Let It Snow

by Nancy Thayer

  Puzzled, Christina sat.

  “Christina,” Mimi said seriously, “we want you to know we’re aware of what a burden we’re placing on you, asking you to make Oscar change his mind. We can’t be with you in body—I believe he’ll be much more receptive to you than he would be to the gang of us. But we want to give you something to take with you so you’ll know we’re there with you in spirit.”

  Mimi handed Christina a small velvet box. Christina opened it to find a gold snowflake on a chain. “Mimi! You didn’t have to do this.”

  “Wouldn’t have done it if I’d had to.” Mimi chuckled. “Here, let me fasten it around your neck.”

  “And I’m giving you my uncle’s ancient briefcase.” Jacob brought out a handsome, scuffed leather briefcase. “You can carry it into the meeting with Oscar this evening looking professional. You won’t look like someone who deals in stuffed bunnies. You’ll look like a businesswoman who can do her own taxes and knows the value of a dollar.”

  Tears flooded Christina’s eyes. “This is a wonderful gift, Jacob. Thank you. I’m going to feel powerful and proud with this in my hand.”

  “Harriet?” Mimi prodded.

  Harriet could scarcely look away from the briefcase. Almost grudgingly, she said, “Okay, Christina. Here’s my offering. It’s a vintage Hermès scarf. Worth a fortune. Actually, it will go well with what you’re wearing.” She rose, tied the scarf around Christina’s neck, and adjusted it so that it hung perfectly.

  “Thank you, Harriet,” Christina said.

  “You’re welcome—strings are attached. If you get him to keep the rent stable, you can keep it. If you fail, I get it back.”

  Christina burst out laughing. “Agreed!” She looked from person to person. “Thank you all. These will be my good luck charms.”

  “Let us know what happens,” Mimi said.

  “I will. I promise.”

  The group broke up to return to their shops, which was a good thing, because it seemed everyone in town was shopping.

  Christina closed her shop and hurried down to her car, parked on the bottom of Main Street. She’d taken care with her clothes that morning, wearing a navy blue pantsuit that she thought made her look professional, the owner of a viable business, not just a young woman playing with toys. Now with the briefcase, the gold charm, and the Hermès scarf, Christina felt two inches taller and fifty IQ points smarter. She was good to go!

  While her car warmed up, she pulled off the Uggs that had kept her feet warm all day and put on a pair of low-heeled shoes. She freshened her lipstick and mascara. She stared at her reflection in the rearview mirror and said, “Good luck.”

  Janice welcomed her at the door and escorted her to Oscar’s library. At first, Christina was so stunned, she couldn’t remember why she was here. All those books! And the flickering fire and the plump, inviting leather chairs!

  “Oh, my goodness,” Christina said. “This room is heaven! I could stay here forever!”

  Oscar was sitting behind a massive desk, shuffling through papers. “Yes,” Oscar said. “I like it.”

  His businesslike tone brought Christina to her senses. She regretted having spoken so impulsively. She switched into her efficient, professional mode.

  “Oscar, Mr. Bittlesman, I’d like to talk with you about—”

  “What’s your poison?” he demanded.

  “What?”

  Oscar’s mouth twitched in amusement. “I asked you what you would like to drink. I prefer Scotch.”

  “I’d like a glass of wine. Red or white, whatever is easiest. Or prosecco, but you probably don’t have that. I can have Scotch.” Christina wanted to clamp her mouth shut with her hands to stop her nervous blathering.

  Oscar shot her a sour look. He pressed an intercom. “Janice, I’d like my Scotch now, please. And Miss Antonioni would like a glass of wine. She doesn’t know what kind she likes, so I’ll let you decide for her.”

  Oh, Lord, Christina thought.

  He gestured to a small sofa. “Sit down.”

  Christina sat. Oscar continued to work on his papers, so Christina waited patiently, hoping to keep in the man’s good graces.

  Janice entered with two glasses on a tray. She took a glass of white wine to Christina and a beautiful Waterford tumbler half-filled with amber liquid to Oscar. She left the room quietly.

