Season of Angels (9781101612170)

by Kinkade, Thomas; Spencer, Katherine

  * * *

  Molly wasn’t sure when the snow started falling. Maybe some tiny flakes were coming down when she and her crew started setting up a holiday brunch in the private section of Lilac Hall for the board members and big donors of the historical society. Most of the guests were seniors, like Lillian Warwick. They took the bad weather as a personal affront—or some sort of lapse in responsibility of the forecasters.

  “I don’t know where this snow is coming from,” Lillian snapped as she entered the party. “There was no call for snow on any of the channels. Ezra and I have been watching closely. My granddaughter Sara is coming from Boston for the holidays. She’s a reporter for the Boston Globe. She’s doing very well there and they’ve given her a column.”

  This was a detail about Lillian’s family that everyone in the room already knew. It was also one that Lillian could not resist repeating.

  Edna Fisk, the director and curator at the society, helped Lillian off with her fur coat, which was now a little frosty. “I think it will just be a dusting. It may not even stick.”

  Molly hoped so. She had heard there was a chance of a brief flurry or two and had not given it much thought at all. It was nice to have a white Christmas, but she certainly didn’t want to be driving around in the snow all day and into the evening in her van.

  As the day wore on, and she checked on three other parties going on simultaneously in the village, the snow came down heavier and heavier. The flakes were falling so fast, the windshield wipers were having trouble keeping up. Molly hated driving in those brief moments when she couldn’t see a thing, but on she plowed, not even considering a change in her schedule.

  The van rolled along slowly, the tires making a muffled sound. The snow seemed to seal the van in a pillow of silence. Her assistant manager, Sonya, sat beside her in the passenger seat. Molly could tell she felt nervous being on the road. Molly was driving slowly, but the heavily loaded vehicle did swerve a bit. She hadn’t seen a snowplow yet, probably because the town wasn’t prepared and hadn’t lined up extra drivers.

  “What’s with all this snow?” Molly grumbled. “Why can’t they figure this stuff out? They keep saying we’re getting snow for weeks—and no snow. Now they don’t say a thing—and boom! We get dumped on.”

  Sonya nodded. “Exactly. Nobody said it was going to snow like this.”

  “All those satellites and computers and radar, and nobody can see a snowflake is coming?” Molly continued to rail. She was losing her temper, but she couldn’t help it. She was overworked, overtired, and she had miles to go—and five more parties—before she could sleep. She did not need ten tons of snow right now.

  “I think we’d better put the weather on again, Molly. Maybe we have to cancel the Elks Lodge. That’s way out of town. It’s going to be bad driving . . .”

  Molly turned on the radio and tried to find the all-news station.

  “I can’t cancel a party, Sonya. That will ruin our reputation. I don’t care if we’re the only ones there. It may just be you and me and the food trays, balloons, and the DJ, but—” She paused, hitting the brakes during another temporary whiteout on the windshield. “Come to think of it, that DJ might not show, either.”

  Sonya didn’t answer. She glanced at Molly, then stared straight ahead. The weather report was coming on, and Molly raised the volume.

  “Well, folks, what’s all the white stuff out there, you say? It’s the surprise storm of the season. A slow-moving system of moist air has hit a cold front to the north, just sitting there on the Canadian border. That warm, moist air keeps pumping up from the south. In other words, it’s a meteorological gridlock up there. And it looks like the snow will come down through tonight and tomorrow, tapering off sometime Christmas morning, and—”

  “Christmas morning?” Molly echoed. “Did he really say—”

  “Quiet, quiet!” Sonya practically put her hand over Molly’s mouth so they could hear the rest of the forecast.

  “. . . We’ll be hit with at least two to three feet and even higher drifts in some areas before it’s all over. Back to you, Al . . .”

  “Three feet of snow?” Molly’s voice rose in a panicked yelp. “We can’t get three feet of snow. We have five more parties. . . .”

