by Nancy Thayer
“I’ll come, too!” Wink cried.
“No, young lady, it’s late for you,” Janice said. “Let’s go brush your teeth and get in bed. I’ll come tuck you in and read you a story.”
Wink made her shoulders sag dramatically in a show of disappointment, but she spoiled the act by breaking into a jaw-cracking yawn.
Christina kissed Wink’s forehead. “Good night, sweetie. See you tomorrow.”
In the car on the way to Christina’s house, Andy said, “You’re so nice to Wink. I don’t know how to thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me! I like that little girl a lot. I’m having fun with her.”
“I can tell. But when her mother returns to the island…” Andy didn’t finish his thought.
“Are you afraid I’ll be abandoned?” Christina asked lightly. “Don’t worry. I’ve got plenty of friends, although none of them is nine years old.” She chuckled, but something stung her heart at the thought of losing the little girl’s company.
“So I’ll pick you up tomorrow night a little after six?” Andy asked.
Christina’s brain froze. “You will?”
“So we can go out and get your tree.”
“Oh, right! Yes. Good. Thanks! See you then. Thanks for the ride!”
* * *
—
The next morning while she ate a bowl of hot oatmeal sweetened with honey, she texted her friend Louise.
Can you come over Friday evening to help me decorate Christmas cookies? Bring Dora!
Dora was only seven, but she was a self-assured child who wore her curly black hair au naturel, sticking out of her head like spikes.
Louise texted back: What time?
Encouraged, Christina invited another friend who had a son. Before she left for work, she made several batches of sugar cookie dough, put them in the refrigerator, and did a quick wash and rinse of the cookie cutters. Then, while she was still charged with Christmas cheer, she sent a mass email to her friends, inviting them to a tree decorating party on Saturday night.
* * *
—
At lunch with the other Shedders that afternoon, Mimi said, “Christina, thanks for your invitation. I’ll be there!”
“Yes,” Jacob said. “I’ll come, too.”
Christina swallowed a bite of her tuna fish sandwich before asking Harriet, “How about you? Can you come?”
“Who else is coming?” Harriet asked, busily tearing the crusts off her sandwich.
“What you mean is, is Andy Bittlesman coming, right?”
Harriet didn’t even blush. “Right.”
“I don’t know. I haven’t invited him yet. But he probably will come, with Wink.”
Harriet asked, “Wink’s his niece, not his daughter, right?”
Christina grinned. “You don’t want to have any stepchildren?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Harriet snipped. She added, “Okay, I’ll come.”
* * *
—
When Andy picked Christina up that evening, it was pouring rain.
She shivered as she slid into the car. “I’m so glad I already chose the tree. We won’t have to wander around in this downpour.”
“I put the backseat down. I think we can put the tree in through the back hatch. We won’t have to worry about tying it on top of the car.”
“Didn’t Wink want to come?”
“She’s doing FaceTime with her mother.”
“Oh…how is Delia?”
Andy shook his head. “Stubborn. So is Jeff, her husband. I don’t see this ending before Christmas.”
“But Wink…”
“Wink will be fine. If necessary, my sister can send Jeannette to help with Wink.”
“Jeannette?”
“Delia’s housekeeper and babysitter. Wink probably sees her more often than she sees her own mother. Don’t scowl. Delia is on a lot of charitable boards. Wink, as you can tell, is just fine.”
“Wink certainly has a lot of people in her life…”
“Try thinking of Mrs. Harris and me and Jeannette as the daffy aunts and uncles.”
Lighten up, her Inner Christina ordered. Wink was not her responsibility. “Yeah, that works.”
“Good, because I think you’re becoming one of the daffy aunts.”
“Oh, I think I can be a fabulous daffy aunt!”
At the Christmas tree farm, they hurried through the rain to the shed to pick up Christina’s tree from a clerk in a dripping raincoat. Andy hefted the pine and gently installed it in the hatch of his car.
