The Book of Jane

by Anne Dayton

  I look at them all standing there, wearing their little brown uniforms, solemnly holding three fingers up and reciting the words to the Girl Scout pledge. They look so serious. Even Bella is wearing her full uniform, including sock tassels, for this momentous occasion. The crowd is made up entirely of proud parents and a few beaming grandparents, and they clap politely as the girls all swear to live by the Girl Scout Law. I may not be the leader of Troop 192, but I was invited, I am told, at the request of the girls, who insisted I be there for their big day. And since Raquel is the only one who has led a bridging ceremony—or in civilian terms, Brownie graduation—before, she was asked to officiate, so I don’t feel completely out of place. This whole ceremony is totally dorky, but the girls seem to be loving it.

  “I’d like to welcome you all,” Raquel says, turning to the parents, “to the final meeting of Brownie Troop One-ninety-two.” They clap politely. Little Robinson sleeps soundly in Jack’s lap. “As many of you know, the bridging ceremony is a long and hallowed tradition in the history of Girl Scouting,” she announces, flicking her eyes down to her note card. “It is a celebration of all that we’ve learned in the past year, and a way to look forward to where we will go next.” Eleanor Pearson, sitting in the front row, wipes away a tear.

  “And this is a very important day for our accomplished girls. This has been an exciting year, and we’d like to share with you a few of the things we’ve learned.” She nods at Kaitlin, who steps forward confidently and explains to the audience how we studied the forest and lakes on our campout, and then points to her Outdoor Adventurer badge on her uniform vest. Bella steps forward next. She explains our recent experiments with static electricity and shows us her Science Wonders patch. I smile as the girls talk about their achievements. Abby only stumbles over her words a few times as she explains how they learned about math by keeping track of the hundreds of boxes of cookies they sold this year. It feels good to see them happy in what they have done.

  Haven steps forward, and I take a deep breath. Raquel told me that while they were practicing, Haven had always stridently refused to recite the paragraph assigned to her about their Sounds of Music badges. Whenever it was her turn to practice, she launched into a heartfelt rendition of Oops I Did It Again, which the other girls found continually uproarious. But today she steps forward solemnly and recites, word for word, how we listened to and learned about music from all over the world. The parents clap appreciatively, and the girls beam.

  Then they turn and walk slowly, just as they practiced, to the base of a little wooden bridge. It is just a simple wooden structure with a small platform and railing, but the girls are looking at it with as much awe and excitement as if it were the pathway to Tommy Drake’s heart. Raquel stands on the other end of the bridge and waits until they are all lined up.

  Raquel nods at Kaitlin, who is the oldest and consequently always the first in line. She steps onto the platform uncertainly and walks across the bridge. When she steps down on the other side, the crowd erupts in applause and Raquel pokes the little golden wings into her vest that signify she has “flown up” to Juniors, the next level in the Girl Scout hierarchy. One by one, while the parents record every second on their digital cameras, the girls march across the bridge. Abby holds her head up proudly as Raquel pins the wings onto her little vest.

  “Now will you please join me,” Raquel says, turning to the parents, “in congratulating the girls on their achievements and welcoming the newest members of Junior Troop One-ninety-two?”

  The parents stand up and cheer for the girls, and even though I catch Margaret Ann elbowing Abby’s dad out of the way for a good camera shot, my heart soars. The parents have hurt me, but these girls have worked hard.

  And then I hear Haven singing. I cringe. Couldn’t she hold off on Britney’s Greatest Hits just a few more minutes? Just until the ceremony formally ends? I stifle a groan as Bella joins in, but then I pause. I know that song. They can’t really be singing it voluntarily. They told me it was dorky. I turn and stare. Haven puts her arms around Kaitlin’s shoulders, and the other girls catch on and do the same. This can’t be happening.