  “Cheers,” Oscar said, raising his glass.

  “Cheers!” Christina replied, suddenly hopeful that this change in Oscar would predict a good meeting.

  “Now. What did you come to talk about?” Oscar asked.

  Before she could answer, the door flew open and Wink zoomed in.

  “Christina! I didn’t know you were here.”

  “I’m here for a business talk,” Christina told the little girl.

  “Oh, good!” Wink looked at her grandfather. “I’m learning all about business!”

  “In that case,” Oscar said, “you may stay here as long as you keep quiet. This conversation is between adults.”

  Wink perched on a chair, folded her hands in her lap, and solemnly nodded.

  Christina cleared her throat. “I’m here, Oscar, Mr. Bittlesman, on behalf of the four of us who run businesses on Straight Wharf. I know you’ve lived on the island for a few years, so I’m sure you know how the time of year affects our businesses. We make most of our money in the summer months. And during Christmas. We don’t make a large income from our shops, just barely enough to keep going, actually.” She reached into her handsome briefcase and brought out a folder. Leaning forward, she set it on his desk. “These are my tax statements for the past two years. I also brought the figures for Mimi’s Seaside Souvenirs. You can see that we can barely cover utilities and also make a small salary. If you raise the rent on the sheds, we’ll have to go out of business.”

  She paused. She had done the best she could, and she thought she had spoken succinctly and calmly, even though beneath her business suit, her heart was dancing the flamenco.

  Oscar flipped through her folder. Then he shrugged.

  “I have business expenses, also,” Oscar said. “I am, after all, a businessman. Have you ever thought that perhaps your businesses per se aren’t worth the trouble of running? I’m not to blame for that. I’m sure that if you four close shop, our firm will be able to find other people, with more attractive products, to take over.”

  Christina took a deep breath. She’d written out this little speech the night before and memorized it.

  “Oscar, what possible good could you achieve if you get rid of us? Maybe you could make ten percent more with other merchants. But Nantucket has always been about community. We know we’re isolated here thirty miles offshore. So we help each other. We don’t want to get rich at the expense of our neighbors.”

  “Miss Antonioni.”

  She ignored his interruption. She was determined to say her piece. “And have you ever been in any of the shops? Did you ever personally come into Christina’s Toy Shop to choose a toy for Wink? Have you ever bought an anemometer? Part of living on the island is preparing for gale-force winds. Have you ever bought a kite and taken Wink to fly it on the beach? And how charming would it be if you wore a sweatshirt with Santa riding a whale on it on Christmas Day? You could have so much more fun doing any of those things than sitting here barricaded in your house.”

  “Miss Antonioni.” Oscar’s words were a warning.

  Christina persisted. “You should come have lunch with the Shedders, get to know us a bit. Mimi is the most adorable, generous woman on the island. She would probably give you a sweatshirt, and she would definitely make you laugh. And you could stop in at the Hy-Line office. Many of the clerks there grew up on the island and they know the history. You could learn all about Nantucket. If you—”

  “Miss Antonioni!” Oscar rose from the desk, hi
s fists pushing into the blotter, his head shoved forward.

  He looked, Christina thought, much like a gorilla ready to charge. Oh, dear, she thought, this can’t be good.

  “I don’t care about all your cute little friends. I didn’t get rich by playing games with cute little friends. I’m a businessman. I don’t want your friendship. I want your money.”

  Christina’s mouthed gaped in shock. She’d never heard anyone say that before, not even the real estate dealers.

  She desperately tried to think of something to say.

  Then Wink rose from her chair with her small hands wrapped around each other and her blue eyes as wide as saucers and her face all scrunched up in worry. “But, Grandfather! Why do you care about money? You have money. You don’t have any friends. You need friends.”

  Oscar’s face turned burgundy. He yelled at Wink, “Get out of my house!”

  Wink burst into tears and ran from the room. A moment later, the front door slammed.

  Christina stood up, alarmed and angry. “How can you tell your granddaughter to leave your house?”

