“Yeah, some. It’s better than sitting at home. Christmas with my family is always a big deal. It kind of depresses me to be away from all that, unless I keep busy. How come you’re not going to all those big fancy parties?”
“Because that would depress me. I’d rather be alone this year.” She was thinking of the hearing on the eighth again. It was strange though, lately things with Luke had seemed nearly normal. The first shock of the hearing was gone. It almost didn’t seem real. Just a meeting they would have to go to, nothing more. Nothing could touch the magic circle around Kezia and Luke. Certainly not a hearing.
“So you’re sitting around there all by yourself?”
“Sort of.”
“What do you mean ‘sort of’?”
“Well, okay. Yeah. I am all by myself. But it’s not like I’m crying my eyes out. I’m just enjoying being peaceful at home.”
“Sure. With presents for Luke all over the house, and a Christmas tree you haven’t bothered to decorate, and not answering the phone, or only when you think it might be Luke. Listen, lady, that’s one stinking way to spend Christmas. Am I right?” But he knew he was. He knew her by now.
“Only partially, Father Alejandro. Boy, you sure like to lecture!” She laughed at the tone of his voice. “And the presents for Luke are not ‘all over the house,’ they’re neatly stacked on my desk.”
“And what about the tree?”
“I didn’t buy one.” Her voice was suddenly meek.
“Sacrilege!”
She laughed again and felt silly. “All right. I’ll go buy one. And then what do I do?”
“You don’t do anything. Do you have any popcorn?”
“Hmmm … yes. As a matter of fact, I do.” There was still some left from the last time she and Luke had made popcorn in the bedroom fireplace at three in the morning.
“Okay. Then cook up some popcorn, make some hot chocolate or something, and I’ll be there in an hour. Or do you have other plans?”
“Not a thing. Just waiting for Santa.”
“He’ll be on the subway and down in an hour.”
“Even if I don’t have tequila in the house?” She was teasing him; she was glad he was coming.
“Don’t worry. I’ll bring my own. Imagine not having a tree!” Friendly outrage crept into his voice. “Okay, Kezia. See you later.” He already sounded busy as he hung up the phone.
He arrived an hour later with an enormous Scotch pine dragging behind him.
“In Harlem, you get them cheaper, particularly on Christmas Eve. Down here this would cost you twenty bucks. I got it for six.” He looked chilled and ruffled and pleased. It was a beautiful tree; it stood a head taller than he, and its branches reached out furrily when he pulled off the ropes that had bound them. “Where’ll I put it?” She pointed to a corner, and then unexpectedly reached up and kissed his cheek.
“Alejandro, you are the best friend in the world. It’s a beautiful tree. Did you bring your tequila?” She hung his coat in the closet and turned back to look at the tree. Now it was beginning to look like Christmas. With Luke not planning to come home, she hadn’t done any of the things she usually loved. No tree, no wreath, no decorations and very little Christmas spirit.
“My God, I forgot the tequila!”
“Oh no … how about cognac?”
“I’ll take it.” He smiled at the offer with obvious pleasure.
She poured him a glass of cognac, and went to ferret out the box of Christmas tree ornaments from the top shelf of a closet. They were old ones, some of which had been her grandfather’s. She took them out tenderly, and held them up for Alejandro to see.
“They look pretty fancy to me.”
“No, just old.”
She joined him in a glass of cognac and together they strung lights and hung baubles until there were none left in the box.
“It really looks beautiful, doesn’t it?” Her face lit up like a child’s, and he reached over and gave her a hug. They sat side by side on the floor, their cognac glasses and a huge crystal bowl full of popcorn beside them.
“I’d say we did a damn good job.” He was a little merry from the drinks, and his eyes looked soft and bright.
“Hey … you want to make a wreath?” She had just thought of the ones she had made every year as a child.
“Make one? With what?”
“All we need is a branch from the tree … and some fruit … and … let’s see, wire….” She was looking around, getting organized. She went to the kitchen and came back with a knife and some scissors. “You cut off a branch, one of the lower ones in the back so it won’t show. I’ll get the rest.”
