by Susan Lyttek
I heard the door open. I could have heard a pin drop because everyone at the table kept quiet. I tried to encourage the amplification abilities of my ears.
“Hallo, darling.” The woman’s voice pulled it out to emphasize the word as if it had three syllables. I know, having spent the majority of my life in the South, that I have an accent. But she had a drawl. And not just any drawl. It sounded practiced and perfected. “I do hope we’re not too late for your little dinner.”
“No, Margo, not at all.” I heard some shuffling sounds, other movement. It was all I could do to keep from leaping out of my chair and heading into the hallway to watch them. “Did you say ‘we?’” Dad asked.
“But of course. My driver.” She giggled like a much younger woman. “I had to get here somehow. You do have somewhere we can put him while we eat, of course.”
The waiting had gotten too much for Justin. I admit it, the smells coming from the table made my stomach complain.
“Dad,” he begged, “they’re taking forever. Can’t you pray so we can start eating?”
James looked at me in desperation. If this were his home, it would have been no problem. But he didn’t want to be rude to my father or usurp his place. “Jeanine?”
“I’ll ask.” Taking a deep breath, I prepared myself to meet my mother’s replacement. Walk purposefully, I told myself. Be dignified. I strode through the living room and started into the hall.
Unfortunately, Dad has hardwood floors in the hallway. I say unfortunately, because my dog had been sitting in the hallway waiting for us to call him for treats. And if a dog is anticipating treats, any dog, he tends to salivate. My dog? He leaves drool puddles.
I hit a spot as slick as ice and slid about three feet towards Dad and his lady friend before my feet lost all semblance of traction, kicked up, and sent me to my backside.
It would have done the Three Stooges proud.
However, it did not seem to have that effect on Margo.
“What?” She huffed. She looked down at me over her nose.
I felt like a five-year-old back in mean Miss Anderson’s kindergarten class.
To his credit, Dad hurried over to me and helped me up. “Are you OK?”
I rubbed my sore spots as lady-like as I could. I found this difficult since those bruises tended to be focused on my posterior. “Yes, I suppose so.” I looked over my shoulder and pointed at the wet mark down the hallway. “I was ‘Jellied.’ Again. That’s twice in the same day.”
A chuckle burst out of Dad’s mouth, but then he gathered it back with a cough and swallowed it as quickly as he could. “Well, thank you, Jeanine, for finding the hazard for us.”
He went back to Margo, offered his arm and escorted her up to me. “Margo, this talented gymnast is my daughter, Jeanine Talbott.”
She nodded in my direction. “A pleasure.”
I had to admit, as much as I didn’t want to, that her face did resemble Mom’s. She had the same tiny mouth, beneath a fragile nose. Even her eyes were the same blue green. The color of the sea, Dad had always said. But her cheekbones had more of a chiseled appearance, more refined. Mom looked softer.
Or maybe my memories had her look that way. She had been my mother after all.
“I had come out to hasten you to dinner,” I admitted. “The kids are all a bit hungry and the food is getting cold.” I leaned in to my father and whispered to him that he should give Margo my place setting and that I’d bring out another one.
‘Well certainly,” Margo said. “I do apologize.” She looked up at Dad and smiled for all she was worth. “Lead the way, Robert.”
Dad escorted Margo to the dining room, deftly ignoring the pre-slicked areas of the floor. I began to follow them when I heard a slight knock. As I headed to the door, it opened and a man peered around the edge. Atop his head was a traditional white driving cap with dark black trim. I assumed he was Margo’s driver.
“Did you come here with Margo?”
“Yes. I drove her all the way from the coast. Wouldn’t want to trouble you any, but I’m a might thirsty after all that.”
The gentleman looked older than Dad did. What a difference a rank in society made! Dad, because of his years in the law profession, the money he made and the friends he helped, was Margo’s beau. Yet another man, equally hardworking and helpful, drove her places and served her. It didn’t set right with me.
“Come on into the kitchen, sir.”
