Barry’s chin dimpled, as though he might sob. “That’s not the worst part.”
“You’re kidding. I missed something?”
“I know you’re not as tough as you seem. I know how much keeping that secret must’ve cost you. I know how much you’ve suffered. I know you.” Barry took her hand, and her hand trembled in his warmth. “The worst part,” he said, “is that you didn’t trust I’d love you no matter what. That’s what hurts the most.”
“Do you still love me?”
“I never stopped loving you.” Barry gave her a tight smile and squeezed her hand. “But I’m still angry at you.”
Katherine issued a laugh-cry and covered her mouth. She ran a shaky hand over his curly hair. As if forgetting their conversation, Barry held her hand to his lips. They made quite a pair. “Do you remember the question you asked me Sunday night?” she asked.
“Whether you still served coffee in bed?”
“Earlier Sunday night. The question I didn’t answer.”
Barry grinned, like a boy about to get everything he’d ever wanted. Like a man who deserved everything she owed him. Like a man capable of forgiveness.
“Yes,” she told him. “I’m ready to come home.”
CHAPTER 20
The end of the world came with a sound track.
Katherine spent New Year’s Eve at home with her family: her ex-husband she’d remarried, Barry; her biological son, Zach; and his live-in girlfriend, Katherine’s sort of daughter, Celeste. Katherine and Barry cuddled on the grayish-blue velvet sofa she’d brought home from her apartment. Celeste and Zach took the French-blue wing chair, Celeste slung across Zach’s lap. Zach ran his right hand up Celeste’s tights, from her ankle to the hem of her miniskirt. The fingers of Zach’s left hand sneaked beneath the bottom of a sweater Katherine saw as olive colored, even though Celeste insisted it was emerald green.
Katherine grinned and shook her head. Ever since Zach had gotten his cast off three weeks ago, he seemed determined to make up for lost time by not being able to keep both of his hands off Celeste. Yesterday at Lamontagne’s, Katherine had threatened to spray Celeste and Zach with water, as if they were cats in heat. That had only encouraged them to slip into the stockroom and shut the door behind them.
Minutes before midnight, a bottle of Freixenet sparkling wine chilled in a silver ice bucket alongside the coffee table, four crystal flutes sat at the ready, and the warm fireplace air held the aromas from their lucky New Year’s Eve dinner. Black-eyed peas for humility and good fortune. Collard greens, because who doesn’t need a few more greenbacks? Long noodles to encourage longevity. And a pork roast to represent the richness of happiness.
Inside the refrigerator, a ring-shaped Dutch chocolate cake awaited Zach’s birthday and symbolized coming full circle.
Across the living room, ABC and the perennially young Dick Clark broadcasted from Times Square. Crowds of revelers wore winter jackets and multi-colored hats and waved twisted balloons beneath electronic news tickers and Jumbotrons. Above the throng, the glittery white New Year’s ball readied for its plunge into the new millennium.
In Hidden Harbor, the weather was clear and cold, the thermometer on the porch hovering below twenty degrees, but Zach insisted they leave the farmhouse’s fireside warmth and venture outside to take in the last view of 1999.
The tidal river glowed faintly beneath the waning crescent moon. Barry snuggled up behind Katherine and wrapped his arms around her. She held on to Barry’s hands and hugged the moment. Zach positioned himself behind Celeste and asked that they tilt their heads to the night sky.
Zach pointed to the Big Dipper, standing erect as a shepherd’s hook, and the outer stars in the celestial bowl pointing a straight line to the North Star. “My dad taught me about the constellations when I was a kid,” Zach said. “And on Christmas Eve, we all went out to the yard to show Celeste how to stargaze like a Fitzgerald.”
By all, Zach meant his adoptive parents, Everett and Carol Fitzgerald, Zach’s brothers, Donovan and Ryan, and Zach himself. Last week, Zach had brought Celeste to the Arlington home where he’d grown up to meet his family, but not before he’d let Celeste and Katherine know he considered Hidden Harbor his permanent home. He wasn’t going anywhere.
