A Christmas to Remember

by Thomas Kinkade

  She bent down and picked it up. It was an old photo. In the dimly lit hallway Sara could hardly make out the image. Then she realized that there were old photographs scattered all over the attic steps and near the doorway.

  “You coming, miss?” one of the EMTs called up.

  “Be right there.” She stuck the photo she’d picked up in her pocket and hurried to catch up with her grandmother, now being taken out of the house.

  Please, God, don’t let her be in much pain. Don’t let anything really bad be wrong with her. Sending up a silent prayer, Sara readied herself for the long ride to the hospital.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Southport Hospital, Late November, Present-day

  “YOU’RE VERY LUCKY, LILLIAN. A MILD CONCUSSION AND two broken bones. A small price to pay at your age.” Doctor Bartow looked up from his notes and smiled.

  “Compared to breaking my neck completely, you mean?” Lillian murmured.

  “Mother, let the doctor finish. Please?” Emily Warwick stood at one side of Lillian’s bed. Jessica, Emily’s younger sister, and Sara stood on the other side. The doctor had left out the bruised ribs, Emily noticed, and the swollen spot around her mother’s eye, now covered with an ice pack, which would probably darken into a bona fide shiner. For the last few hours, Lillian had been rolled around the hospital undergoing tests. Then casts were put on her left arm and right ankle, which were both broken in her fall.

  “Excuse me, Doctor. Are you sure you prescribed a painkiller and not a placebo?” Lillian managed a momentary scowl then closed her eyes. A nurse had given her a painkiller some time ago, but Lillian insisted it wasn’t helping at all.

  Unsurprisingly, she wasn’t a very good patient, complaining at every opportunity and quizzing each medical professional who came near her on their experience and credentials.

  “If you want to kill yourself, check into a hospital,” she often raved. And had, several times during her tests.

  Of course, if she hadn’t been complaining, Emily, Jessica, and Sara would have really been worried about her.

  Doctor Bartow looked down at the notes in his folder. “She’ll need to stay overnight. We want to watch the concussion and her blood pressure. But she should be ready to go home tomorrow or the day after.”

  “That’s good news, isn’t it, Mother?” Emily’s voice was bright, the tone she used when trying to override Lillian’s expected objections.

  “Good for the insurance company. No wonder they have that big revolving door downstairs. Pretty soon it will be a drive-through window,” Lillian muttered. “Or perhaps the beds will pop the patient up and out like a toaster.”

  The doctor grinned. “Lillian, I have no worries about you. You’re sharper with a concussion than most of my patients are without one.”

  His expression grew serious again. “I understand she lives alone. She’ll need help around the clock for the next two months, at least. I suggest that you check her into a nursing home or a rehabilitation facility so that she can have proper care.”

  Lillian’s eyes flew open. “Why are you speaking about me as if I wasn’t here? She this and she that?” She struggled to sit upright. “I won’t hear of a nursing home. I simply won’t hear of it!”

  The doctor seemed puzzled by her reaction. “Only until the casts come off and you’re mobile again. You’ll need some physical therapy and—”

  “I won’t go. You can’t make me. I know my rights.” Lillian glared at him.

  Emily and Jessica exchanged concerned looks. Sara sat quietly, holding back a smile. She had no doubt that her grandmother would win this debate.

  “Another alternative would be for you to go home with one of your daughters,” the doctor said. “But even then you’ll need a home health aide around the clock.”

  “My sister and I would both be happy to have her,” Emily said.

  Lillian smoothed the edge of her blanket across her chest with her good hand. “You know that I prefer to be in my own home. Besides, both of you are out working all hours. I’ll be stuck in a tiny room, listening to noisy children and baby-sitters all day. And those vile cartoons on the television—”

  “I get the picture,” Dr. Bartow cut in.

  “We went through all this when she had her stroke, five years ago,” Emily explained. “She can be very stubborn—”

  “I’m comfortable in my own home. As most people are, or should be. There’s no crime in it,” Lillian insisted. “If I can be dumped in one of their houses with some medical attendant hanging over me all day, then why can’t I do the same in my own house, Doctor?”