  But sure enough, I watch in shock as Bella slides her arm around Abby’s shoulder. “Make new friends,” they sing out, swaying back and forth, “but keep the old.” I am stunned. They don’t even know any cool dance moves to this song. But there they are, singing their little hearts out, as if one thing, if nothing else, has actually sunk in this year. “One is silver and the other’s gold.” They start the song over, Bella and Kaitlin singing their own ear-splitting version of harmony this time, as we all stand, watching in confused but pleased silence.

  I am so shocked and proud of them I don’t even notice Raquel until she is standing right in front of me.

  “Thanks, friend,” she says quietly, as the girls sway to their own music in front of us. I know from experience that it’s only a matter of time before they sway so much they all end up in a pile on the floor, but for now, I decide to just enjoy the moment.

  “Lee, are you sure these lights are okay to use outdoors?” I ask, straining to read the fine print on the box in the dark night without letting the wool blanket fall from my shoulders.

  “They’ll be fine, Jane,” Lee laughs, draping a strand of white Christmas lights over the top of my lounge chair. “Now help me with these. I want them to look like icicles.” He is wearing a hat and gloves and a big down coat, but he still has my cashmere throw wrapped around his shoulders for extra warmth.

  “If we stay out here much longer, we’re going to look like icicles,” I say, grabbing the strand he’s holding out to me.

  “Now, Jane, where’s your Christmas spirit?” He pulls the lights up the railing at the edge of the patio and beings to drape them from the top.

  “Right now?” I ask, looking at him. “It’s probably halfway to Charleston by now.”

  Lee looks up at me. He drops the lights and comes over to me, wrapping me in a big hug. “Oh, honey,” he says. “I’m sorry.” He pulls back and looks at me. I look away quickly before I start to cry. “But you’re moving too, right?”

  I nod. “But I’m just moving to the Upper East Side. Not to a whole different state.” I pout.

  “Jane, thank you for caring.” He sits down on the edge of the lounger. “It means a lot to me. But you know this is something I have to do.”

  “I know.” I nod. “I just wish you could wait until after Christmas to move all your stuff out,” I sigh. “It feels so sudden. So final.”

  “I know,” Lee says, shaking his head. “It’s all kind of fast for me too.” He grins at me. “I just don’t know how I’ll ever get all my shoes packed up in time.” I roll my eyes. “But the broker says I can list my apartment now and sell it from down there, so I don’t see any reason to wait. And I can’t stay here for Christmas,” he says sadly. “I need to be with my family for the holidays this year.”

  I nod. I know this is the right thing for Lee, but that doesn’t make it any easier to see him go. My New York family is breaking up. I listed my apartment with a broker just this afternoon, and since everything was just redone after the flood, he thinks I’m going to be able to get much more for it than I paid. Still, as I signed the forms, I knew I was ending a chapter of my life I could never revisit. I had some good times in this apartment. It isn’t easy to say good-bye.

  “I’m sure going to miss this place,” Lee says, looking around at my little patio, blessedly peaceful on this quiet winter night.

  “You’ll have a huge porch.” I sit down on the other lounger, pulling the blanket tight around me in a futile attempt to keep out the cold night air.

  “But it won’t have my favorite neighbor to keep me company.”

  “That’s what you think,” I laugh. “You’d better believe I’m coming down to visit you and sit on your veranda and drink sweet tea.”

  “Jane, you don’t know the first thing about the South,” he laughs, shaking his head. “All tea is swe
et. I have so much to teach you.” He stands up and grabs the strand of lights. He finds the end, plugging it into the outlet on the wall. The lights flick on, bathing the patio in a soft glow.

  “You’ve already taught me so much,” I say softly as I lean back in my chair and look up at the clear night sky.

  Chapter 27

  How long do they keep this thing up?” Raquel asks, nodding at the famous Christmas tree in Rockefeller Center. I take a sip of my delectable Dean DeLuca hot chocolate and shrug.

  “I guess until after New Year’s probably,” I say. With only a few days left until Christmas, it looks magical, lit from top to bottom with white lights and colorful glass ornaments. Below it, ice-skaters race around the rink, enjoying the crisp night air.

