by Nancy Thayer
“Why would you do that?” Sebastian looked genuinely puzzled.
“It’s a nice thing to do,” Nicole explained gently. She’d begun to see that in Sebastian’s former social-climbing world, niceness had no place. His life with Katya had been all about ambition. “It will save her from cooking something.”
Sebastian thought this over. “I see.”
When she stepped into Kennedy’s home, it was Nicole who saw, and her heart plummeted for the man she’d come to love and for his daughter. Clearly Kennedy had copied her mother’s style of décor, best described as “Glacial Chic.” Walls, furniture, floors, even wall art, were white. The living room coffee table was glass with sharp edges. The dining room chairs and tablecloth were black; the plates white. It was a hot summer evening when she first entered Kennedy’s home, and Nicole wished she’d brought a pashmina to ward off the chill.
Kennedy, blond and wire-hanger thin, wore a white sleeveless dress. Her husband, James, wore a starched white button-down shirt with khakis. Only little Maddox, chubby in his navy blue and white sailor outfit, provided a dash of color.
Everyone shook hands politely, and then Nicole sank to her knees in front of Maddox.
“Hi, Maddox. I’ve brought you a present.” She held out a brightly colored gift bag. She’d spent hours considering what to bring for the child, knowing as she did all the restrictions his mother placed on his life. Maddox was two then, much too young, Kennedy insisted, to watch any television. Also, he could not have any candy or anything sweet. Also, he was not to have anything “technological”—no remote-controlled cars or dump trucks, no handheld video games.
Wanting to get him something special, Nicole had bought him a silly-faced, shaggy-haired white goat which, when a button was pushed, burst into “High on a hill was a lonely goatherd” and continued singing through the entire song, wagging its head and batting its long black eyelashes.
Maddox clapped his hands and giggled when he saw it. Kennedy opened her mouth to object, but after a moment could think of no objection, and managed to say, “Tell Nicole thank you, Maddox.”
“Thank you,” Maddox said.
Nicole beamed as she rose to her feet. She had passed the first test. Proudly, she wrapped her arm through Sebastian’s arm, giving it a quick smug hug.
“Love-dovey—ick!” Maddox giggled.
Nicole started to pull her arm away.
But Sebastian laughed and with his other arm reached out and pulled his daughter next to him. “Maddox, I like hugs from my women.”
Nicole watched emotions flicker over Kennedy’s lovely face: surprise at her father’s unusual spontaneity; joy at being hugged by her father; consternation at being hugged when her father was with Nicole.
Dinner was a complicated casserole with a French name and a salad of puzzling gourmet lettuce called frisée that felt like sharp bitter hair in Nicole’s mouth. Still, she appreciated the trouble Kennedy had gone to.
“This meat is so tender,” Nicole complimented Kennedy.
Kennedy actually blushed. “Thank you. It’s daub au poivre. The meat is marinated with wine and all sorts of herbs. I had to find lard for the recipe. Lard. Who uses lard anymore? But I wanted to make it authentic …”
She’s nervous, Nicole realized, as Kennedy babbled on. Not nervous about Nicole, but about the excellence of her cooking. Kennedy’s eyes flitted to her father as she spoke, waiting for him to praise her. Nicole kicked Sebastian in the ankle until he spoke up.
“It’s delicious, Kennedy. Never tasted anything better.”
Nicole could see Kennedy’s shoulders actually relax, dropping a few inches away from her ears. A tender spot blossomed in her heart for the young woman.
But when time came for dessert, Kennedy refused to taste Nicole’s deep-dish apple pie.
Putting her hand on her waistline, Kennedy said, “I don’t eat desserts. We all know that sugar is bad for us. And I have to watch my weight, like mother does. I don’t want to get”—she glanced at Nicole’s rounder figure—“pudgy.”
Sebastian chuckled around a mouth of delicious pie. “We all gain weight as we grow older, darling.”
“Mother hasn’t,” Kennedy reminded him. “She’s got a gorgeous shape and a flat tummy.”
She probably doesn’t eat lard, Nicole wanted to say, but kept her mouth shut.
