marilyn held her mother’s hand until Ruth was securely seated, her head resting against the back of the tub. Ruth wore one of Marilyn’s bathing suits, and Marilyn couldn’t help but think she was seeing the Ghost of Christmas Future in her mother’s body. Like Marilyn, Ruth was slender, and for a woman in her eighties she was in good shape, but the top of the swimsuit hung loosely over her shriveled breasts while the tummy section bulged out in a little round pudding. Ruth’s skin was freckled and wrinkled, creased like tissue paper, and beneath the fragile covering, her green veins wound around her bones like vines over a trellis.
Ruth’s toenails were yellow, thick, and hard as ice cubes. Marilyn had cut them for her this morning, and painted them with the polish she had in the house only because her Hot Flash friends insisted she use it from time to time.
“I’ve always liked my toes,” Ruth had confided. “I think of them as ten friendly little companions. Hello down there!” she called. Wiggling her toes, she responded in a squeaky voice, “Hello up there!”
Okay, she’s senile, Marilyn thought.
Ruth continued, “You and Sharon liked your toes, too, when you were young, remember? You used to draw faces on your toes and make little caps for them out of bits of yarn or foil.”
Marilyn slapped herself in the forehead. “You’re right! We did!”
Memories flooded back: Long afternoons in the Ohio summer heat. She and Sharon had spent hours painstakingly drawing faces on and dressing each other’s toes, tying bits of ribbon around them as neckties or tutus. Then they’d lie side by side on the grass in the shade of a tree, holding musical revues, making their toes dance while they sang songs they’d heard their grandmother sing. “Five foot two, eyes of blue,” or “Hey, good lookin’, whatcha got cookin’.” Did anyone sing those songs anymore?
A door opened up in her mind. Marilyn felt she could step through it and reenter those summer days, which shimmered green-golden and fresh and sounded like little girls giggling. The innocence, the happiness, the thereness of it all swept through her. She remembered how she’d been especially fond of one of her birthmarks, the brown one on her left thigh. It had looked like a piece of a miniature jigsaw puzzle.
“Marilyn?” Her mother’s voice interrupted her thoughts.
“All done!” Marilyn stuck the brush back inside the bottle and tightened it.
Later, as they drove to The Haven, Marilyn thought how her mother was a living repository of memories. When Ruth was gone, who would remember, who would care, about Marilyn’s girlish toes?
Now, as Ruth bobbed in the Jacuzzi, she kept letting her feet float up so she could admire her painted nails. Marilyn noticed how Ruth smiled every time she saw the perky spots of pink peek up through the water. Hello up there! she thought.
“Did you have a nice Christmas, Ruth?” Alice asked.
Ruth’s face lit up. “It was lovely. We spent Christmas Eve with Teddy and Lila and my adorable little great-granddaughter, Irene.”
“Was Eugenie there?” Shirley asked.
“She was, indeed,” Ruth answered. “We could hardly pry little Irene out of her clutch.”
“And guess what!” Marilyn looked at her friends with a grin. “Eugenie had a bad face-lift. Very Phantom of the Opera.” Seeing Polly’s puzzled face, she hastened to explain, “I know it seems callous of me to be silly about another woman’s bad face-lift, but Eugenie is so superficial and critical and such a terrible snob—”
Shirley was glad Marilyn was so chatty today. She loved her friends and, as always, loved being around them, but sooner or later she was going to have to tell them about her gift to Justin. She let herself sink deeper and deeper into the water, so that her mouth was submerged and only the top of her head from her nose up showed.
“You’ve got to tell Faye about this,” Alice said. “After all, she ‘worked’ for Eugenie.”
“I wish Faye were here now,” Polly said.
“I do too.” Shirley slid up out of the water so she could talk. “I told her we’d be glad to pick her up, or even go to her house so she wouldn’t have to deal with traveling in a car. But she said she really needed to rest.”
Marilyn frowned. “Still, it’s not like Faye not to come out. I hope she’s okay.”
“I think she’s depressed,” Polly told them. “I saw her Christmas night for dinner at Carolyn’s house. When we had a chance to talk alone for a while, she told me that her daughter’s pregnant again.”