  Molly’s cell phone rang. She saw the number on her dashboard. It was a client, and she answered the call with her hands-free device.

  “Hello, Mrs. Gaines. It’s Molly.”

  Mrs. Gaines had obviously heard the weather report, too, and was postponing the party at the Elks Lodge. “I think we’ll try to arrange a new date. Nobody wants to go out on a night like this. It could be dangerous. Can we arrange a new date, maybe one night next week?”

  “No problem,” Molly replied in her most professional tone, which was no small feat, considering that the driving now demanded her complete and full attention.

  She had barely hung up when another call came in. This time it was a client with a party just two hours away, also postponing. Molly hung up with him and turned to Sonya. “I think I’d better drop you off at your house and get home myself. While the van can still make it.” The catering van was not exactly an off-road vehicle; it didn’t even have four-wheel drive.

  Sonya happily agreed. There was some party food in the van that couldn’t be frozen or stored, and Molly gave most of it to her employee. She and her staff had worked so many long hours this week, she now wondered if Sonya had shopped or prepared at all for her own family’s holiday.

  Too late for that now, but at least they would have a nice dinner catered by Willoughby Fine Foods, Molly thought as she slowly made her way home in the catering van. If this snow really kept up, her family would be dining on the same.

  * * *

  Just as the forecasters predicted—too late to help anyone—the snow fell steadily through Sunday. Reverend Ben even cancelled the Sunday service, which was one of the only times that had happened in the entire history of the church. Sam was a deacon and had to make many of the phone calls to the congregation.

  “There was another time when a nor’easter hit,” he told Jessica later that afternoon. “The minister was stuck in the church for a week, and all he had to eat was a bushel of clams.”

  “At least he had something. But I would have gotten sick of clams by then.”

  “Me, too,” Sam agreed. “So what do you think about our party? I think we have to call it off.”

  He was standing by the glass doors in the family room that led outside to their property. The snow was piled so high against the doors, he would have been waist-deep if he had been outside.

  Jessica sighed. She had baked more cookies with Lily during the day, having little else to do, and was now decorating them with swirls of colored icing and sprinkles.

  “I guess we have to. Even if it stops before they say, the roads will be a mess. I would hate it if anyone got stuck or had an accident on their way. Maybe it will be better tomorrow? We can have everyone over for Christmas Day.”

  “Maybe. I don’t think they have any other plans. I’ll call everyone and find out.”

  Jessica glanced at him. “How about your parents?”

  “I’ll call them, too, and leave a message. Maybe my mom will come without Joe. It’s Christmas for her, too.”

  Jessica knew it was hard on Marie to miss out on the holidays because her husband was so stubborn. But she was so loyal to him, Jessica doubted she would come alone.

  * * *

  “The bridge is still out, and we’re still officially stuck on the island until the snowfall ends,” Liza reported.

  It was Sunday, the morning of Christmas Eve, and Jonathan was sitting in the kitchen with Claire and Adele, having breakfast. They were listening to more weather reports on the radio when Liza came in from outside. She was barely recognizable under her cold-weather gear: down jacket, heavy boot
s with thick laces, big mittens, and a hat and scarf that covered everything but her eyes.

  He had been conflicted about staying or going all weekend. Now Mother Nature had decided for him. He honestly didn’t mind. If he had to choose the ten best places to be stuck during a snowstorm, the inn would have to be at the top of the list. It was elegant and comfortable and beautifully decorated for the holidays. There was plenty of good food and pleasant company. What more could you ask for? He was surely more comfortable here than he would have been at even the most luxurious resort in Utah.

  The roads might be passable tomorrow, but he would stay until the day after, he decided. There was nothing and no one waiting for him back in the city. He thought about Tess, picturing her with her family, in their cozy house surrounded by the tall trees. He wondered if she was thinking of him at all.

  Probably not. She hadn’t answered any of his phone calls or texts. That was a clear enough message for him. She wouldn’t even give him a chance to explain. No hope there of getting back together again.