  Dr. Bartow looked resigned. “It wouldn’t be my first choice, but if you won’t agree to any other alternative, I guess it will have to do. You’ll both be looking in on her, I assume?”

  “Every day,” Emily promised.

  “We both will. And Sara,” Jessica added, glancing over at her niece.

  Lillian sighed and closed her eyes. “Oh goody. I can hardly wait for all these visitors, traipsing in and out.”

  “Oh, Lillian, you know you love the attention,” Sara said with a laugh.

  “Yes, I’ve gone to great lengths to get some, haven’t I? I must crave attention desperately.”

  “What’s next, doctor?” Emily asked.

  “I’ll give you the information for the local agencies. She’ll need someone with her twenty-four hours at first, even with all of you visiting.”

  “Not at night,” Lillian piped up. “I’ll just be sleeping. Why does someone have to be there at night?”

  “In case you need to get out of bed or have some unexpected emergency,” Emily explained patiently.

  “Someone must be there at night, or I can’t approve this plan,” Dr. Bartow said firmly.

  “I don’t want a stranger in my house at night—wandering around, peering in at me, going through my things…. I won’t sleep a wink. They’re liable to give me a heart attack.”

  Emily touched her mother’s hand, hoping to calm her down. “We’ll figure it out, Mother. Jessica and I can come stay with you until we find someone you feel comfortable with. How’s that?”

  Lillian peered at her. “How can you manage that? And don’t tell me you’re going to bring your babies along with you. That would be even worse.”

  “We do have husbands, Mother,” Jessica reminded her. “Husbands can take care of babies when necessary. They’ll all be just fine.”

  “That remains to be seen,” Lillian huffed.

  Sara stood up and walked over to the bed. “Lillian’s right. It will be hard for either of you to stay over. I can do it. At least until we find someone she likes.”

  “What about your fiancé?” Lillian asked. “I don’t think he’ll like the idea much.”

  Lillian did not approve of Luke McAllister, Sara’s fiancé, and had never pretended otherwise.

  “Luke will understand. He’ll want to come visit you, too,” Sara said.

  “That’s just what I was worried about.”

  “Mother, really,” Emily said. “There’s no pleasing you. If it’s not one thing, it’s—”

  “Luke McAllister. All right, I give up. One can’t expect perfection in this world. I already know that.”

  Lillian closed her eyes again and rested back on her pillow. Everyone else in the room exhaled sighs of relief.

  “Do you think we should have her sign something?” Jessica whispered in a teasing tone.

  “I heard that,” Lillian said, her eyes still closed.

  The doctor struggled not to laugh. “All right. We have a plan. If you three can step out into the hallway a minute, we can go over a few more details and Lillian can get some rest.”

  “Excellent suggestion. I wish you would all go now and leave me alone.”

  Emily and Jessica kissed their mother good-bye then followed the doctor out in the hallway. Sara stood at the side of the bed a moment, then kissed Lillian lightly on her forehead, thinking she had already drifted off.

 
; Lillian surprised her, gripping her hand. She opened her eyes a tiny slit. “Thank you,” she mouthed the words.

  “You’re welcome. I’ll see you tomorrow,” Sara whispered back.

  Twenty minutes later, Sara found her way to the elevators and punched the button to go down. She reached into her jacket for her car keys and found instead the old photo she had picked up off the floor by the attic door.

  Two young women stood together, one with fluffy blond hair and a round face, who looked directly at the camera with light blue eyes and a guileless smile.

  The other was tall and thin, with chestnut-brown hair in a smooth, sophisticated upsweep that looked a bit severe. But the young woman was beautiful enough to carry it off. She had high cheekbones and a wide sensuous mouth. Large blue eyes were enhanced by the color of her ice-blue dress, a silk sheath with a matching stole. She wore long white gloves and a wide gold bracelet.

  Her gaze seemed to challenge the photographer, as if she dared him to take her picture. Sara had no idea who the blonde was, but she had a strong suspicion about the brunette. She would know that look anywhere.

