Knit the Season

by Kate Jacobs

  “It’s nontoxic paint, right?” Darwin kept asking. “Or did you have these when your boys were small? Because there might be lead. Have these been tested?”

  “All new for tonight,” reassured Marty, still limber enough to get down on the floor with the kids. “Here, let me show you.” He sent a wooden top whirring right off the edge of the table, to enthusiastic applause from Ginger and her glamorous new hero, twelve-year-old Allegra.

  “Looks like you’ve been replaced,” said KC, poking Dakota with her elbow. “That’s a sure sign of adulthood. When kids no longer find you as interesting.”

  “Uh, thanks,” said Dakota. “I think.”

  “Is that a wrinkle I see?” teased Catherine, peering close to Dakota’s face. “Methinks you look almost twenty-one.”

  Anita had invited all the members of the club, as well as James, Sarah and Enzo, the Toscanos, and several friends and neighbors, to her Hanukkah party. It seemed the perfect way to visit with everyone before the various families went their separate ways, dashing off for Christmas celebrations and trips to Scotland and eating Chinese food by themselves (à la KC), before reuniting for what Marty had taken to calling “the wedding of the year.” Yes, Anita worried that something else might go wrong, that Nathan might have more shenanigans up his sleeve, but she had a trick for making it from here to there: She was going to turn off all of her phones and stitch together a pair of light, lacy wraps in a silvery thread for her two attendants, Catherine and Dakota, to coordinate with their strapless dresses.

  Anita looked up to see the two having an intense chat in the corner.

  “Mingle, ladies, mingle,” she advised, coming over to join them. “Looking for Roberto?”

  “Kinda.” Dakota hesitated. “It’s been a while, you know. We’re in different places in our lives.”

  “My goodness, you sound like you’re getting a divorce,” said Anita. “I think just saying hello might be the simpler approach. He’s going to be here with his father any minute. Allegra came early with Sarah.”

  “It’s uncomfortable,” said Dakota. “It might be hard for you to understand.”

  “Of course, dear,” said Anita, turning to Catherine. “And what about you?”

  “Where did you say Sarah was?” asked Catherine, craning her neck to look around the apartment.

  “She’s on the phone in the guest bedroom, talking to someone in Italy,” said Anita. “Why don’t you go in and check on her? Here, take her this glass of wine.” She handed Catherine a glass of white and a napkin.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Catherine. “I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”

  “Just see how she is,” advised Anita. “Have a conversation about something other than Allegra.”

  “Hi,” said Dakota, her gut tied up in knots. She put a hand on the back of her neck and rubbed.

  “Are you sore?” asked Roberto, who had been ushered over by Anita the moment he stepped into the party.

  “No,” said Dakota quickly, blushing. “I mean yes. All the kitchen work can tire my muscles.” Seeing Roberto was too weird, almost as though he was crashing her real life. Not the fun summer in Italy—he fit right into that scenario—but here, back in New York, where she had real work to do, he was out of place. It was fun to text or whatever, but she was quite sure she didn’t want him around. She wanted to put him in a corner of her past and keep him there.

  “So,” said Roberto, his hands in his pockets, bobbing up and down on his heels. “This is quite the big party. I’ve never been to Hanukkah before this trip.”

  “It’s cool,” said Dakota, who’d spent many years celebrating Anita’s holidays with her.

  “You look pretty,” said Roberto, changing the subject.

  “You, too,” said Dakota, her face feeling hot. “This sucks,” she blurted.

  Roberto laughed nervously. Then he leaned in, like a conspirator, and whispered. “It’s strange seeing you here,” he said. “I used to show you all around in Rome, and now I’m the lost boy in your city.”

  Dakota decided to take a page from her mother’s book and get straight to the point. “Do you have a girlfriend now?” she asked.

  “No, well, sometimes, but not now,” said Roberto. “I’m moving to Florida for school.”

  “Florida?”

  “I’m going to become a pilot. Finally.” His face erupted into a dazzling smile, and Dakota could finally see the confident guy she’d fallen for in Rome. He hadn’t changed that much. He was still very cute.