“Well done!” Christina said as they rushed to get in the car and out of the rain.
“I do a lot of things well,” Andy said, giving her a sideways grin.
Ignore him, her Inner Christina whispered. All her life she’d fallen for adorable summer guys who left for college or travel at the end of the summer. She didn’t need a botched romance at Christmas!
Andy carried the tree into her house. Christina placed the stand in front of the window, and together they got the tree firmly positioned.
“Thanks!” Christina said heartily.
They were standing very near to one another, of necessity. They both stepped back, heads cocked to the side, studying the tree to be sure it was straight.
“Looks good,” Andy said.
“It does.” Now that the tree was taken care of, Christina said, because it seemed the natural thing to do, “Would you like a drink? Some wine?”
“I would,” Andy replied, his voice soft.
For one long moment, Christina and Andy stood looking at each other, caught in a moment out of time, when marvelous and unexpected things happened. Christina wanted, very much, to kiss Andy, really kiss him, but the name Anastasiya floated through her mind like a banner on a television newscast.
“I’ll get the glasses,” Christina said. “Make yourself comfortable.”
“May I help?” Andy asked, keeping his gaze on her steadily, as if unwilling to let her move away.
“No, of course not, I’m only—” Suddenly she was flustered. Babbling. And she knew her cheeks had gone red. She wanted to jump the man!
She’d be lucky if she could make it to the kitchen without walking into a wall.
“I mean, would you prefer red wine or white? Or maybe coffee? Or tea?”
His smile was sweet. “Christina, I’d like a glass of wine. Red if you have it.”
She nodded and left the room. In the kitchen, she bent over the sink and splashed her face with cold water. This kind of undeniable magnetism had never happened to her before. It thrilled her. And terrified her.
She took down two wineglasses and filled them with pinot noir. By the time she returned to the living room, she was composed.
Andy was sitting on the sofa, a magazine in his hand. “Thanks,” he said, taking his glass.
Christina curled up in a chair across from him.
“It smells like Christmas in here,” she said. “Thanks so much for helping me with the tree.”
“You’re more than welcome.” Andy leaned forward.
Christina held her breath.
He held up the magazine. “I found an article in here about the coastal preservation association. I’ve been thinking of joining their board. What do you know about the group?”
Christina relaxed, sipped her wine, and took a moment to think. “I don’t know who’s on that board. Nantucket has several environmental conservation organizations. To be honest, everyone loves the island and wants to protect it, but not everyone agrees on exactly how to do that.”
Andy nodded. “I think I understand. I’ve been on some boards in the city that raise funds for various museums and symphonies. But mostly those have been boards I feel obligated to be on because of my mother’s in
terests.” He drank some wine. “I’ve been thinking about our talk at Fifty-Six Union. I don’t want to rush in here like some rich city guy and throw my money around and get my face in the paper. Maybe it sounds odd, or arrogant, but I think I’ve changed during the few months I’ve spent on the island—and I know my connection to this place can’t compare with yours, or with that of anyone who grew up here.”
Christina nodded, listening.
“I sailed here this summer,” Andy said. He let out a long breath. “Sailing can be such a powerful experience, even on the quietest day. I’d go up into the Polpis Harbor, or out past the Jetties, and it seemed that everything in my life just fell away, like a weight slipping off my back. I was simply there with the clear water and the unpredictable wind. The sail would luff, and it was like a live thing breathing. The main sheet would tug in my hand like an invisible spirit. I’ve never felt more myself, and never been so far away from the man I’ve been for years.”
“Andy, that’s wonderful,” Christina said. “You sound like a poet.”
“I probably sound like a jackass,” Andy said, grinning. “Just another guy who has an earthy-crunchy moment of bliss.”