  “I suppose after you chop down a two-hundred-year-old tree, you’d better enjoy it for as long as you can,” she laughs. I nod, remembering ice-skating with the Brownies. I am sure going to miss those girls. “So how did the meet-the-parents weekend go?”

  “Oh, you know,” I say, taking another sip of my drink. “At first they were a little standoffish, because, you know, he’s not Ty, so that’s a major strike against him.” Coates left for Italy yesterday, where the Glassman clan always spends Christmas in their villa, so we celebrated early and took a trip to my house so my parents could meet him. “But Coates brought my mom flowers and a bottle of single-malt Scotch for my dad, so they melted.”

  “They liked him, then?”

  “Loved him. Thankfully Jim was away with the Lovells at their house in Aspen, so he wasn’t there to bring out the embarrassing baby pictures. But Coates and my dad talked about mutual funds for hours. And my mom kept bringing him cookies and refilling his glass and making sure he was comfortable. And he asked for seconds on the roast for dinner, and when he asked for her recipe, I thought she was honestly going to swoon.”

  “Sounds like it went well.”

  “A little too well, I think. Mom kept mentioning how Jim is finally settling down and hinting that she would like me to do the same. She mentioned how much she loves weddings probably a dozen times. Coates was totally great and played along with her insanity, but it was pretty mortifying. When she casually mentioned how much I used to love the little house we used to rent on the Cape and that she’d always hoped I would get married there, I cut her off.”

  Raquel laughs. “Did he like the cuff links?” She rests her arms on the handrail.

  “He gave a good show if he didn’t. I’ll bet it’s the only pair of cuff links with a pizza on them he’s ever seen.”

  “And what did he get you? Something fabulous, I bet.”

  I bite my lip and lean over the railing. “He got me a Palm Pilot.”

  “No.” Her eyebrows rise, and her mouth falls open. “He knows better than that. What was he thinking?”

  I shrug.

  “That thing is OCD in a box. You’re a goner. You can program in every number you’re ever going to need. The calendar functions are amazing. You can plan out the next ten years of your life on there. And I thought we’d just weaned you off of schedules.”

  “He said I’m finally ready for it,” I laugh.

  “You don’t give crack to a recovering addict.” She shakes her head.

  “It’s hardly the same as crack, Raquel. I think you’re being a little dramatic.”

  “Am I?” She stands up and looks at me. “I don’t know.” She takes a deep breath. “You’ve changed a lot in the past few months, Jane.”

  “I know. I had a streak of bad luck and flipped out, but I’ve been better for a while,” I smile.

  “No, that’s not what I mean.” She pauses. “You’ve, I don’t know, mellowed out.” She takes a sip and stares out at the ice.

  “So I’m a little calmer. Big deal.”

  “I used to think you had it all. And I still do, but in a different way.”

  “Then you’re delusional.”

  “I don’t know,” she sighs. “I guess what I’m trying to say is that you were really down and out. But even when you were falling apart, there were some things you never let go of.”

  “My grasp on reality, for one.”

  “No.” She shakes her head. “You totally lost that. I mean, things that really mattered. The people you cared about. Your…attitude, I guess. It’s just funny to see how God works.” I watch her.

  “I guess when everything I thought I wanted was gone, I saw what it was I really needed.”

  “You learned to let go.” She looks away.

  “I guess, in a way, I did.” I nod. “There are things I’m never going to be able to control, but God can.”

  Raquel looks thoughtful. “And you honestly believe you’re not going to rely on your calendar to control your life anymore?”

  “I suppose that remains to be seen,” I laugh. “Anyway, are you ready to head back? I’ve got my shopping done.”

  “No way, Jane,” Raquel says seriously. “The babysitter’s free until six. We’re not heading back one second earlier.” I can’t help but laugh. Moms really do need a break now and then. I don’t know how they do it. “Let’s go get our nails done or something.”

  “Fine,” I say, standing up straight. “I don’t have anything else on my calendar all day.”

  Coates is going to be here in ten minutes, and I have no idea what I am supposed to wear. I panic, surveying the piles of clothes littering my bedroom floor. I got so desperate I even tried on my graduation gown, as if that might be appropriate.

