“What you want to do is study,” said Michael. “Get a degree. Make a start on a good career.”
“No,” Frank replied. “That’s what you want me to do. I might have other plans.”
“Like what?” Max asked with interest.
Frank shrugged. “I don’t know yet. That’s the whole point of taking a year off to find out.”
“To goof off and hang around with your friends, you mean.”
Eileen, seated at Michael’s right, reached across and placed her hand on top of her husband’s. Peg saw her squeeze his fingers gently. “Maybe we could save this discussion for another time. Christmas is a day to celebrate. To be thankful for our family and the things that we have and can share with others.”
“Hear, hear!” Michael said heartily. “As usual, Eileen, you are absolutely right.” He leaned across and kissed his wife’s cheek, prompting a ripple of embarrassment among the three young people at the table. Then Michael disengaged his hand from Eileen’s, picked up his glass, and raised it above his head.
“A toast!” he pronounced. “To family.”
Six more glasses lifted. “To family,” everyone echoed dutifully.
Max started to lower his glass. He paused and glanced at Peg uncertainly. She hoped he wasn’t about to do something he’d regret. Judging by the expression on his face, he was hoping the same thing.
“To bygones!” Max said, raising his glass again.
All hands came back up. Bob looked confused, but he gamely joined in. “To bygones!” nearly everyone repeated.
Though Michael lifted his glass, Peg noticed that he remained stonily silent for the toast. That didn’t stop him from taking a hefty swallow of wine along with the rest of the family.
“Speaking of family,” said Melanie, turning toward the empty seat at the end of the table. “This is our first Christmas without Nana. Somehow I keep expecting to look over and see her sitting there with us.”
“Me too,” Frank agreed.
Abruptly Eileen’s eyes darted toward her husband. She was looking for something . . . but what? Peg had no idea. Then as quickly as Eileen had sought Michael’s gaze, she glanced away again. Peg wondered if she’d imagined that brief shimmer of tension between them.
“To Nana!” Melanie cried.
The girl’s thoughtful salute was a well-meant idea. Everyone at the table should have simply raised their glasses in remembrance. But Peg saw in an instant that that wasn’t how things were going to go.
Max had loved his mother dearly. But he’d also harbored a great deal of resentment over Nana’s interference in his love life. Those feelings were only exacerbated when she’d later pushed him aside and turned to Michael for guidance and support. In the year since his mother’s death, Max had worked to set aside his bitterness about the way Nana had allowed their relationship to deteriorate. But now, seeing the mocking smile on Michael’s face as he turned to his younger brother and lifted his glass in salute, Peg felt Max stiffen beside her.
“To Nana!” Michael’s voice was overloud. He rose to his feet and looked down upon them. “A wonderful mother who was most discerning about the people she kept around her.”
Peg sucked in an annoyed breath. Michael was turning the blade deliberately. Of course, the insult was intended to strike out at her, too. That part she could brush aside. She’d been doing it for years. But she wasn’t about to stand by and let Michael run roughshod over her husband’s feelings.
Before she could say anything, however, Frank spoke up. The teenager appeared to be oblivious to the undercurrents that eddied in the air around them.
“To the best grandmother ever!” Frank seconded.
Max had been staring down at the creamy linen tablecloth. Now, his movements slow and deliberate, he lifted his glass along with the rest. “To Nana,” he said softly. “I hope she knows how much we truly miss her.”
“Some of us more than—” Michael began.
Eileen didn’t let him finish. Instead she grasped her husband’s arm and pulled sharply downward, guiding him back to his seat. “Wonderful toast, dear. I know we all share your heartfelt sentiments.” Eileen paused to look around the table, her gaze resting on each face in turn as if daring them to contradict her. “Don’t we?”
Frank and Melanie nodded together. Their mother had them well trained.
“Yes, ma’am,” Bob said dutifully. He hadn’t a clue what was going on.