“No, you’re wrong,” Christina told him, and now she leaned forward. “Andy, lots of people summer here, sail here, play tennis here, because it’s chic. So many guys I know—good guys, nice guys—sail because it’s fun, and they toss back beers and capsize and right the boat and howl with laughter. I don’t believe I’ve ever heard anyone talk the way you just did.”
“You probably think I’m a nerd.”
“I don’t think that. I think…I think you’re remarkable.” And here we go, her IC groaned.
Andy rolled his eyes and relaxed deep into the sofa. “I don’t usually talk so much. But I can tell how you feel about the island, so I can be bold enough to talk this way. My schoolmates, my friends, even my former girlfriends, including Anastasiya, are crazily competitive. They drive themselves hard. If the Dow is down, they act like their dog died, they get plastered and curse and cry—it’s not pretty. And my father…when I was growing up, he wasn’t around much, but when he was home, Mom and Clara, our nanny, would sort of shove us upstairs to our rooms. They’d even bring our dinners up because they didn’t want to risk us doing something wrong and making Dad even more angry. And the guy Delia married, Wink’s dad, is just like our dad. I hate that for her.”
“Wink’s lucky she has you for an uncle.”
“Is she? I’m not so sure. It seems to me what Wink could use in her life is some security. Continuity. A stable home. Delia’s marriage is in turmoil right now. My father sold his Park Avenue apartment when he came here, so the place where Wink spent time as a little girl is gone.”
“Children don’t remember much from their early years,” Christina told him. “And Delia and her husband…”
“Jeff.”
“Even if Delia and Jeff are having trouble now, they must have been pretty good parents to have a little girl as happy and confident as Wink.”
“You’re right.”
“Wink is their daughter, after all. You said you want to be Goofy Uncle Andy.” Christina grinned.
Andy laughed. “I did. I am.” He finished his wine. “I should go and let you get some rest.”
They both rose. “Andy,” Christina said, “Friday night I’m having a couple of friends with children over here to help me decorate Christmas cookies. In my family, we always made some extra gingerbread men and women and sugar cookie stars and poked small holes in their heads to put ribbon through. Then we’d hang them on the tree. So Saturday night, I’m going to have a tree decorating party. I’d love it if you could come both nights. Or either.”
“Sounds great. I’ll come both nights, and I’ll bring Wink.”
“Good.”
For another moment they stood smiling at each other, as if time had hit a pause button, and then Andy leaned forward and kissed Christina softly on her mouth.
“Forgive me for talking so much,” he said.
“Nothing to forgive. I enjoyed it.” I enjoyed the kiss, too, Christina wanted to say, but her Inner Christina wouldn’t let her. “I’m glad you talked. I’m glad you’re coming to the parties. I’m glad you and Wink got me into the Christmas spirit.”
“Me, too,” Andy said.
They stared at each other for another long moment before laughingly forcing themselves to look away. Christina walked Andy to the door, and stood watching him as he got into his car and drove off, the taillights of his car blinking like stars.
A lull often fell in the second week of December, as shoppers recovered from the excitement and extravaganza shopping of Stroll Weekend. Not many customers that Friday—bad. Lots of energy for her cookie party tonight—good!
On her way home from work, Christina stopped at the grocery store to buy every kind of decoration imaginable. Sprinkles, silver balls, confectioner’s sugar, food coloring, and icing bags. At home, she changed into yoga pants and an old flannel shirt of her father’s. She put on some lighthearted Christmas music about chipmunks wanting their two front teeth. She rolled out the refrigerated cookie dough and mixed up another batch.
She was finishing the first bowl of icing when Louise and Dora arrived. And then her childhood best island friend Allen and his son, Chad, who was eight and had a mild form of autism, came in. Chad would probably stand in the corner of the kitchen staring down at the floor, but at least he would be out of the house and among friends doing fun things.
Andy arrived with Wink.
Wink’s eyes widened when she saw the other girl. She reached for her uncle’s hand. Andy frowned, curious.