  New Year’s Eve and I are not friends. Everyone always makes a big deal about it, and I’ve never had a good one. Last year Ty and I got into a fight about time zones. The highlight might have been the year a sparkler set my hair on fire. Needless to say, I was planning to just hide from it all this year. But Coates just got back in from Italy and said he had tickets to a fund-raiser and wouldn’t take no for an answer. I have prepared myself for a frustrating evening, and so far my closet is obliging.

  I hear a knock on my door, throw on the black Valentino, pray it’s appropriate, and walk out.

  “So what’s your weird fascination with the Four Seasons?” I ask as the bellhop opens the door for us. So far this night may change my relationship with New Year’s. When Coates picked me up in a limousine, I was only vaguely surprised, and extremely pleased that he looks as good in a tuxedo as I remembered. And when we went on a tour of the city by limo, I felt as if I had died and gone to heaven. There is an electricity about New York, a sensation of excitement in the air tonight. Though we steered clear of Times Square, where the infamous ball will drop in just a few hours while the world watches, we saw people out everywhere, enjoying the evening, trying to savor every last moment of the dying year. A mighty good year despite it all, I realize as we walk through the opulent hotel lobby. I nod at Cal the concierge as we walk through the cavernous room and marvel at how different this is from when I first tried to check in here.

  “My father owns a lot of stock in the hotel group that owns it.” He shrugs. “Being a major shareholder comes with a lot of benefits.”

  “Oh,” I say, realization sinking in. “Like free hotel rooms?” We step into the empty elevator, and Coates pushes the button for the penthouse.

  “You didn’t really think I paid for that room, did you?” His eyes widen at the thought.

  “Um, no,” I laugh. “I mean, I don’t know.”

  Coates shakes his head. “Oh Jane,” he laughs. “You’re amazing, but I would never pay fifteen hundred dollars a night for a hotel room for you.”

  “Hey!” I don’t know whether I should be offended or relieved, but as I look at his face, I realize he’s joking, so I just smile. The elevator doors slide open, and the sight in front of me takes my breath away. The wall straight ahead is one vast window, providing a breathtaking view of the twinkling lights of Manhattan. The ballroom is filled with round tables drenched in elegant flowers and white tea lights. Each place is set with more silverware than I’ll ever own. A gran
d piano in the corner fills the room with soft music, and the beautiful people milling around are dressed to the nines. I silently thank God for the Valentino. I’ve been to nice parties before, but this is breathtaking.

  Coates takes my arm and leads me through the room, smiling at a few people as we go.

  “Coates, this place is amazing.”

  “See that white-hair over there?” he whispers, nodding at a small woman wrapped in a fur stole. “Watch out for her. She bathes in Chanel Number Five. You’ll smell like it for a week if you get near her.”

  “Noted.” I file away the image of the small woman for reference. “What’s this benefit for, anyway?”

  “The Glassman Foundation.”

  “The what?”

  “Would you like something to drink?” Coates gestures to the bar set up along the back wall, and I nod, too stunned to do anything else.

  Coates manages to drag me to the dance floor after an exquisite six-course dinner. While I was talking to the editor of The New York Times business section, who was seated on my right, Coates was busy entertaining the young head of a major hedge fund, seated to his left. Now, swaying to Sinatra, I rest my head on his shoulder and drink in the night. I watch the lights spinning around us and the people chatting comfortably.

  What am I doing here? Can I ever really fit into this world?

  “I’m impressed, Jane,” Coates finally says, waking me from my trance.

  “I told you I was a decent dancer,” I say, pulling back and looking him in the eye.

  “Not about your dancing,” he laughs. “Though you are nimble.” He raises his arm, and I twirl underneath it.

  “About what, then?” I laugh. “I haven’t even shown you my gymnastics routine yet.”

  “I’m impressed because you haven’t been obsessively using the calendar I gave you.”

  “How do you know?” I ask, putting my hands back on his shoulders.