Determined to smooth over the awkward moment, Eileen left a warning hand on Michael’s arm as she turned and smiled down the table at her guests. From past experience, she knew the one topic that was sure to immediately engage her in-laws’ interest.
“Speaking of Nana,” she said to Peg, “did you know that she had a very good friend who competes in dog training like you do? Her name is Imelda Grissom. I wonder if you might know her.”
“Dog shows,” Peg corrected automatically. Then she stopped and thought about what Eileen had said. It was probably the first interesting thing she’d heard all day. “Imelda? Of course, I know Imelda.”
That part was easy. Peg had devoted a large part of her life to her beloved Standard Poodles and to the dog show world. She knew everybody. “Imelda has Cavaliers.”
Frank looked up. “She has what? Is that some kind of disease?”
“Cavs,” Max informed the teen. His shoulders began to relax. “Otherwise known as Cavalier King Charles Spaniels. It’s a breed of dog. They’re quite charming, actually.”
“Charming.” Melanie sputtered a laugh. “A dog.”
“Don’t knock it till you try it,” said Max. “You might be surprised by how lovable dogs can be. There are more than a hundred different breeds, one to suit every different job and owner personality.”
“Not mine,” Eileen replied. “All that dog hair and mess in the house? No, thank you.”
“We know all about the different breeds,” Frank said authoritatively.
Melanie nodded in agreement. “We watched Westminster on TV one year.”
“We knew it was something that you and Peg were obsessed by,” Eileen told Max. “So we watched to see what it was all about. We were trying to figure out the appeal.”
“Oh?” Peg asked drily. “And did you?”
“No.” Michael’s tone was condescending. “It all looked rather silly to me. I have no idea how anyone could call something like that a sport.”
“A bunch of froufrou dogs dancing around a big ring,” Frank chortled. “And those silly looking Poodles . . . they were the worst!”
Eileen gasped. In the moment of horrified silence that followed, she looked as though she would have liked to disavow her entire family. Either that or slink beneath the table out of sight.
“What?” Frank asked, swiveling his head from side to side. “What’s the matter? What did I say?”
“As it happens, Peg and I have Poodles,” Max informed him. “Standard Poodles. The big ones. That’s our breed.”
“Oh.” Frank gulped. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his neck. “I’m sure they’re very nice.”
“They are indeed,” Peg agreed easily, deciding not to take offense. Seriously, did every aspect of this conversation have to be a minefield? “We have a very good dog right now named Champion Cedar Crest Target Sighted. We call him Targa. He’s one of the favorites to win the variety at Westminster next year.”
“So if you watch the show in February,” said Max, “you might see him in the Non-Sporting Group ring with Peg handling. I can let you know the day and time, if you like.”
“Don’t go to any trouble on our account,” said Michael. “I’m sure we’ll be too busy to tune in for something like that.”
Eileen forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. “But you’ll have to let us know afterward how it all turned out,” she said to Max in a conciliatory tone. “You can do that, can’t you?”
“Of course,” Peg agreed.
When pigs fly, she thought to herself.
&nbs
p; Eileen and Melanie hopped up to clear the plates and serve coffee. Bob was conscripted to help. By the time everyone was seated once again at the table, the conversation had thankfully moved on. Melanie chatted about her studies. Frank, who was saving to buy himself a car, gave a detailed accounting of the makes and models he was considering. Bob added little, but managed to look politely interested in everything that was said.
In the annals of Christmas dinners she had known, Peg thought with an inward sigh, this was certainly going to go down as one of the worst. At least, mercifully, it was almost over. But that didn’t stop her thoughts from returning to the question that had been nagging at her since the invitation had originally been extended.
Why had she and Max been invited to the holiday gathering? If, as Max had hoped, the occasion was meant to mend the long-standing family rift, Peg certainly hadn’t seen any evidence of it. In fact, quite the opposite. Throughout the day Michael had treated Max and Peg with an air of careless disregard that bordered on disdain. Peg hadn’t seen a single honest attempt to engage with his brother at all.