  “I didn’t say that!” Oscar bellowed. “I told her to get out of the room.”

  “No, Mr. Bittlesman, you told her to leave your house. That’s why you heard the front door slam.” A vein was throbbing on Oscar’s forehead. Christina didn’t want the older man to have a stroke.

  Oscar sank back into his cushy leather chair. He reached for his Scotch and drank it all in one gulp. His hands were shaking.

  “I’m sorry if I caused such a disturbance,” Christina said. “I’ll leave now. And see if I can find Wink.”

  Christina stepped into the large front hall and began the exhausting process of pulling on her parka, her gloves, her hat, her scarf.

  Janice came into the hall. “Is everything all right?”

  Christina was trembling and worried and angry and sick at heart. “Oh, sure, everything’s just fine. Mr. Bittlesman told his granddaughter to leave his house, and she ran out and I’m not certain she’s wearing a coat and Mr. Bittlesman is about to have a heart attack and I’ll have to close my shop on February first and so will my wharf friends.”

  Janice took Christina’s hands in hers. “Sweetheart, Mr. Bittlesman almost has a heart attack every day. Also, he’s getting older, and he often uses the wrong word. I’m positive he meant for Wink to get out of the room, not his house. Wink is a smart girl. She’ll understand that when she cools down.”

  “Well,” Christina said, nodding toward the fleecy pink jacket that Wink always wore. “I’m sure she’s cooling down now. Thank you, Janice. I feel calmer now. I’m going to go find Wink.”

  “Call me when you find her and I’ll call you if she comes home.”

  “Thanks.” Christina pulled on her gloves and hurried out the door.

  * * *

  —

  Because most of the houses on the cliff were summer houses, few lights illuminated the dark. Christina had a flashlight on her phone. Using it, she slowly walked around the Bittlesmans’ house, in case Wink was hiding behind a bush. But she found no one.

  It was exceptionally cold. By all logic, it should be snowing now, but the sky was clear. Christina slid into her old Jeep and turned on the ignition and the heat. She sat a moment, letting the car warm up and gathering her thoughts.

  Her phone buzzed. Without checking the caller ID, Christina answered.

  “I am going to sue you until you don’t have a pair of shoes to wear!”

  “Delia?”

  “Yes, of course it’s me. My father just told me that you made my daughter run away from home and Wink has never done that before! I can’t believe—”

  “Delia, I know you’re upset, and I’d like to talk with you about this but right now I’ve got to concentrate on Wink. I’ll find her, I promise.”

  “Call me the moment you do.”

  “I will.”

  “Oh, Wink,” Christina moaned as she tucked the phone in her coat pocket, “where are you? You must be freezing.”

  “I am!”

  Christina shrieked.

  Wink giggled and unfolded her small self from the floor of the backseat.

  “Wink, you almost gave me a heart attack,” Christina scolded.

  Immediately Wink looked contrite. “I’m sorry, Christina. But I am cold.”

  “Come up here and cuddle with me for a moment and then I’ll take you in to your grandfather.”

  Like a little pink eel, Wink easily slithered up and over the back of the passenger seat. She couldn’t properly cuddle with the gear shift in the way, so she climbed onto Christina’s lap and snuggled up there like a kitten. Christina pulled her own coat around her.

  “Grandfather’s mad at me,” Wink said, squirming to get comfortable and inadvertently elbowing Christina in the ribs.

  “Your grandfather is mad at me,” Christina said. “We were having a business meeting and those can often become confrontational. We shouldn’t have let you remain in the room.”

  “Grandfather gets mad a lot.”

  “Look,” Christina said, shifting around to keep her leg from falling asleep, “before we do anything else, you need to call your mother and tell her you’re okay.”

  Wink looked glum. “She’ll be mad.”

  “She’s your mother. You disappeared. Of course she’ll be mad.”

  With a theatrical sigh, Wink took Christina’s phone and called her mother. The conversation was loud.