“Yes, ma’am. This is your show.”
“Wait till you see.” The light in his eyes had been contagious and now hers shone too, as she gathered what they would need. They were going to have Christmas! In a few minutes, it was all spread out on the kitchen table. She wiped her hands on her jeans, rolled up the sleeves of her sweater, and set to work, as Alejandro watched, amused. She looked a lot better than she had two hours before. She had looked so lost and sad when he arrived, and he hadn’t liked the sound of her voice on the phone. He had canceled a date, a dinner, and two promises to ‘drop in,’ but he owed this one to Luke. And to Kezia. It was crazy; there she was in her fancy apartment, with all her millionaire friends, and she was alone on Christmas. Like an orphaned child. He wasn’t about to let it stay that way either. He was glad he had canceled his plans and come down. For a moment, he hadn’t been sure she would let him.
“You going to make a fruit salad?” She had apples, pears, walnuts, and grapes spread out near the branch.
“No, silly. You’ll see.”
“Kezia, you’re crazy.”
“I am not … or maybe I am. But I know how to make a wreath anyway. I used to make ours every year.”
“With fruit?”
“With fruit. I told you, you’ll see.” And he did. With deft fingers, she tied the branch together with wire, and then carefully wired each piece of fruit and attached it to the wreath. The finished product looked liked something in a Renaissance painting. The thick pine branch was covered with a neat circle of fruit, the nuts scattered here and there, the whole thing held together with an invisible network of fine wire. It was a handsome ornament, and Alejandro loved the look on her face. “See! Now where’ll we put it?”
“On a plate? It still looks like a fruit salad to me.”
“You’re a barbarian.”
He laughed and pulled her into his arms. It was warm and comfortable there.
“You’d never get away with a wreath like that in a poor neighborhood. It’d be picked clean in an hour. But I will admit … I like it. It’s a beautiful wreath—for a fruit salad.”
“Asshole.”
“Yup. That’s me.” But she was still comfortably lodged in his arms as they spoke. She felt safe there; she liked it. She pulled reluctantly away after a few moments, and their eyes met with laughter.
“What about some dinner, Kezia? Or are you serving the wreath?”
“You take one bite out of that and I’ll brain you! One of my friends’ brothers did that one year and I cried for a week.”
“He must have been a sensible kid, but I can’t stand women in tears. We’d better go get a pizza.”
“On Christmas?” She was shocked.
“Well, they don’t sell tacos in this part of the world, or I would have suggested that Can you suggest anything better?”
“I certainly can!” She still had the two Rock Cornish game hens she had been saving for Luke’s Christmas dinner, just in case he came home. “How about a real Christmas dinner?”
“How about saving that for tomorrow? Will the invitation still be good?”
“Sure? Why … do you have to go now?” Maybe he was in a hurry, and thus the suggestion of pizza. Her face suddenly fell, and she tried to look as though nothing had happened. But she wanted him to stay. It had been such a nice evening.
“I’d love it.”
She put another sweater on over the one she already wore, thick red wool socks, brown suede boots, and buried herself in a lynx jacket and hat.
“Kezia, you look like someone in a movie.” She had the kind of beauty which appealed to him. Luke was a damn lucky man.
She told the answering service when they’d be back, in case Lucas called, and together they braved the biting night air. There was no wind, only a bitter frost which seared the lungs and eyes.
They stopped for hamburgers and hot tea, and she laughed as he told her of the chaos of Christmas in a Mexican home. A thousand children underfoot and all the women cooking, their husbands drunk, and parties in every home. She told him the things she had liked about her Christmases as a child.
“You know, I never got the purple-sequined gold dress.” She still looked almost surprised. She had seen it in a magazine when she was six, and had written all about it to Santa.
“What did you get instead? A mink coat?” He said it teasingly, without malice.
“No, darling, a Rolls.” She looked down her nose at him from beneath the big furry hat.