“Hi, guys!” Christina swept over to Wink, knelt in front of her, and kissed her cheek. “I decided it would be more fun if we had a little party. Can you stay, Andy? Wink, come and meet Dora.” Christina knew not to gawk at the two girls, watching to see if they liked each other. “And this is Allen, and that’s his son, Chad, over in the corner,” which she knew from experience was the only way Chad was comfortable meeting new people.
“And I’m Louise, Dora’s mom,” Louise said to Andy, cocking her head and looking him up and down with a smile on her face.
“Nice to meet you.” Andy shook her hand.
“Much nicer to meet you,” Louise joked.
“Pay no attention to her,” Christina said. “She’s shameless. Right. I’ve made eggnog for the adults,” she told them, “with a slight bit of rum, the way my parents made it. It’s in the refrigerator. Help yourself. I’ve got to take a sheet of cookies out of the oven. For the kids, just water. I have a feeling they’ll be enjoying enough sweet stuff.”
For a moment, the group stalled, and then Christina put the first row of cookies on waxed paper, and Dora and Wink began a serious discussion of which colors to make the bell and the star and the snowman, and Allen asked Andy if he had just moved to the island, and Andy explained his situation, including the fact that his last name was Bittlesman, and conversation stalled again for a moment.
Louise broke the silence. “Where’s the Christmas music?”
“I’ve got it right here,” Allen said, tapping his phone.
The cheerful tune of “Frosty the Snowman” flowed through the air.
“Perfect,” Christina said. “Okay, let’s get busy. Everyone gather around the kitchen table. I’ve made several piles of cookies. We’ve got four colors of icing—red, white, green, and blue. You can use an icing bag, but I find a knife works as well. We’ve got lots of sprinkles. I have dibs on putting ribbon through the holes for hanging on the tree. Sometimes people get a little carried away with the holes.” She grinned at Louise. Last year, Louise had had a cookie decorating party and two boys had decapitated Santa and a gingerbread man.
They set to work. The girls concentrated on their cookies, murmuring to each other. Allen
took a cookie on a plate and a small bowl of icing and set it on the floor in front of Chad, who squatted down and carefully, slowly iced his cookie.
“So this must be the first time you’ve ever been in a kitchen,” Louise said to Andy with a smug smile.
Christina opened her mouth to object. Louise was always a mischief maker, from kindergarten on, but this was insulting.
Before she could speak, Andy said, “Yes, that’s true. I’ve never been in a kitchen. We always had Cook prepare our meals. We had seven dining rooms, because Mother found it just too boring to eat in the same room every day. Of course we had dogs for tasters, in case someone wanted to poison us. We lost only three or four dogs that way.”
Both girls and even Chad were staring at Andy as if he’d grown another head.
Then Wink said, “Uncle Andy, that’s not true! You’re just being silly!” Looking around the table, she said, “We’ve never had dogs. Mrs. Janice cooks for us here, and Mommy cooks in the city and sometimes when Uncle Andy makes pancakes he lets me stir the batter.”
“Oh, dear,” Louise said. “Andy, I owe you an apology. I was trying to bait you.”
“No apology necessary,” Andy told her. “We did have a cook while my mother was ill, and my father hired Janice Harris to be his cook and housekeeper now that he’s older.”
“Janice Harris?” Louise asked. “Our Janice Harris?”
Andy looked puzzled.
Allen spoke up. “Louise means that Janice is an islander. Born here, grew up here, married and raised her children, and was widowed here. She’s a wonderful woman. Knows everyone in town. Helps with voter registration. Takes library books to shut-ins. A treasure.”
“I’m surprised she’s working for Mr. Bittlesman,” Louise said, and the joking tone had left her voice. “I didn’t know she needed money. I mean, she’s not wealthy, but I thought she was doing okay.”
“Maybe she was bored,” Christina suggested.
“But she has a zillion friends,” Louise countered.
“That’s not the same as having a job. Janice likes to keep busy.”