  “But he did say it, Mommy! Grandfather told me to get out of his house. He really said that. He did! Ask Christina.” After another few minutes of listening to her mother, Wink said, “Okay” and handed the phone to Christina.

  “Take my daughter into the house right now,” Delia ordered. “You’ve caused enough uproar in our family already.”

  Christina opened her mouth to object but changed her mind. Delia was a champion at arguing and Christina wanted to bark back: Well, your father is ruining my life and the lives of my friends! But Wink was shuffling around, trying to get comfortable, and the nine-year-old was darling but heavier than she looked, and Wink really should let her grandfather and Janice know she was okay. Her Inner Christina hissed, Don’t make things worse!

  “Of course,” Christina said politely. “I’ll do it right now.”

  She tucked her phone away. “Wink, let’s go in the house. Everyone will be so glad to see you.”

  “Oh, Christina, can’t I come stay with you? For just one night?”

  Christina hugged Wink. “Maybe another night. Your grandfather is worried and it’s getting late.” She opened the door and twisted around and Wink pretzeled out onto the driveway. Christina took her hand and led her up to the door.

  She knocked. Janice opened the door with a worried face.

  “She’s fine,” Christina said. “She was hiding in the backseat of my car.”

  Janice exclaimed happily and bent down to fold the little girl in her arms. “Wink, we were so worried!”

  “I’m cold,” Wink said. “Could I have some hot chocolate?”

  “Absolutely. With two marshmallows. Come in now and show your grandfather you’re okay.”

  Little girls were like very short secret agents, much more cunning than expected with their sweet innocent faces, Christina thought. “Janice,” she said, “we’ve called Delia and she’s talked to Wink. I’ve got to get home now.”

  “Of course. Thanks, Christina.”

  Christina hugged Wink and said goodbye to Janice. Her car was waiting for her, still warm. She drove slowly down the hill and through the town.

  The shops were busy and the sidewalks were crowded with people heading into restaurants and bars for some Christmas cheer. Couples wore Santa hats and long-tailed, striped elf hats. Some had dogs on leashes, and the dogs wore headbands of re
indeer antlers. It was a cheerful scene, but Christina wasn’t touched by it tonight. She had done her best, but she’d been unable to change Oscar’s mind.

  Back at home, she plugged in the lights of the Christmas tree and fed Mittens her canned “pâté” and changed out of her work clothes into her cozy robe. She had promised to call Andy to tell him how the meeting went, but she wanted to catch her emotional breath first. In November, she’d made several containers of lasagna and frozen them for these busy December nights. She popped one into the microwave and poured herself a glass of red wine. Curling up on the sofa, she enjoyed her easy meal while she watched a charming British mystery made from Ann Cleeves’s books. Christina knew that while she relaxed, the back of her mind was dashing around, all neurons and synapses quietly working on the Oscar problem.

  When the program ended, she carried her plate and glass into the kitchen and washed up. Doing dishes calmed her somehow, it was like meditating while getting something accomplished. Never mind Oscar, she thought. She was ready to call Andy, but she had to be sensible and acknowledge to herself that while the electricity between them was powerful, she couldn’t count on a long-term relationship.

  Then, as if she and Andy were invisibly in sync, her phone buzzed, and it was him.

  “Finally!” he announced. “I’ve finished my business meetings. Now tell me how your meeting went with Oscar.”

  “It didn’t go well, I’m afraid. In fact, it turned into a dramatic three-ring circus.” She told him about her conversation with Oscar, who would not give an inch on the rent raise, and how innocent Wink had blurted out that Oscar didn’t need money, he needed friends. How Oscar had yelled at Wink, telling her to get out of his house, when Christina was certain the older man meant she should leave the room, and how Wink disappeared, and everyone was worried, and then Wink popped up in Christina’s car, and finally the drama was over when Wink returned to her grandfather’s house.

  “So,” Andy said jokingly, “not a successful meeting.”

  “No.”

  “I’m sorry, Christina. Delia and I are used to Oscar’s temper. Hell, everyone who works with him knows he can blow at any moment. But I’m surprised and angry that he yelled at Wink.”