She looked around the lovely room and saw no genuine warmth or even holiday spirit among the assembled family group. Rather it seemed as though they were all—herself included—performing their roles like actors in a poorly written play. The only attractive thing about the whole occasion was the elaborate stage on which they’d all been brought together. The setting featured polished silver and gleaming crystal. They’d been served premium scotch and an expensive wine with dinner. Beyond the dining table stood an antique sideboard with a very good painting hanging over it.
Peg considered all that for a moment. She remembered the question she’d asked earlier when she and Max were approaching the house. Once again she found herself wondering how such an opulent display was within the means of a family whose finances were as precarious as she’d been led to believe. Clearly her in-laws had spared no expense in the staging of this Christmas celebration . . . but to what end?
As her gaze drifted aimlessly around the room once more, it came to rest on her brother-in-law. Seated at the head of the table, Michael was presiding over the gathering with all the hauteur and pompous arrogance of a banana-republic overlord intent on flaunting his dubious power and prestige.
Family resemblance or not, Peg thought, Max’s brother was a nitwit.
Then abruptly she frowned as bits and pieces of disparate ideas began to tumble into place and form a more coherent picture. Finally something began to make sense. All at once, Peg was pretty sure she had the answer she’d been looking for.
Reconnecting with the conversation, Peg discovered that Bob was regaling the occupants of the table with a listing of the finer points of some arcane accounting system. Everyone was doing their best to feign interest in the topic. Delighted that they were otherwise occupied, Peg slid her foot sideways and kicked Max under the table.
He jumped slightly in his seat, then glanced her way.
“I get it now,” Peg whispered.
“You get what?” Her husband scooted his chair slightly closer. His low tone matched her own.
“I know why Michael invited us today. It wasn’t to mend bridges, it was to gloat. He wants you to see how well he’s doing, even though you got the lion’s share of Nana’s money.”
“Shhh!” Max turned and glanced quickly around the table. Thankfully no one was paying any attention to them. “For once, give that inquiring mind of yours a day off. It’s Christmas, and it’s enough that the family is together. We don’t need to analyze everybody’s motives. Can’t we just relax and enjoy our holiday dinner?”
Peg lifted a brow eloquently. Enjoying themselves? Was that was they were doing? She didn’t even have to say the words aloud.
“You know what my brother is like,” said Max. “He’s the quintessential oldest child. He always has to be the center of attention. That’s all this day is about.”
“No, it’s more than that—”
“Leave it alone, Peg. Please?”
“But—”
“Now is not the time,” Max said firmly.
He was right. Even Peg had to admit that. But something odd was going on with her husband’s family. The more she thought about it, the more certain she was. Whether Max wanted to admit it or not.
With Peg on her best behavior, the rest of the afternoon unfolded uneventfully. Scarcely an hour passed before she and Max were finally able to make their escape.
Michael and Eileen walked them to the door. “I’m glad you could join us for our impromptu little gathering,” Michael said as he showed them out.
Impromptu, my foot, Peg snorted. She’d been to formal weddings that weren’t this well-orchestrated. Nevertheless, she hugged Eileen, thanked her for the lovely meal, and managed to keep the rest of her thoughts to herself as she and Max walked down the steps and climbed into their car.
Together they coasted down the length of the driveway in silence. It wasn’t until Max had turned back out onto Oenoke Ridge—neutral territory, as it were—that Peg’s shoulders rose and fell as she blew out a long breath. Beside her, Max finally spoke.
“That was interesting,” he said.
The two of them looked at each other across the car’s front seat. Both burst out laughing at the same time. Peg was positively giddy with relief that the visit was finally over. It looked as though Max felt the same way.
“Oh my God,” Peg said on another exhale. Suddenly she felt as though she’d been holding her breath for hours. “That was terrible! What is wrong with those people?”