  Maybe she was right. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked out, and breaking it off now was the right thing. The easiest thing. But it really didn’t feel that way to him right now.

  * * *

  “Marie, why do you keep looking out that window? What do you expect to see, Santa Claus flying down from the sky?”

  “I was just looking at the snow, but you never know.”

  Marie put the curtain back in place and turned to her husband. They were sitting by their Christmas tree, which was surrounded by piles of wrapped presents. Most of them were for their grandchildren. Marie was not a shopper the rest of the year, but for Christmas she tended to go overboard.

  Joe sat in his armchair, reading a book about Winston Churchill. Marie couldn’t help but recall one of the most famous quotes from the great British leader: “We will never surrender.” Which seemed to have become her husband’s motto lately.

  Marie had worried all week about whether or not to go to Sam’s house tonight without her husband. It was a difficult choice to make for so many reasons. The snow had lifted that burdensome decision from her shoulders. The snow or God had, she thought. She wondered if they had been isolated here tonight for a reason, an important reason.

  She walked to the tree and picked up some packages that had slipped out of place. She carefully smoothed out the paper and puffed up the bows.

  “What’s the matter, Marie? Are you still brooding about Sam’s party? Look at it outside. We couldn’t go anyway. I bet he’s not even having it.”

  “He isn’t. They moved it to tomorrow, if the weather is all right.”

  Joe shifted in his seat. “When did you hear that? You didn’t tell me.”

  “Sam left a message this afternoon. I guess I didn’t think it mattered to you one way or the other.” Marie sat down on the sofa across from him.

  “It’s just the idea. You should have told me.”

  “Really? Well, it’s just the idea that if they were having the party and there wasn’t a blizzard out there, we would still be sitting here. That’s the idea that bothers me, Joe.”

  Her husband put his book down and stared at her. She rarely raised her voice to him.

  “Go on, what’s on your mind? You’ve been sitting on this all week, I can tell.”

  “All week? More than that, Joe. You’ve always been so sensitive about the subject, I could never tell you how I really feel. Because you refused to discuss it. But now I have to tell you. You’re carrying this on too long. What have you gained by holding on to this anger? Nothing. What have you lost? A lot, Joe. And you may lose even more if you don’t watch out.”

  Her husband didn’t answer; he just scowled at her. She wondered if he was even listening or just brushing aside her words, still too stubborn to see the truth.

  “Look at your life, Joe. This is a good night for it. Like that story by Charles Dickens, wasn’t it?”

  “Oh, so now I’m Scrooge?” He almost laughed at her, but she could see he was getting angry.

  “You tell me,” she challenged him. “I know how unfair it was when Kevin got the store. I know how hurt you were. But that’s in the past, and what we have here now is good. Do you think our lives would have been any better up in Vermont? Staying here, in Cape Light, has let us be part of the lives of our children and grandchildren all these years. That’s been the best part of our lives. I know you always wanted your own business, but you did much better than you ever expected down here. Maybe even better than if you had taken over that store. Maybe it wasn’t even Kevin’s fault when the store failed. It could have happened anyway, no matter who was running the place, once the big-box stores came in on the turnpike up there. You told me that yourself.” Marie took a breath and tried to finish what she wanted to say. “Look at your life, Joe. You are blessed and everything—every single thing—turned out for the best, as far as I can see.”

  Joe rubbed his chin. He didn’t seem as angry as she had expected, though his expression was tight and cold. “Well, that’s your opinion, I guess. I never knew you felt that way. Maybe you should have told me sooner.”

  “Really? What good would that have done? Were you ready to hear it? Are you even ready now? Your brother put his hand out to you. He said he was sorry, and I think he really meant it. What did you do, Joe? You pushed him away. That’s not like you. It wasn’t what we taught our kids to do, either. Right or wrong, it’s time to forgive. Do you really want to keep this anger, this ugliness, in your life?”