And that, as far as Nicole was concerned, summed up her relationship with Kennedy. One step forward, one step back.
Nicole and Sebastian married. The January ceremony was attended by only a few intimate friends since they assumed Kennedy would refuse to attend. Katya was blissfully redecorating her Boston townhouse and continuing to see Alonzo. Kennedy’s husband, James, was doing well with his work, and Maddox was growing out of the toddler stage, becoming more manageable. A delicate harmony existed in Sebastian’s inner circle; Nicole and Sebastian did not want to disrupt the peace.
Nicole sold her small apartment and moved to Sebastian’s Nantucket house to live year-round. She made friends, loved the small town, and began to anticipate the holiday season.
This year Katya and Alonzo were going to a tennis and cleansing spa. That meant that Kennedy, James, and Maddox were coming to the island for Christmas week.
The entire seven-day-long Christmas week.
2
Why did his parents need another baby? Maddox wondered about this constantly. It was going to be a boy, too, his mommy had told him. Wasn’t Maddox a good enough boy for his parents?
He tried to be a good boy. He ate his vegetables, even though they sometimes made him gag. He strained desperately to comprehend the funny squiggles on the page every day when his mommy tried to teach him to read, and he had already mastered the art of using the potty. Most of the time.
But Maddox had seen babies. They couldn’t use the potty at all. So why did his parents want one?
“You’ll have someone to play with,” his mommy promised. But a kid couldn’t play with a baby. Babies couldn’t throw a ball. They couldn’t even lift their heads.
It was a puzzle.
He’d suggested many times that instead the family could get a dog. With all his heart, Maddox wanted a dog. He could throw a stick for a dog and play ball with a dog and cuddle in bed with a dog … although maybe not. Mommy said they would bring dirt and germs into the house.
Nicole had given Maddox had a stuffed goat and even though Mommy said Nicole was a hag, he loved the animal, which sang—until Mommy removed the battery. Maddox named him Yodel and held him when he went to bed at night, rubbing Yodel’s silky tongue between his thumb and finger. It helped him fall asleep.
He knew, of course, that a real goat wouldn’t have a satin tongue, and he wouldn’t be able to rub the tongue, anyway, that would get drool all over the bed. Anyway, he didn’t want a real goat, which was too big. He wanted a small dog, so he could put his arm around it and feel its furry warmth against his body. He would like that.
When he was little, his mommy had held him in her arms a lot. Now that she was all stuffed with the baby, holding Maddox was too hard for her. She didn’t have a lap to sit on anymore, and Maddox was always, she said, poking him with his elbows or knees. He tried to be careful, but now Mommy said she was getting breathless since the baby’s bum was pushing against her lungs.
“I love you, Maddox, but you’re too much for Mommy.” That’s what she said yesterday. He was too much when he made a zoom zoom noise with his cars. He was too much when he wouldn’t eat asparagus.
Ugh, asparagus was so gaggy, like a long package of strings that caught in his throat. Maddox shuddered, remembering.
He hoped when they went to Granddad and Nicole’s house for Christmas he would get to eat other stuff. Maybe cake or pie. Nicole was nice to Maddox, even if she wasn’t a real grandmother. She had sent Maddox his very own Christmas card, and it had a cute puppy on it, sticking out of a Christmas stocking.
“That woman is just trying to make trouble,” Maddox’s mommy said
with a frown when she saw Nicole’s card. Maddox didn’t understand how a card could cause trouble. He hid it under his mattress so his mommy wouldn’t throw it away.
3
As they drove home from the firm’s Christmas party, Kennedy didn’t speak but allowed her frustration to steam out of her body as if she were an overheated pressure cooker, which she was.
“Kennedy,” her husband James pleaded. “Talk to me. Did you honestly have such a bad time?”
“I had a terrible time. I’m fat, my face is covered with blotches, I can’t breathe, and all the secretaries oozed around you with their four-inch heels and cute skimpy dresses, smirking and flaunting their cleavage.”
James sighed loudly. “Kennedy, hon. You’re almost eight months pregnant. Your hormones are making you crazy. No one flirted with me. Plus, I saw several secretaries and quite a few lawyers stop by to talk to you.”