“Don’t ask me.” Max shifted his eyes away from the road and shook his head innocently. “How would I know? They’re only my family.” He tried to swallow his next laugh. Instead it escaped as a loud guffaw.
“I think that was the longest afternoon of my life,” Peg said as they navigated back through downtown New Canaan.
“At least we were able to escape,” Max pointed out. “The one I feel sorry for is Bob. That poor boy has no idea what he’s getting into.”
“I wouldn’t worry about him. From what I could see, he and Melanie make a terrible couple. That will never last.”
“He seems to think it will. I gather the announcement of an engagement might not be far off.”
“Oh my,” Peg muttered under her breath. It was a good thing the young couple didn’t care about her opinion. “That’s a mistake.”
She and Max were once more on the Merritt Parkway and halfway home to Greenwich when Peg again broached the subject that had been bothering her all day. “How does Michael afford all that?” she wondered aloud.
“That’s the second time you’ve asked me that.”
“Because I really want to know. Your brother made hash of his career, and he squandered his inheritance. And based on past performance, I’m willing to bet that whatever job is keeping him busy now isn’t nearly lucrative enough to support that kind of lifestyle.”
Max pondered for a moment before answering. “On the one hand, I’m inclined to agree with you,” he said finally.
“And on the other?”
“How and where Michael makes his money is none of my business.”
“You can’t tell me you’re not curious.”
“I don’t have to be curious,” Max replied. “You’ve always had enough curiosity for the both of us.”
“But Michael’s your family—”
“Precisely. And as uncomfortable as today may have been, I’m still determined to look at his invitation as a step in the right direction.”
“Pish,” Peg said stubbornly. “I’m convinced that Michael only invited us so that he could rub your nose in his success.”
“That’s your opinion.” Max’s tone was mild. “It doesn’t have to be mine.”
“You’re not going to let me get all worked up about this, are you?”
“Not if I can help it.”
Peg sighed. “Sometimes I think you’re just too nice a person.”
M
ax gazed at his wife across the seat. “I thought that was why you married me.”
“Because you were nice? Heaven forbid. I married you because you were hot.”
“Hot?” Max sounded pleased.
“You still are, for that matter.”
“I’m glad to hear that I haven’t lost my touch.”
“And you liked dogs,” Peg said loftily. “That was a big plus.”
“I’ll bet.”
“Your family,” she mentioned, “was not an added inducement.”
“No,” Max agreed. “They wouldn’t have been.”
They’d talked their way around in a circle. Max and Peg completed the rest of the drive in a companionable silence. As they approached their house, Peg gazed at the lighted windows. After a moment, two black Poodle heads popped up into view. Two black noses pressed against the cold glass. Peg couldn’t see the dogs’ tails, but she knew that they were wagging madly.
The canine welcoming committee was in place.
“I’m glad that’s over with,” Max said as he pulled into the garage.
But was it? Peg wondered. She wasn’t so sure.
The unanswered questions nagged at Peg over the next week. She knew that Max wanted her to leave things alone. He’d certainly told her as much. But leaving things alone was not Peg’s style. Indeed, it could probably be said that she’d never left anything alone in her entire life.
And it was a life rather well lived.
No need to change her strategy now, Peg decided.
Just after the New Year, she called Imelda Grissom. The dog show community wasn’t that large. At least it didn’t seem that way to Peg, who’d been an integral part of it for years. She and Imelda competed at most of the same shows, they belonged to a common kennel club, they’d even served together on a committee or two. So it wasn’t difficult for Peg to inveigle an invitation to drop by Nana’s friend’s house on a gray, overcast January afternoon while Max was at work.
What her husband didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, she thought. And anyway, maybe her suspicions would prove to be wrong. If that were the case, Max need never know that she’d disregarded his advice. And if she was right . . . well, she would cross that unfortunate bridge when she came to it.
A Christmas Howl Page 3