  “Good for you, Roberto,” she shouted. Dakota was delighted. She continued to be confused by what she felt for Roberto—it had been a hell of a long time since Rome, she decided, and there was another fellow at school who’d caught her eye—but no doubt Roberto was still a good guy.

  “It’s not so bad having you here,” she admitted finally.

  “I think maybe so, too,” said Roberto, raising his glass in salute.

  The doorbell rang as more guests arrived, and Anita bustled over to let them in, a tray of her latkes in hand.

  “This party is simply fabulous,” she cried out to no one in particular as she made her way to the door. “I haven’t thought about my wedding more than once an hour all day.” Then she dropped her delicious potato pancakes all over the floor.

  “Greetings, Mother,” said Nathan Lowenstein, standing on the other side of the threshold and helping his wife off with her coat. “Happy Hanukkah.”

  He stepped inside and glanced to his right and then, just as quickly, to his left. Always important to know who he was dealing with.

  As Nathan’s mother had neither invited nor uninvited him to the Hanukkah party, he decided it was appropriate to take matters into his own hands, and made arrangements to travel to New York anyway. Naturally, he brought his wife, Rhea, and his children, who always loved to see their grandmother.

  He did, briefly, consider the high probability of encountering his mother’s promiscuous acquaintance, Catherine, but remained committed to his plan. He was going to appeal directly to his mother’s conscience by enlisting the help of his aunt, Sarah, to talk his mother out of her doomed marriage. She’d thank him later. Of that fact he was certain.

  Anita’s face went white. “It’s Nathan,” she called out to Marty, though he could plainly see that fact for himself. She fluttered about as KC and Darwin brought paper towels to help scoop up the smashed potato pancakes, making faces at each other over the shared loss of such deliciousness.

  “Welcome,” said Marty, his broad smile never wavering as he strode briskly to the door. “What riches of family we have tonight.” He hugged Rhea and the children in turn, then shook hands with Nathan.

  “Marty,” said Nathan crisply.

  “Nathan, hello,” said Marty. “My darling Anita’s unpredictable son. Why don’t you help me with the drinks?”

  “Where’s Sarah?” Nathan said curtly, nodding vaguely at the pretty young girl waving at him.

  “Remember your young cousin Allegra? You met her at our spring wedding, I believe?” asked Marty. “Well, she’s never been to a Hanukkah party before. I do hope tonight will be pleasant for all.” Not for a millisecond did the smile leave his face.

  “Oh, dear,” breathed Anita, jumping as the doorbell rang again. “Who could that be now?”

  But it was only Peri, bringing along her boyfriend, Roger, ready to join the festivities.

  “Just have to calm down,” said Anita, kissing Peri. “I’ve had more than enough surprises in my lifetime.”

  Quietly the door to the guest bedroom opened, and Sarah glided into the party, her eyes crinkling with delight when she recognized the face of her favorite nephew from long ago.

  “Anita didn’t tell me,” she said to Nathan. “Your arrival must be a surprise for me. I love seeing you so.”

  Nathan thought of telling her he hadn’t been invited, but he didn’t want to upset Sarah. He didn’t, actually, want to upset his mother. All he had to do was get things back to how t
hey were supposed to be and all would be well.

  “I have to talk to you,” he whispered now. “It’s important.”

  “In a minute, darling,” assured Sarah, pinching his cheek as though he were still a little boy. “I must find Marco.” She stepped over to whisper in her former son-in-law’s ear and watched him as he made his way to the guest room, then returned to Nathan’s side.

  “Catherine has something to ask him,” announced Sarah. “And I have given my blessing.”

  “She’s a slut,” hissed Nathan, though only his aunt could hear.

  Sarah angled her body to appraise Nathan fully. “How would you know?” she asked, her eyebrows arched. Although it had been ages since she’d reprimanded him for some ridiculous infraction against his younger brothers, he suddenly felt defensive and outwitted. Like a small boy. Sarah had always been devoted to him, but she had never fallen for the tricks he pulled on his mother. She was never intimidated by him. “I know,” she used to murmur as she tucked him in at night more than forty years ago, “that you are scared sometimes. And I will protect you.”