James was right, but that didn’t make Kennedy feel any better. “I feel so ugly,” she wailed.
“You know you’re beautiful,” James assured her in a bored tone. He’d been having to say this a lot recently.
Kennedy closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the seat. Why couldn’t she be like her mother, who was always perfect?
The last time they had visited her mother, Katya had taken out her photograph albums to show Kennedy what she had looked like during her pregnancy, and of course Katya was glorious and glowing, seeming energetic and fit enough for another set of tennis.
Kennedy looked like Shrek.
Her obstetrician assured Kennedy the expected baby boy was of normal size, but she felt as if she were carrying a full-grown linebacker rigged with shoulderpads and helmet.
“You’ll feel better when we’re on Nantucket,” James said soothingly. “Your father and Nicole will pamper you.”
“But I don’t like that woman,” Kennedy protested.
“You scarcely know Nicole,” James reminded her.
Kennedy whimpered. “I want my parents to be together.”
James exhaled, losing patience. “That’s not going to happen. We’ve been over this before.”
Fine. Then Kennedy wanted to be with her mother. But Katya was much too busy playing tennis with her lover, Alonzo, and furnishing her new Boston condo. The fact that her mother didn’t want Kennedy around made Kennedy hate her father’s new wife even more. She knew, somehow, this wasn’t logical, but who ever said emotions were logical, especially during pregnancy?
Kennedy glanced over at her husband, seeing his strong profile as the streetlights flashed past. She could tell by the way his jaw was clenched that he was exasperated with her. She couldn’t blame him. She might be a pain in his neck, but she had pain everywhere! He wanted this second child as much as she did, but she had to do all the heavy lifting. Literally.
James didn’t understand the stress of parenting. Choosing the right preschool; keeping her child away from the evils of sugar, fat, and pesticide-spiked protein. Trying to keep the world safe by not buying plastic, while at the same time trying to give her child fun toys to play with. Keeping her four-year-old away from the damages television could inflict on an innocent mind, protecting her son from the sight of monsters, swords, and cannons … The list was endless. It was all up to her, because James was so busy supporting the family.
And now it was the Christmas season! Maddox was begging for a puppy, but Kennedy was going to have a baby. How could she cope with puppy poop as well as a new baby?
Sometimes she just wanted to cry and cry.
“Buck up, Kennedy.” James clicked the remote that opened their garage door and guided his BMW into its berth. “We’re home. You can go to bed.”
Right. There was another issue: bed. Bed with James. They hadn’t made love in forever. Why wouldn’t James want to have an affair with one of those sleek young secretaries in those tight-fitting dresses?
Kennedy burst into tears.
4
NICOLE’S TO-DO LIST
Make ten dozen cookies for Stroll.
Make Buche du Noel and freeze.
Make beef Wellington and freeze.
Lose ten pounds.
Make gingerbread house; use sugarless candy for decorations.
Find sugarless candy.
Christmas tree.
Laurel around stair banister?
Find freezable breakfast casserole recipes.
Start buttock-tightening exercises.
Early on the morning of the Nantucket Christmas Stroll, glittering crystal sunlight streamed through the mist onto the shops, streets, houses, and harbor, a mirror-like light it seemed you could almost touch with your fingertips.
But then the temperature plummeted and white clouds pillowed the sky, shaking out feather-like snowflakes.
Standing in her Nantucket kitchen, Nicole snapped the Saran Wrap off the roll with such force the sheet flew up in her face.
Live in the now, she admonished herself. Cherish the day.
Smell the damned roses.
She unpeeled the plastic from her nose and carefully covered the last platter of cookies for the library bake sale at the Stroll. She poured herself another cup of coffee, sank into a kitchen chair, and forced herself to appreciate her surroundings.
Honey-warm wide-board floors laid in 1840, a fireplace with a simple Greek Revival mantel, and an antique pine table mingled perfectly with state-of-the-art appliances and slate countertops. It was Nicole’s good fortune that Katya chose to keep the Boston house in the divorce and Sebastian decided to live here permanently. The house was a masterpiece—especially, Nicole mused with a satisfied grin, the brand-new bed she’d insisted on having installed in the master bedroom.