  She flipped the photo over and checked the inscription on the back. Charlotte and Lillian. Newburyport Yacht Club. August 1955.

  Grandma had been a stunner. No doubt about it.

  Cape Light, August 1955

  LILLIAN LED THE WAY DOWN THE SHORELINE TO AN EMPTY STRETCH of beach with a determined, long-legged stride. She carried an umbrella, a beach bag, and a cooler, which didn’t seem to slow her in the least. The others trudged behind, rolling their eyes at one another.

  “I feel like I’m marching across the Sahara,” Bess, one of Charlotte’s friends, complained.

  “Did you ever see that movie with Frank Sinatra, when he signs up for the Foreign Legion? He’s dreamy,” another named Penny replied. “I’d follow him across a desert anytime.”

  “That was Gary Cooper, you goose,” Charlotte corrected her.

  “I don’t care who it was,” Bess cut in sharply. “How far are we supposed to go? I haven’t been hiking like this since summer camp.”

  Lillian sensed a mutiny on her hands, but she wouldn’t be swayed. Crane’s Beach was the best in the area for swimming and one of the prettiest. But also, the most crowded. She rarely spent time at the shore anymore, and she wasn’t about to sit in the middle of Grand Central Station, blankets edge to edge, noisy children kicking sand at you. She wanted to see the water without peering around a forest of umbrellas and beach chairs.

  “Lily, I can’t walk another step.” Charlotte let out a long breath. Her face was glowing, the same color as her flamingo-pink sundress. “I have to sit.”

  Charlotte dropped her chair and did just that, plunking down on the sand without waiting to open it.

  “Me, too. For goodness sake. I’ve had it, girls.” Bess did the same. She wore a white turban over her hair with large dark glasses and pedal pushers over her halter-top bathing suit. Lillian suspected Bess thought she looked very glamorous, but Lillian didn’t think she had any taste at all.

  Bess quickly pulled a compact out of her straw bag and checked her lipstick. It was perfectly applied, her lips taking on an exaggerated bow shape, but she swiped an extra coat on anyway.

  Lillian hardly used cosmetics; her mother insisted it made a girl look “cheap.” She certainly didn’t wear any to the beach; it didn’t make sense to her at all. But Charlotte and her friends seemed to think they were naked without their artfully applied layers and were always asking each other if their lipstick was still fresh.

  Lillian jabbed the bottom half of the umbrella pole into the sand, anchoring it firmly, then fit the top half in, and opened the umbrella. The others spread out blankets, undressed down to their bathing suits, and stretched out to sun themselves while they paged through the latest issue of Screen Magazine.

  They barely spoke to Lillian and she could tell she was only tolerated for Charlotte’s sake. She didn’t care. She felt the same about them. They had no serious interests or stimulating conversation. Lillian took out the book she was reading, a current bestseller, Herman Wouk’s Marjorie Morningstar. She doubted any of Charlotte’s friends had cracked open a real book since college. She wasn’t even sure Bess had gone to college. Maybe some no-name, two-year school. She was just a second-rate debutante, waiting for a rich, young man to marry her. At least Charlotte had become a teacher; that Lillian could respect.

  “How was the party at the yacht club last night? Did I miss anything?” Bess spoke without looking up from her magazine.

  “I didn’t go either.” Penny had taken out a manicure set and was industriously working on her nails. “Charlotte went—with Lillian, right?”

  Bess seemed amused. “Did you have fun, Lily?”

  Lillian didn’t know what to say. “It was interesting.”

  “Oliver Warwick cornered her out on the deck. He wouldn’t leave her alone,” Charlotte added. “He asked her to go out with him today, but she kept saying no. He’s called three times this morning.”

  Lillian stared at her cousin. Charlotte was probably trying to defend her, but she had asked Charlotte not to mention Oliver again. Charlotte had given her an earful of gossip about the town’s leading bachelor last night, and Lillian was sure she didn’t want anything more to do with him.

  “Oliver Warwick? Really?” Bess put down her magazine, looking as if she didn’t believe it.