Katherine and Barry’s calendar was open to possible travel. Then, after exploring the world beyond Hidden Harbor, Katherine wanted to explore a job in social services, starting as a volunteer for CASA, Court Appointed Special Advocates. Blake had inspired her. The simple act of giving him a job and becoming his friend had improved his behavior, his grades, and his self-confidence. She wanted to help as many at-risk kids as possible.
Katherine and Celeste had drafted a plan. Next month Katherine would sell Lamontagne’s to Celeste, but Katherine would stay on till the spring to help Celeste with the transition. Celeste had already selected a new name for her bakery: Sugarcoated, a fitting nod to Celeste’s snarky and newly recovered voice. Thanks to weekly visits with a shrink Barry recommended, Celeste was making amazing progress dealing with her eating disorder and coming to terms with the assault.
Katherine and Celeste had both discovered the benefits of speaking out versus holding on to secrets and sugarcoating the truth.
“If you’ve got something to say, speak now,” Katherine said, “before we all freeze to death.”
“Actually, I’ve got a couple of somethings to say,” Zach said. “When I was little, my dad taught me, if I was away from home, I could always look up to the night sky to find the North Star and my way home.” Zach sighed, a heavy sound that came out as a great white cloud. “So . . . yeah . . . after I pass next week’s physical fitness and mental fitness exams, and after I get into the academy . . .”
Katherine’s teeth chattered, and Barry rubbed her shoulders. “For the sake of our dwindling circulation, while we’re still middle-aged,” Barry said.This from the man who’d ridden his bike to work up until a week ago.
“My dad and I hashed it out,” Zach said, “and Katherine was right. He’s cool with me not going to law school and applying to the Maine Criminal Justice Academy instead.”
“But how?” Katherine asked. “Your color blindness . . .” After she’d learned she’d passed her deficiency to Zach, she’d looked further into the ramifications. Certain careers were off-limits to those with color confusion. Law enforcement topped the list.
“Dad found out about a doc in Maryland who invented color-correcting contact lenses, and got me an appointment,” Zach said. “Yes, Katherine, Celeste’s sweater really is emerald green.”
“I’m so proud of you!” Celeste turned in Zach’s arms, and he lifted her off the ground to kiss her on the mouth.
Extrasensory perception, clairvoyance, or similarly minded women thinking the same good thought? Celeste said exactly what Katherine was thinking.
Katherine gave Zach a kiss on the cheek. Barry offered Zach his hand for a shake, but when Zach took it, Barry laughed and pulled him into a bear hug instead.
“Wait, what does this have to do with your Big Dipper speech?” Celeste asked.
“Oh, that.” Zach’s hand went up to where his hair usually flopped over his brow. Last week, in the middle of Maine’s deep freeze, he’d inexplicably decided upon a shorter than usual haircut. Now Katherine knew why. He was trying on the outer trappings of his future role as a police officer.
Zach chuckled. “The Criminal Justice Academy is an eighteen-week residential program.”
“Zach!” Celeste said.
“I get to come home on weekends. And during the week, if you miss me, all you have to do is look up to the night sky and know I’ll be looking at the same bright stars.” Zach’s voice went from sure to shy. “You know, so we’re never, like, too far apart.”
“Beautifully said,” Katherine said.
Celeste held Zach’s face between her hands. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
Zach peeled Celeste’s hands from his cheeks. �
�Give me a minute and you might change your mind,” he said. Then he got down on one knee.
Katherine held her hand to her chest, her heartbeat accelerating through the orange yarns of her sweater. Barry wrapped himself back around her, and she squeezed his hand.
Dear God, thank you for sustaining me to this day.
“Celeste,” Zach began. “My density has brought me to you.”
Celeste giggled. “What in the world are you talking about?”
“That’s not the right line,” Zach said. “Haven’t you seen Back to the Future?”
“No.”
“Ah, heck. In that case.” Zach reached into his back pocket and produced a velvet box. He flipped open the lid to reveal a ring. Under the starlight Katherine couldn’t make out the jewelry’s details, but there was no mistaking where this was headed.