“And a chauffeur, of course.”
“No, I didn’t get him till I was seven. My own, of course, with two liveried footmen.” She giggled at him again from under the hat. “Shit Alejandro, they used to drop me three blocks from school when I was a kid, and then follow me. But I had to walk the last bit of the way because they didn’t think it was cool for me to arrive at school with a chauffeur.”
“That’s funny. My parents felt the same way. I had to walk too. It’s really rough what kids have to go through, isn’t it?” His eyes laughingly mocked her.
“Oh shut up.”
He threw back his head and laughed. Plumes of frost flew from his mouth in the cold night air.
“Kezia, I love you. You are really one crazy lady.”
“Maybe I am.” She was thinking of Lucas.
“Man, I wish I had bought some tequila. It’s gonna be colder than shit on the ice.” She giggled at him then, looking like a child with a secret. “I’m glad you think it’s so funny. Me, I’m not wearing fur, and if I fall on my ass, which I will, I’ll wind up with a good case of frostbite.” She giggled again, and with a white cashmere mittened hand pulled a fiat silver flask from her pocket. “What’s that?”
“Instant insulation. Cognac. The flask was my grandfather’s.”
“The dude was no dummy. That’s a mighty thin flask. Hell, you could wear that in your suit and no one would spot it … pretty cool.” Arm in arm, they walked into the park, and began to sing “Silent Night.” She unscrewed the cap on the flask and they each took a sip before she put it back in her pocket, feeling much better. It was one of those rare nights in New York when the city seemed to shrink. Cars had all but disappeared, buses seemed quieter and fewer, people were no longer rushing and actually took the extra second or two to smile at passersby. Everyone was either at home or away, or hiding from the fierce winter cold, but here and there groups were walking or singing. Kezia and Alejandro smiled at the other couples they passed, and now and then someone joined in their songs. By the time they got on the ice at the skating rink they had all but exhausted their collective knowledge of Christmas carols, and had had several sips from the flask.
“That’s what I like, a woman who travels equipped. A flask full of cognac. Yep, you are crazy … but good crazy, definitely good crazy.” He sailed past her on the ice with a broad grin, intending to show off, and winding up instead on his ass.
“Mister, I think you’re drunk.”
“You ought to know, you’re my barman.” He grinned at her good-humoredly as he got up.
“Want some more?”
“No. I just joined A.A.”
“Party pooper.”
“Lush.”
They laughed at each other, sang “Deck the Halls,” and skated a few turns arm in arm. The rink was almost deserted, and the other skaters shared in the Christmas spirit. The piped music was merry and light, carols intermingled with waltzes. It was a beautiful night. And it was past eleven before they decided they’d had enough. Despite the cognac, their faces were numb from the cold.
“How about midnight mass at Saint Patrick’s? Or would that be a bad trip? You’re not Catholic, are you?”
“Nope. Episcopal, but I have nothing against Saint Patrick’s. Your mass isn’t that different from ours. I’d really enjoy it.” There was a moment of worry in her face, as she thought of missing a call from Luke. But the prospect of church appealed to her, and Alejandro swept her along. He suspected what she’d been thinking. And going home to sit by the phone would negate all they’d done. It was turning into a passable Christmas, and he wasn’t going to let her spoil it. Even for Luke.
They walked down a deserted Fifth Avenue, past all the ornate window dressings, the lights and the trees. It had a carnival air. Saint Patrick’s was jammed, hot, and smelled strongly of incense. They wedged their bodies in way at the back of the church; they could not approach the front pews, short of standing on shoulders and walking on heads. People had come from miles. Midnight mass at Saint Patrick’s was a tradition for many.
The organ was somber and majestic, the church dark except for the light shed by thousands of candles. It was a high mass, and one-thirty when they got out.
“Tired?” He held her arm as they made their way down the steps. The cold air was a shock after the scented warmth of the church.
“More like sleepy. I think it’s the incense.”
“Of course the cognac and the skating have nothing to do with it.” His eyes laughed at her, but kindly.