  Lillian felt stung. As if an attractive man wouldn’t look twice at me. “I don’t know why everyone around here thinks he’s such a catch,” she said. “I found him quite full of himself…and annoying.”

  “He could annoy me anytime,” Penny cut in with a giggle.

  “To each her own, I guess,” Bess said languidly.

  “He is wild.” Charlotte glanced at Lillian. “My parents would never let me date a man who’s been divorced.”

  “My parents wouldn’t mind, not with all his money,” Bess said. “There are two sides to every story, girls. I heard his wife walked out on him. What else could he do?”

  “I heard she walked out after she caught him running around,” Penny countered.

  Charlotte had mentioned Oliver’s divorce last night, though she hadn’t given Lillian any details. It sounded as if no one knew the facts, and Lillian didn’t want to ask more questions and reveal her curiosity. Not to these girls.

  She kept her gaze fixed on her book, though she wasn’t reading a word, her ears tuned to every word.

  “Well, he got that girl from Ipswich in trouble. Louise…what’s her name. She worked at the bank, remember?” Penny shrugged a bare shoulder. “I heard Oliver’s father paid off the family, and she went to stay with relatives down south.”

  “Really? I thought she went up to Maine,” Charlotte said.

  “I don’t know where she went, but I heard she was trying to trap him. And she wasn’t even pregnant either.” Bess closed her magazine and stretched out on her blanket. “She’s just a gold-digger.”

  Once again, none of them seemed to know the facts of these shocking stories. Lillian found herself annoyed at them for the careless gossip, then she felt even more annoyed at herself for caring.

  Lillian forced her attention back to her book for a few minutes but was too restless to concentrate. “I think I’ll take a walk. Would anyone like to join me?”

  The other three looked at each other and practically groaned. “I’ve had enough exercise for one day, thank you.” Penny stretched out on her blanket. “I’m ready for a nap.”

  “Me, too,” Bess said, laying her magazine aside.

  Charlotte already had her eyes closed, so Lillian set out alone. She preferred her solitude anyway. She had just invited them to be polite.

  The stretch of shoreline ahead of her was just about deserted. The sky was clear and the sun strong, but a stiff wind whipped the waves to high, rough peaks. Lillian watched a few boats out on the water, dipping and bobbing. She walked at a purposeful pace, her steps tracing thro
ugh the foam on the smooth wet sand.

  A walk on the beach was an excellent way to clear your mind, Lillian had always found. And she was in need of a clear mind. As hard as she tried and no matter what she told the others, she couldn’t stop thinking about Oliver Warwick. The way he had looked at her. The sound of his voice. The way he touched her arm, held her hand.

  The way he kissed her.

  She certainly didn’t want to see him again. She didn’t even like him. So why couldn’t she stop thinking about him?

  Lillian didn’t understand her feelings. She didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all.

  Cape Light, Present-day

  THE CLAM BOX WAS PRACTICALLY EMPTY, EXCEPT FOR A MAN EATING at the counter and a couple sitting in the booth at the back. Sara took her usual table near the front window and settled in, waiting for Luke.

  Charlie Bates, the diner’s owner, was busy at the grill and hadn’t noticed her come in. Which was fine with Sara. Though she and Charlie didn’t get along, she came here anyway. It was convenient and the food was pretty good.

  Lucy Bates swept out from the kitchen and served the man at the counter. She smiled when she noticed Sara and raced over to her table. “How did you sneak in? I didn’t even hear the bell.”

  She leaned over and gave Sara a hug.

  “I know all the secrets. I used to work here, remember?”

  “How could I forget? When you worked here I used to look forward to coming in,” Lucy said ruefully. “So what are you doing hanging around alone on a Saturday night? Where’s Luke?”

  “He’s meeting me here. We had plans to eat out in Newburyport, but my grandmother had an accident. I just got back from the hospital.”

  “Oh, dear. Is she all right?” Lillian did not have many fans in town, but Lucy’s big heart accepted everyone.

  “She’ll be okay. She had a bad fall down the attic stairs. She broke her arm and her ankle and is pretty shaken up. It could have been a lot worse, though.”