Nicole had made other changes in the décor. Though small and inexpensive, they had transformed the house from a museum-like sterility into a welcoming home. She placed plump cushions in jaunty patchwork designs on the chairs around the kitchen table, filled colorful pottery jars with flour, sugar, and other staples to brighten the counter, and hung an oil painting of an oystercatcher by Bobby Frazier on the wall. The comical seabird, with its orange legs and beak, amused anyone who saw it.
Nicole had lightened the rest of the house with similar changes: She’d removed most of the useless antiques sitting around collecting dust—how many brass lanterns, cobbler’s lasts, and hard-bottomed old benches did any one house need? She’d added a couple of deeply comfortable chintz-covered armchairs to replace the wooden ladder-back cane-bottomed relics in the living room, plush pillows softened the white sofas, and Claire Murray rugs woven with coastal scenes, Nantucket hydrangeas, or mermaids brought seaside color to the rooms.
Yes, she’d made the house hers. Hers and Sebastian’s. And with that thought, her mood flipped into happiness. She picked up the phone and speed-dialed her best friend on the island.
“Jilly,” Nicole said, “I’ve finished the cookies for the Stroll.”
“Fab,” Jilly said. “Want me to drive over and help you get them to the Atheneum?”
“No, thanks,” Nicole said. “Seb can help me tomorrow morning. I’m just calling to vent.”
“Vent away,” Jilly urged.
“I’ve got so much to do and I don’t think I can accomplish it all,” Nicole worried. “Katya was such a Martha Stewart purist. I’m a clodhopper by comparison.”
“You’re a nurse,” Jilly reminded her. “You can save lives. Plus, you’ve made Sebastian truly happy.”
Jilly spoke with authority. She’d known Sebastian when he was married to Katya. She considered Katya lovely but profoundly socially inept. Katya strived to be the best at everything, but her frosty empress façade hid an even frostier heart. Men lusted after her and woman were intimidated by her, but anyone who spent over five minutes with her went away feeling shorter, fatter, and flawed.
“Kennedy phoned Seb last night,” Nicole confided. “She says she wants both her mother and her father to be with her during the birth of her second baby.”
“January tenth. I know Kennedy hopes her parents will get back together, and what better bonding moment than the birth of their second grandchild?”
“I get the picture. A major family event and you’re left out.”
“Exactly.”
“What can you do?” asked Jilly.
“In reality? Nothing.” Nicole looked toward the kitchen window. If today’s crisp weather lasted through tomorrow, it would be ideal for the Stroll. “So I should stop obsessing over that and go back to obsessing over Christmas.”
“What are you getting Maddox for Christmas?”
“Kennedy insists we buy only wooden toys.”
“Oh, please. What does Seb say?”
“Um, let’s see: variations on ‘don’t worry about it’ and ‘it will be fine.’”
“Perhaps he’s right,” Jilly said. “After all, this is the season of miracles.”
Seb drove Nicole to the library before it opened. He parked on India Street and helped her carry in her platters of cookies decorated like wreaths, trees, snowmen and snowwomen. This allowed him the opportunity to dash down to the used book sale in the basement of the Atheneum a few moments before the crowds arrived.
Nicole stood on the front porch of the library behind a table laden with her cookies, chatting with Jilly, who was manning the hot chocolate urn. Nicole wore her red wool trapeze coat and a red Santa cap with white fake fur trim. Jilly wore a green wool coat, a headband shaped like reindeer antlers, and earrings, one red, one green, fashioned like Christmas tree lights. They flashed off and on.
This was conservative attire for the Stroll, when townspeople and tourists alike descended on Main Street to celebrate the season. Nicole and Jilly served hot chocolate and cookies to elves, polar bears, the puppeteer Joe Vito and his gigantic puppet Grunge, and to the carolers costumed in Victorian garb, with long velvet cloaks, bonnets, and top hats. Posh off-islanders wore fur coats and diamond pins shaped like snowflakes. Even the more staid citizens sported red mittens, green and white striped mufflers, and red wool caps.