  “Your mother will always love you, Nathan,” she said now. Firmly. “But I don’t think your wife would understand you speaking of Catherine on such familiar terms. And so we’ll let that all be, won’t we?”

  “Sarah!” Nathan was shocked but wary. “I thought you would help me. You, of all people, should understand.”

  “All too well. Nothing can be guaranteed more than history repeating itself,” said Sarah, her gaze firm. She didn’t seem so sweet right now. “Your mother can’t see that you are just like she was when she threw me out. Self-righteous and silly. But I loved her anyway. I never stopped wanting my big sister. And your mother adores you. Even when you . . . make a fuss. When no fuss is needed.”

  “Why not?” spat out Nathan.

  “Because it makes them happy. Anita, Marty, Catherine, Marco,” explained Sarah. “All the other issues are of no consequence. And something you should think more deeply about: The only worthy goal is love.”

  Catherine suddenly felt shy when Marco entered the room. She’d sat on the bed, waiting, then stood to straighten her violet cocktail dress, then checked her teeth for lipstick stains in Sarah’s mirror, then sat again. Then stood. Then pretended to watch idly out the window at the cabs navigating through the piles of snow. She would turn around slowly, casually, when Marco was there, she’d decided. As though she hadn’t been watching the red minutes tick away on Sarah’s clock radio.

  “Catherine?”

  “Oh, Marco,” she said, dashing across the room at lightning speed and wrapping her arms tightly around him. “I had a big talk with Sarah, and she’s so lovely.” Catherine began to cry. She made a feeble attempt to speak but only cried harder into Marco’s shoulder. His burgundy silk shirt was covered in tears, a big splotch on the right side.

  “Bella, what is it?” Marco, genuinely confused, reached out to lift her chin. “You are very American. You talk, talk, talk all the time about how you feel. ‘I’m the independent woman.’ No shutting up. And then when something is clearly upsetting, you keep your mouth shut and all you do is the tears. Help me.”

  She needed to take a risk. That’s what Catherine had decided over the past few days. What was she waiting for anyway? Why was it up to him? If all of her energy getting to know herself, understanding what she truly wanted out of her life, was to mean anything, then she had to get over some old-fashioned notion of a man getting down on one knee. She didn’t need a gallant knight. She didn’t need rescuing. What she needed was a family. And she’d found one. With a man and children she loved.

  “If your daughter was still alive it wouldn’t be like this,” she’d said to Sarah just moments earlier. Catherine hadn’t done her usual approach and polled Anita and the club about her decision. She simply waited until she could speak to Sarah alone. “I feel as though your loss, their loss, made the room for me to learn what love is.”

  “It did,” agreed Sarah, sighing. “We know sadness together. But maybe Roberto and Allegra will know the joy of having two very different, but loving, mothers.”

  “How can you be so gracious?”

  “Because I’m a pragmatist,” said Sarah. “I play life as it comes. Besides, you’re very clever.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You knew enough to come to me first!” said Sarah. “But enough stalling. Perhaps we’ve arrived at the moment when you should ask the man directly.”

  Now Marco was staring at her, worried. It was hardly the confident pose she had planned to strike.

  “Marco,” she breathed, a bit ragged from her weepy spell. “I’m not so big on traditions anymore. But I’d like to do something significant. I want to make a speech. I want to say how I feel.”

  “At the party? About Anita and Marty?”

  “No, about us,” said Catherine. She stepped back, solid on her own feet.

  “Marco, I love you. And Roberto. And Allegra. I want to share my life with you.”

  “You are a big part of our life,” said Marco. “And it’s fantastico.”

  “Marco,” shrieked Catherine, suddenly panicked. Was he purposely not getting it? Was it a language thing? What the hell, it was time to get straight to the point.

  Catherine dropped to one knee. “What I’m saying is that I want to marry you. Marry you!”

  “Well, bella,” said Marco, pulling her to standing and stroking her sleek blond bob. “Why didn’t you just say that in the first place?”