“I don’t want to cause trouble.” Though he hadn’t moved, he seemed to pull away from me.
“No trouble at all, Mr...” I left a blank waiting for his name.
“No mister,” he said. “Just call me Charlie.” He took off his hat, held it in his hands and looked down on it.
“OK Charlie. I’m Jeanine." I pointed straight ahead. “Let’s get you some Thanksgiving.”
He pulled farther away. “Just a drink, ma’am. Miss Margo wouldn’t want me celebrating on the job.”
Then and there, I made up my mind. I rushed over to him and grabbed his elbow. “I am the hostess here, Charlie, and the one who cooked most of our meal. You’re going to sit in our nice warm kitchen with a cup of coffee and a plate of food. And if Margo complains, I’ll tell her I forced you.”
“Jeanine!” James called from the dining room. “Are you coming?”
“Pray and start eating!” I called back. “I’ll be there in just a minute.”
I led the still protesting Charlie into the kitchen, sat him down at the table, poured him a cup of my best coffee and then assembled a plate.
When I watched him bow his head over his food, I patted his hand.
For the first time that day, I felt good. Really good.
2
The rest of Thanksgiving...
The day went without a hitch. Periodically, I sent Josie or Justin in to see if Charlie needed anything else. Or I went myself.
Jelly, after begging persistently and slobbering on more than one leg under the big table, was relegated to the kitchen, too. I don’t think either Jelly or Charlie minded. I have a feeling Charlie fed Jelly more turkey than the dog needed. In return, Jelly loyally curled by his feet, only nudging the old man’s hand occasionally when a pet was overdue. I wouldn’t have to wager that the boot closest to the lovable dog benefitted from a personal drool polish.
In the dining room, we made appropriate small talk.
Margo absolutely beamed at anything Dad had to say or made comments like “You’re so witty, Robert!” or “I wish I had thought of that, Robert!” She threw his name around the room like a prized trophy, and he ate it up.
The kids didn’t seem to notice. In their usual Thanksgiving style, they ate plenty of their favorite foods and minimal amounts of the healthy ones. Then they camped by the TV in the guest room and argued about whether to watch a Christmas show or one of the football games. Sometimes, on commercial breaks, they’d come out to ask Charlie whatever question occurred to them. And then they’d argue about which question was more important. Since Margo didn’t pay much attention to them, they didn’t pay much attention to her.
At one point, Dad took her out to the workshop to show her his work on the shark. She must have lungs of steel, because she didn’t come back in coughing. Instead, she praised his progress.
“I can’t wait for it to hang in the welcome foyer at our estate. You do excellent work, Robert!” She giggled again. It sounded like a teenager’s giggle and just didn’t match her senior elegance. “But I shouldn’t expect anything else. After all, I chose you.”
That set badly with me. How could she choose my father like a piece of furniture?
Just about when we wanted to start grazing on the leftovers, Margo announced that it was time to leave.
“My daughter wants me to help her tackle the boutiques in the city tomorrow morning before we head back to the island.” She smiled expansively at all of us. “I have so enjoyed my time with your little family, Robert. And if we’re to be related someday, I thin
k it’s only fair that I return the favor. I would like to ask all of you to join us at the estate for Christmas.” She didn’t wait for us to reply. “Can you escort me to the door, Robert?” She waited for Dad’s elbow. Halfway to the door, she called back over her shoulder, “Charles! Departure!”
The tired driver rushed out of the kitchen, passed the couple in the hallway and opened the front door. “Yes, madam.”
Justin followed Charlie out of the kitchen, only moving slower. “I don’t like that woman, Mom.”
I didn’t respond right away, so he reacted as if he’d said the wrong thing.
“I mean, I know Papa thinks she’s great, but I just don’t see it. She doesn’t seem to like anyone but him.”
I ruffled his hair. “I wish I disagreed with you, sweetie. But your grandfather’s a good and godly man. He may very well see something that we’ve missed.”