“That’s great!” Shirley looked puzzled. “That should thrill Faye.”
“It does, but Faye also learned that Lars’s parents are moving to San Francisco so they can be near their son and his family. Lars’s mother plans to help Laura when she has the new baby, so they won’t have to hire a nanny. Faye feels horribly left out. She almost started crying when she told me.”
“Oh, dear, poor Faye!” Marilyn’s face crinkled with worry.
Shirley tried to be optimistic. “Good thing she’s got Aubrey to keep her occupied.”
Polly considered holding her breath and sinking to the bottom of the tub. She wanted to share her discomfort about the whole Carolyn/Aubrey business with the Hot Flash group, but now, in the soothing intimacy of the hot tub, she decided to ignore her worries. “Yes, Aubrey seems quite smitten with Faye.”
“How was your Christmas?” Shirley asked.
“Well, let’s see.” Polly was glad to change the subject. Playfully, she cocked her head, pretending to search her memory. “Well, I did set my house on fire just when my daughter-in-law arrived.”
“You set your house on fire! Oh, Polly!” Marilyn’s mother looked horrified.
Polly waved her hands in the air. “It’s all right. No one was hurt.” She didn’t want poor Ruth to have a heart attack. “Some greenery on the mantel caught fire. It was quite spectacular for a few moments, but only one wall was ruined. Well, and the other walls and ceiling were smoke-damaged. Fortunately, my insurance covers it, so I’ll have the living room repainted. The problem is, it gives Amy one more reason to stay away from me.”
“What’s the matter with that girl?” Alice shook her head impatiently. “She sounds loony.”
“I know,” Polly agreed. “I’ll never understand why David married her.”
Ruth piped up, “I never understood why Marilyn married Theodore. He was always such a pompous little rooster.”
“We got Teddy out of the marriage, Mother,” Marilyn reminded her.
Polly leaned forward. “Marilyn, what did Faraday give you for Christmas?”
Marilyn very busily adjusted the strap on her Speedo.
“Oh, boy,” Alice chuckled. “This is going to be good.”
“Oh, Alice!” Marilyn slapped the water in exasperation.
“Come on, out with it,” Alice coaxed.
“Oh, no!” Marilyn wa
s turning red all over. “I’ve got to get out for a minute.” Pushing herself up, she left the steamy room.
“Those hot flashes make her miserable,” Ruth told the others. “She’s forever pulling off her clothes. I told her she should call herself Dixie Rose Lee.”
The others looked confused.
“Gypsy!” Shirley cried. “You mean Gypsy Rose Lee.”
“That’s what I said.”
Marilyn returned, slightly less flushed. “I’ll just sit out here for a while.” She folded herself Indian–style on the tiles.
“So,” Alice prompted. “You were saying . . .”
Marilyn made a face. “Faraday asked me to marry him.”
“Oh, my God!” In her excitement, Shirley popped up like a piece of toast. “That’s so wonderful! Oh, Marilyn!”
Alice yanked Shirley back down into the water. “Calm down, Shirley. We don’t know whether Marilyn accepted.”
“Well, of course she did!” Shirley responded, indignant. Then she saw Marilyn’s face. “Didn’t you?”
“Well,” Marilyn hedged. “I told him I needed some time to think about it.”
“But why?” Shirley asked. “Faraday’s so cute! And he’s fun! And he likes all that scientific stuff you like.”
“True. But—” Marilyn glanced sideways at her mother. “You know, he’s got a little problem in the, um, romance department.”
“Do you mean he doesn’t satisfy you sexually?” Ruth asked, turning to look up at her daughter.
“Well, Mom!” Marilyn blushed again.
“I think you’re right to take your time,” Alice weighed in. “What’s your hurry? It’s not like we’re young women who’ve got to worry about ticking biological clocks. You can’t have any more children. You’re not getting married to get away from home or satisfy your parents. You should only do it if you really want to.”
“But if you don’t accept,” Polly added, worriedly, “he might be insulted or hurt. He might start seeing someone else!”