  Her husband shrugged. “I’m sorry, Marie. I can’t help the way I feel. Would you rather I lied to him? Would you rather I said, ‘Okay, I forgive and forget.’ And not really mean it?”

  “Of course not. But you have a choice to make, Joe. And I have to tell you, I’m ashamed of the way you’re acting.”

  His expression changed. Now he looked genuinely stung.

  “Yes, it’s true,” she said quietly. “I never thought I’d say that to you, and we’ve been married over forty years.”

  Joe leaned toward her. She could see a wave of anger wash over his features, but suddenly he looked very sad and even confused. “Marie . . . please . . . what do you expect me to do?”

  Marie shook her head. “I don’t know. It’s not for me to say. But I do know you can’t just push this aside anymore, like you’ve been doing all these years. We’re in our sixties now—you, me, Kevin. Your mother is nearly ninety. Who knows how many years any of us have left? Kevin is moving to New Zealand. We may never see him again. You have to face it now and figure it out.”

  * * *

  The snowstorm had ended just after dawn. Adele woke early and looked out the windows of the inn. She heard the sound of shoveling outside, but couldn’t quite see who was working or if they had made any progress yet.

  The entire world was covered with white, even the beach front, which she knew was unusual. It had to be one of the biggest storms that had ever hit this village on Christmas. Certainly the biggest she recalled.

  Would the Christmas Day service be cancelled, like yesterday’s service had been? That would be a shame, she thought, but it might be necessary.

  A quiet knock sounded on her door. “Adele, are you awake?” Claire called softly.

  “Yes, I am. Come in.” Claire opened the door and smiled at her. Adele had thought she was up early but Claire, as usual, had beat her. She was dressed in a down jacket, heavy wool pants, and high boots. Adele guessed she must have been outside already, helping to clear the snow.

  “Merry Christmas,” Claire said.

  “Merry Christmas to you.” Adele smiled at her dear friend. “What do you think of all this snow? Are we stuck on the island till spring? Not that I’m complaining,” she added quickly.

  Claire laughed. “It looks bad, doesn’t it? But the plows have been out, even on the isla
nd. Liza said she heard the bridge and the main road are almost clear.”

  “Oh, that’s good to hear.” Adele was thinking of Kevin. They had talked on the phone last night and had left their plans up in the air. The storm had missed Vermont, he reported. But they would still have to wait to hear how the roads in Massachusetts were for traveling. The thruway into Cape Light was another question.

  “And one of the deacons called from church,” Claire added. “The service has been moved up to noon. I think we’ll be dug out by then and will still have time for a nice breakfast. Liza has a big SUV, and Daniel will follow in his truck. In case we get stuck,” she added.

  It would take a caravan to ensure their safe passage from the island today, Adele thought. But it was Christmas. “Count me in,” she told Claire. “I can’t miss church on Christmas.”

  “I thought you’d say that.”

  After Claire left, Adele looked around the room for her heaviest clothing. She had a few things that would do and knew that Claire could loan her a pair of snow boots, which she would certainly need. She had a nicer outfit planned for the day, but would change into that once they got home from church. For now, warm and dry were her fashion priorities.

  She began to get dressed and was hungry for breakfast. She certainly couldn’t help clear the snow, but she could help in the kitchen. It was all hands on deck today. She wondered if the rest of her family would make it to church. Sam and his family would be there, she felt sure of that. Sam was a deacon and was probably there already, digging out the parking lot. Molly was also a determined soul and would wrangle her daughters and husband, even if they balked at going out.

  Joe and Marie were a question mark, though. Joe might be working today at the Spoon Harbor Inn, she realized. But he would probably come to church if he had the day off. She had not heard from him since Molly’s ruined reunion, but if she saw her son today, she would hold love and charity in her heart and greet him with the spirit of Christmas, no matter how he acted toward her. Adele promised herself—and promised God—that she would do that.