My boy shrugged. “I guess.” After a moment, he added, “I liked Charlie a lot, though. Did you know he’s worked for the family his entire life?”
I steered him one hundred eighty degrees to face the kitchen again. “Tell me all about it while I fix you a plate of leftovers.”
****
Dad was in a fog after Margo left. He didn’t even watch the end of his game. He just pushed pieces of his pumpkin pie around on his plate, staring at either them or some vague point out the window. I knew he saw nothing but blackness of night. Or perhaps he saw Margo.
After everything in the kitchen was eaten, cleaned, or put away, I had no more energy. “I’m going to bed,” I announced in general.
Dad grabbed my arm as I walked by. “You do like her, don’t you, pumpkin?”
How did I avoid both lying and hurting his feelings? “I really don’t know her well yet.”
Like a dog with a bone, he persisted. “I think that’s why she invited us for Christmas. She really wants to spend time with you.”
I didn’t think so. I thought she wanted to spend time with my dad and convince him that his family would love her…and all the trappings her money would buy. But I didn’t say that. I loved my dad too much to hurt him. She might be different than I believed. For his sake, I had to give her more than one chance. I didn’t say anything to respond to his statement, I just hugged him. “Love you, Daddy.”
“Love you too, little one.”
On my way upstairs, I checked in the guestroom. The TV was on low volume because Josie was already asleep on the futon. Justin sat on the couch staring at the uniformed players running back and forth across the field. I covered up Josie, kissed her cheek and told Justin to turn off the game at 9:30.
“What if it’s not done?”
“Then you ask your Uncle Frank tomorrow for the play by play. He’ll have it memorized if it was worth anything and will tell you that you chose well if it wasn’t. You’ve had a long day. Lights out at 9:30.”
He began to think up some logical protest. I could see the gears working. I stifled it with a hug and a kiss. A bear hug and a Jelly-style kiss on his forehead.
“Mom!” he said wiping off his head. “It’s a holiday.”
“I love you, too. But it’s still 9:30.”
I made a move, pretending that I planned to kiss him again. He pushed away. He looked at me intently. I stared back.
“Oh, OK,” he muttered.
“Glad you see it my way.” I gave him another hug. A Justin-approved half hug. “See you in the morning.”
To get upstairs, I had to walk through the living room where the same game that Justin had on blared louder and bigger. At least I think it was the same game. When I walked through, Frank was on his feet yelling at some umpire.
James put an arm in front of me as I tried to pass him. “No passing without paying toll.”
He meant a kiss, so I obliged. However, a yawn made me pull away too soon. “Sorry.”
He smiled. “You’ve had a long day. The game’s almost over. I’ll be up soon.”
I gave him another quick kiss. “I hope so.”
Frank, finished with his tirade at the TV, noticed us. “Haven’t you two been married long enough to stop being so mushy?”
“Never,” James said.
I just smiled. And then I yawned again until my ears popped. Letting my hand slide over James’s, I pulled away and made for the stairs.
Josie had the right idea.
I tried to stay awake once I got in bed. I wanted to get James’s opinion on Margo and her Christmas announcement. This was the year, after all, that we were due to spend Christmas with his parents.
Nevertheless, it had been a long day. And with all that had been going on, I never had my afternoon coffee. I fell soundly asleep without ever being aware that I headed in that direction.
****
When I woke, I saw that James had been in bed because of the rumpled sheets next to me, but he wasn’t there any longer. I heard the vague sound of falling water and knew that he’d already claimed the shower. I looked at the clock. Eight o’clock! I hadn’t slept that long in years. I did some quick calculations. I slept over ten hours the previous night. Absolutely amazing. It must be the fresh mountain air.
Even so, I made sure to hurry out of bed, get dressed and get the bed made before James got back from his shower. There’s only so much lollygagging a body can do.
I had just finished tucking the comforter in when he opened the door.
“Well, if it isn’t my sleeping beauty!”
What does one say to that? I stepped up to him and kissed him. “You smell nice.”