He hailed a cab, and the doorman at her place lurched his way to the door.
“Looks like he’s been having a good time.”
“So would you if you raked in as much money as he and the other guys do. They each get an envelope from everyone in the building.” She thought of what Alejandro must make at the center and cringed at the comparison. “Want to come up for a drink?”
“I shouldn’t….” He knew she was tired.
“But you will. Come on, Al, don’t be a drag.”
“Maybe I’ll just stay for a minute, and have a bite of the fruit salad.”
“Touch my wreath and you’ll regret it! And don’t say I didn’t warn you!” She brandished the nearly empty flask at him and he ducked. They giggled sleepily as they walked out of the elevator arm in arm. The apartment was warm and cozy and the tree looked pretty all lit up in the corner. She went out to the kitchen, as he sat down on the couch.
“Hey Kezia!”
“What?”
“Make that another hot chocolate!” He had had more than enough cognac, and so had she.
“I was.”
She came out with two steaming cups covered with rapidly dissolving marshmallows, and they sat side by side on the floor, looking up at the tree.
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Vidal.”
“Merry Christmas, Miss Saint Martin.” It was a solemn moment, and for what felt like a very long time neither spoke. Their thoughts were drifting separately to other people, other years, and in their own ways, they each found their minds wandering back to Luke and the present.
“You know what you ought to do, Alejandro?”
“What?” He had stretched out on the floor, his eyes closed, his heart warm. He was growing very fond of her and he was glad he had made a change of plans. This was turning into a beautiful Christmas. “What should I do?”
“Sleep on the couch. It seems stupid for you to go all the way uptown at this hour. I’ll give you some sheets and a blanket and you can stay here.” And then I won’t have to wake up in an empty house tomorrow morning, and we can giggle and laugh, and go for a walk in the park. Please, please stay … please….
“Wouldn’t it be a pain in the ass for you if I stay?”
“No. I�
�d love it.” The look in her eyes said she needed his presence there, and he didn’t know why, but he needed that too.
“Are you sure?”
“Very sure. And I know Lucas won’t mind.” She knew she could trust him, and it had been such a nice evening that now she desperately didn’t want to be alone. It was Christmas. It had finally dawned on her. Christmas: a time for families and friends and people you love. A time for children and big sloppy dogs to come lumbering into the house and play with the wrappings from the gifts that were being opened. Instead, she had sent Edward a set of colorless books for his library, and French place mats from Porthault to Aunt Hil, to add to the towering stack already in her London linen closets. And in turn, Hilary had sent her perfume, and a scarf from Hardy Amies, Edward had given her a bracelet that was too large and not her style. And Totie had sent her a hat that she’d knitted, that didn’t go with anything Kezia owned, and might possibly have fit her when she was ten. Totie had aged. Hadn’t they all? And the exchange of gifts had all been so meaningless this year, by mail, via stores, to people she owed by ritual and tradition, not really by heart. She was glad she and Alejandro had not tried to drum up gifts for each other that night. They had given each other something far better. Their friendship. And now she wanted him to stay. Aside from Luke, it suddenly felt as though he were her only friend.
“Will you stay?” She looked down at him lying on the floor beside where she sat.
“With pleasure.” He opened an eye, and held out a hand for one of hers. “You may be crazy, but you’re still a beautiful lady.”
“Thank you.”
She kissed him gently on the forehead, and went down the hall to get him some sheets. A few minutes later, she gently closed the door to the room with a last whispered “Merry Christmas,” which meant “thanks.”
Chapter 24
Kezia had been out shopping. She had stopped sitting in her apartment, just waiting for Luke. It had been driving her crazy. So she foraged around Bendel’s and wandered through the boutiques on Madison Avenue for an hour that afternoon, and when she opened the door, Luke’s suitcase was spilling its contents nervously across the floor, brush, comb, razor, rumpled shirts, sweaters lying about, two broken cigars tangled with a belt, and one shoe, whose mate was missing: Lucas was home.
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