  There were no secrets where Anita and Sarah were concerned. Not anymore. No sooner had Marco left to talk to Catherine than the two sisters were hovering outside the bedroom door, pretending not to listen. They discreetly looked the other way and pretended to pass around napkins to nearby guests when Marco stepped out of the room to collect Roberto and Allegra, and then rushed to the door, napkins in hand, when he closed the door with his children and Catherine inside.

  Marty tapped his fiancée and her sister on their shoulders.

  “Ladies,” he said. “Shouldn’t we offer a little privacy here?”

  “It’s private,” said Anita. “It’s not like we’re in the room with them. Now shush, I can’t hear.”

  “Go get a glass,” said Sarah. “That’s how we did it in the old days.”

  Marty shook his head.

  “Stop that,” said Anita. “Now, do you think they would want to do New Year’s? We’re all together.”

  Marty sighed, not really offended that his bride would want to share their wedding day. He knew her all too well.

  “I can barely breathe,” said Dakota. “This is the most tense eavesdropping the club has ever done.”

  Ginger was hopping around from foot to foot, charged up by the energy in the room but uncertain what was happening. She held hands with Dakota and chatted animatedly to Lucie and Darwin and the frowning man by the desserts.

  “Are you excited?” she asked Nathan, bouncing up and down. “Everybody’s excited! Wanna jump with me?”

  “No,” said Nathan, biting off a large hunk of doughnut and chewing rapidly. “And I am most certainly not. Excited.”

  Roberto opened the door as his father and Catherine exited the guest room. Catherine’s face was puffy and wet.

  Sarah twisted the napkin in her hand nervously.

  “Well? Well?” said Anita, leaning forward so much she was almost on tiptoe.

  “We’re going to be married,” said Allegra, dashing out around her father and Catherine and into the living room. “And I will be the flower girl.” She threw up her arms in triumph, as though she’d just won a great prize.

  A cheer went up among the party guests, even from the folks who didn’t know Catherine well.

  “Everyone loves a wedding,” said KC. “Even me. If it’s someone else’s.”

  “Double wedding?” asked Anita. “Is this going to be a double wedding?”

  “Why not,” agreed Marco. “She spends months telling me
‘Don’t get any ideas, buddy,’ and then she knocks me off my socks. So I better get it done before she changes her mind.” Catherine hugged her friends, and Sarah, and Ginger, before being introduced to Anita’s daughter-in-law, Rhea.

  “Oh, my,” she exclaimed, face-to-face with a very pleasant-seeming woman in her fifties who congratulated her warmly and introduced her children. “How . . . nice to meet you. I am truly, truly glad to meet you. And Nathan. Here you are.”

  “Catherine,” Nathan said evenly. “It would seem some sort of felicitations are in order.”

  “Indeed,” she said smoothly, giving no indication she had once—foolishly—imagined herself in love with Nathan. Imagined herself ousting Rhea and that such behavior would somehow be okay. Oh, Catherine, she thought to herself. You really used to be a mess, now, didn’t you?

  Nathan leaned in to shake her hand, his mouth close to her ear as he pecked her cheek. She was surprised by the inviting scent of his cologne, had expected it would somehow smell different because of his boorish behavior.

  “Get my mother to call it off,” he growled, his voice low. “I’m sure Marco would be very interested to know, shall we say, more about your behavior last summer.”

  Catherine’s eyes flashed.

  “Isn’t this something, Nathan!” squealed Anita, giving Catherine a big squeeze as she came alongside Rhea. She was delighted for Catherine but also relieved for herself, hopeful that her son would have more respect for another bride.

  “Oh, it’s something, all right,” grumbled Nathan. He narrowed his eyes at Catherine. She’d inserted herself into his life at a weak moment, he thought, and now she was caught up in his mother’s wedding drama. But that didn’t mean his fight was over. On the contrary. It was just getting started.

  “Let me fix you a drink,” said Nathan, practically shoving Catherine toward the cocktails and leaving his mother and wife blathering on about the wonderful turn of events.

  “I’m not thirsty,” said Catherine, though in reality her throat was dry.

  “I don’t hate you, Catherine,” said Nathan, pouring a full glass of Cara Mia pinot and sipping it himself.