“I forgot my aftershave so I used one of your dad’s.”
I laughed. “Probably one that I got him for Christmas that he never used. He still wears nothing but that old-fashioned cologne that Mom would buy him year after year. It’s so hard to find now that he pays three times what it is worth.”
James’s smile dropped. “Not yesterday he didn’t. I saw him putting on some expensive French stuff Margo bought him before she showed up. I know what it was because I commented on it and he told me.”
It felt wrong. What was happening to my dad? Was I just oversensitive because it wasn’t Mom? Or was there really something not quite right about this woman?
“Did you like her, James?”
He looked around the room, avoiding my eyes. “I don’t really think it’s my place, Neenie. I’m an in-law, not a direct relative like you or Frank.”
I sidled next to him. “I promise I won’t report you. But I need to know if I’m overreacting.”
He smoothed my hair. It popped out of place immediately, but it felt nice when he did it. “I don’t think you’re overreacting. If anything, wife of mine, you give more grace than most people deserve.” He did, too, which was probably why he paused so long before answering me. “Something about her didn’t set right with me. Maybe we’re jealous? I don’t know. But we owe it to your dad to give her a fair chance. I don’t see any way around it. I’ll explain the whole situation to my parents and we can make it up to them at Easter. We’ll go to her family’s island for Christmas.”
3
December 22
Thus, less than a month later, I found myself on a yacht.
I wish I could say it had been easy getting me here. I wish I could say that I had been calm, relaxed, and hopeful about the entire trip. I wish I could say that through our correspondences arranging details that I’d grown closer to Margo and was actually looking forward to a Christmas without my tree, a brisk winter wind, and the Christmas Eve pageant at Gentle Springs Community Church. I wish I could say all of that. However, it would be a bold-faced lie and my mother taught me better than that. Still, James kept reminding me that it would be like a summer vacation in the middle of winter, and I needed to enjoy it as best I could.
“We’ll be gone less than a week, Neenie,” James reminded me. “And we’ll have our Christmas, your Christmas, when we get home.”
I guess that was better than nothing.
We were headed to
a tiny, private island north of the official Caribbean. Of course, I wasn’t on the yacht alone. Justin, Josie, and James were with me.
Frank, too, had shown up with his latest girlfriend, a sweet thing in her mid-twenties named Aimee. I think she was the latest girlfriend Frank mentioned in his e-mail, so they’d dated more than just a couple of times. She made sure I knew how to spell her name—two E’s—and that Frank met her in the singles group at his church. Maybe she would finally be the one. I couldn’t remember Frank ever bringing a girlfriend on vacation, let alone to celebrate a holiday.
To Margo’s credit, she had even invited Jelly (along with his portable kennel and cleaning pads). When she heard that we intended to lodge him at a local kennel while we stayed with her, she protested.
“If you brought him to your father’s for Thanksgiving,” she texted me, “you should bring him along for Christmas.” She assured me that the island was technically not another country and therefore had no quarantine or kenneling restrictions.
We had originally planned to leave Gentle Springs on the twenty first and spend the night at a hotel, but James had to work at the last minute. While he put in a stressful and late day in order for us to have Christmas at all, I spent most of the day packing.
“It will be warm enough to swim?” Josie exulted.
“Probably.” I went on to show her on a map of the United States about where the island was. “The private island of the Banet family is too small to show up on most maps. But it’s between the US and the Bahamas. It doesn’t get cold there too often.” The kids were thrilled to put their swimming suits in the luggage.
The most difficult part of this trip preparation was finding and packing gifts. What do you get for the woman who lives on the family island, has a driver and relies on a yacht to go shopping? Also, we had no idea how many other guests might be there.
James, after watching me fret for a while, recommended I make massive quantities of my world-famous brownies. We bought several pretty plates, ribbons, colored plastic wrap and bows. While I knew the plates of goodies couldn’t compete with anything Margo might have, people would enjoy them, and we’d have something to give.