“I’m crazy in love with you,” Zach told Celeste. “Will you marry me and make me crazy for the rest of my life?”
So much for Zach winning any romance awards.
Celeste didn’t seem to mind. She covered her face with her hands. Zach stood up, and Celeste peeked through her fingers. “Is that a yes?” Zach asked.
“Yes!” Celeste yelled, her voice choked with happiness. “Yes, yes, yes!”
Zach slid the ring onto Celeste’s finger, and she jumped into his arms for a kiss, hooking her legs around his waist.
“Oh, good, we can go inside now,” Barry said.
“Barry!” Katherine popped him on the shoulder.
“Kidding! Congratulations, kids. And let’s go inside.” Barry took Katherine by the hand. “Like we didn’t see that one coming,” Barry said.
“One can’t assume,” Katherine said, even though Celeste and Zach had recently moved to an unfurnished apartment in Ledgewood and they’d spoken of saving money for a Cape with a white picket fence, a shingle roof, and a blacktop driveway.
“Why not?” Barry asked. “I always assumed you’d come back to me.”
“Until you gave up,” she said.
“For all of five minutes.”
Zach carried Celeste up the steps to the porch and then set her down so they could fit through the kitchen door. Celeste held on to Zach with her right hand. She extended her left hand beneath the stove’s hood light, revealing a square gem that looked goldish to Katherine.
“What kind of stone is that?” Katherine asked.
“It’s a peridot,” Zach said. “Celeste’s birthstone, plus it matches her beautiful green eyes.”
Now that was romantic.
“It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life,” Celeste told Zach. Then, to Katherine, “You know what I want to do right now?”
“Call Abby?” Katherine asked.
Celeste nodded, her smile tight. “Do you think she’ll be okay with this? I mean, because of her and Charlie?”
After Celeste had returned from New York a second time, she’d spent a few days with Abby, and their friendship had been going strong ever since. Abby and Charlie’s on-again, off-again romance had recently experienced a downturn, and they were taking a break.
“I think Abby would be upset if you didn’t call her. I know she’ll be over the moon for you, because that’s how I feel.” Her biological son and her sort of daughter would marry, making Celeste her sort of daughter-in-law. Katherine might plotz from joy. She looked away before Celeste could see tears pricking the corners of her eyes.
Barry was right. Katherine was Jewish by inoculation. She was a Jewish mother.
Celeste kissed Katherine on the cheek, letting her know she’d gotten away with exactly nothing.
“Your parents?” Katherine asked Zach.
“I’ll call them tomorrow,” Zach said. “They already know I was planning on proposing.”
Katherine nodded. Of course. As an adult, Zach didn’t require his parents’ approval, but he still wanted it, still craved their acceptance.
Some things never changed.
Celeste dragged Zach to the phone. Katherine took Barry by the hand and they went through the dining room to the living room’s fireside warmth and the TV’s New Year’s Eve broadcast.
Katherine started to sit down on the sofa, and Barry lifted her onto his lap. “Too far away,” he said, and Katherine nestled into his neck.
“Perfect timing,” Barry said, and for a second Katherine thought he was referring to the two of them getting back together and remarried, and Celeste and Zach’s engagement. Then she turned her attention to the TV and the ball lowering over Times Square toward the glittering, numerical year 2000.
Barry slid a hand beneath her sweater and rubbed her back. Of course, he’d also meant their perfect timing.
The broadcast zoomed in on a young man in the crowd, waving madly at the camera. From the studio above the fray, Dick Clark told him to say hi to his mom, because she was watching him on TV.
True enough. The whole country was watching Dick Clark.
When Dick Clark told the viewers to get close to somebody they loved, Katherine held on to Barry a little tighter. She thought of Celeste and Zach in the kitchen. She couldn’t hear them through the blare of the TV, but their love was as palpable as the sofa beneath her.
Were her mother and her sister, Lexi, sitting on sofas somewhere, chilling champagne and watching the ball drop into the new millennium?
Zach had decided he wasn’t interested in finding his biological father, Adam Bell. But Katherine had yet to commit one way or the other to Zach’s offer to search for her mother and Lexi. Did she really want to know what had become of them?
Celeste skipped into the room, pulling Zach behind her, proof that sometimes what you found was even better than what you could imagine. Zach sat down at the other end of the sofa and gathered Celeste into his lap.
Dick Clark told them to get ready, and they counted down the last seconds of the twentieth century. “. . . Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!”
“Wahoo!” Celeste yelled. “Best freaking New Year’s Eve ever!”
Zach dug some kind of token from his pocket, kissed it, and slipped it back into his jeans. “Best birthday ever!”
The second time Katherine had spent Zach’s birthday with her son.
“Happy birthday, sweet boy,” Katherine said, the same thing she’d told Zach on the day he was born. Katherine hugged Zach and then covered her eyes and burst into tears. Barry gathered her in his arms and she sobbed into his shirt. Over her head, Barry told Zach and Celeste she was verklempt, the Jewish word for “filled with emotion.” Katherine raised her head and wiped her eyes. “I’m fine,” she said, and then turned her face to the ongoing broadcast so she could catch her breath.
Barely audible behind the roar of Times Square revelers, “Auld Lang Syne” played, the sound track of New Year’s Eve.
Contrary to all the Y2K doomsayers, the world did not end. And if every single computer in the country crashed, Katherine would still be overflowing with happiness.
On a decades-ago New Year’s Eve, when Katherine was still young enough to think staying up late was a treat, she and Lexi had been allowed to watch the ball drop. “Auld Lang Syne” played, and Katherine’s father had been the parent who’d known the song’s meaning. For once, his words had been a gift, instead of a curse, that remained with Katherine to this day.
Zach slipped the champagne from the ice bucket, wiped the wet bottle with his shirt, and popped the cork. Sweet, white grape effervescence scented the air. Zach filled their champagne flutes and passed them around.
Barry raised a glass and took up the toast. “To family,” Barry said, and they tapped glasses. Katherine’s bottom lip trembled. She was dangerously close to losing it again. Dangerously, wonderfully verklempt.
Katherine thought of the way Zach and Celeste planned on staying connected when apart by gazing into the night sky’s constellation of stars. She wondered whether her mother and Lexi were both watching the New Year’s Eve broadcast and thinking of her.
/> Katherine hoped her mother and Lexi were with people they loved, safe and sound.
Right beside Katherine, Zach and Celeste snuggled, crazy in love and safe and sound. Katherine gave Barry’s hand a squeeze.
Everything she’d loved and lost she’d now recovered.
Katherine raised her glass of champagne to the TV screen. “To auld lang syne,” she said. And then she thanked her father for giving her one true thing and spoke the translation out loud. “To times gone by.”
Acknowledgments
For my niece Rebecca Thomson. You are beautiful, inside and out. Thank you for providing the research piece for Celeste’s eating disorder and helping us all come closer to understanding anorexia. Your message to be happy and accepting of what you have shines through the story.
I’m eternally grateful to my family. My husband, Bill, continues to hike simply for the where’s-Bill photo ops. (That’s the only reason, right?) And that photo where you’re reading and wearing the Lord of the Pies apron over your swim trunks? Genius. Thanks, honey! To my children: Ben, Josh, and Leah. I’ve only one bird left in the nest, but the three of you are always in my heart.
Thank you to my oldest friend, Ellen Kushner, for providing adoptee expertise and helping me slip beneath Zach’s skin.
Thank you to Jimmy, Kevin, and Jody Nason at Nason’s Stone House Farm in West Boxford, Massachusetts, for opening up your kitchen and sharing your considerable bakery expertise. (Especially Jimmy.) Research is delicious!
Thank you to sharpshooters Jim and Nancy DeMarco for taking me out to the shooting range at the Horse Pond Fish & Game Club of Nashua and keeping me safe. I fondly recall the CC75B compact that Jim said I couldn’t “shoot for shit.” Thanks for the great line! (In my defense, I did a lot better with the .22.) I’d also like to thank Mike Rhodes, a stranger who showed up and lent his guns and expertise. It’s amazing what you can get away with when you say you’re a writer.
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