“It’s okay. She wasn’t too bad. Just a little sick.” It was pathetic that that was his definition of “not too bad.” They had both seen her much worse. Chris wanted to take another bath, to scrub his insides and his mind, and all the memories from Ian’s memory too. But he knew he couldn’t do that. And one day Ian would have to sort it all out for himself. It was the legacy she had left him. They had been to hell and back with her. Chris turned and saw Francesca then for the first time. He hadn’t even noticed her when he walked into the room. He smiled at her and saw how upset she was too. It had been a horrifying scene, and it only got worse after she left.
“Thank you for bringing Ian home.” He sat down at the kitchen table, and Francesca sat down next to him and looked into his eyes.
“It’s okay, Chris. You’re both going to be fine.” She smiled at Ian then, and he cuddled up next to her, and she took him in her arms. “Well, that was a little bit of excitement.” She smiled at Ian, and he laughed, and they all slowly began to unwind.
Marya made them something to eat, and then she and Ian showed Chris and Francesca all the Christmas decorations they’d made over the weekend. The little tree looked beautiful, and Ian looked proud. And little by little the nightmare they’d just been through began to slip from their minds. It could have been much worse.
“Why don’t we all go up to Vermont next weekend?” Marya suggested. “It’s probably going to be our last chance, and it would be fun to be there together.” Francesca loved the idea. It was where their life as a couple began. Ian loved the idea too, and even Chris smiled.
It wasn’t until late that afternoon that Chris had a moment alone with Francesca in her room.
“I’m sorry you had to see that. It’s not a pretty part of my life.” He was as ashamed as though he had done it. He was more ashamed at what he had almost done to his ex-wife.
“It’s not your fault,” she said quietly, and put her arms around him. “I’m glad I was there.”
“So am I.” He might have been even crazier if she weren’t.
He kissed her, and felt as though he were being lifted out of the past. With her, it was a whole new life. Kim was the nightmare, and Francesca was the dream.
As Marya had suggested, they all went to Vermont that weekend, and they all had a good time. They played in the snow, went for long walks, and took photographs of each other. They went to local restaurants and taverns. Chris took Ian to a nearby ski resort early Sunday morning, rented skis, and took a few runs with him. They all wanted to cling to every minute. They didn’t know when they’d be together again. Charles-Edouard decided it for them.
“You’re all coming to the South of France next summer. Marya and I are going to rent a villa. In July. We want the three of you to come over.” Ian clapped his hands and looked thrilled, and Chris and Francesca agreed. Marya and Charles-Edouard were coming to Vermont in August, so they would see them again then. This wasn’t the last chapter in their friendship. It was just the beginning. They were all starting new lives now. Chris had told Ian that morning that he was moving upstairs with Francesca, and Ian was going to have his own room from then on.
“That’s good,” Ian said solemnly, “’cause you snore.” Francesca laughed when he said it.
“Now you tell me,” she said, but she was relieved that Ian wasn’t upset.
They sang Christmas carols in French and English on the ride back to New York, and Marya had given them the keys to the house in Vermont and told them to use it whenever they wanted. It was going to be wonderful for them.
Ian fell asleep on the drive home. And Chris carried him in when they got back. He stirred for a minute and looked at his father as though he had something important to tell him.
“Can we get a dog?”
Chris laughed. “Sure. What kind of dog?”
“A Great Dane,” Ian said with a sleepy smile.
“Forget it. Maybe a dachshund, or a Lab.” Ian nodded and went back to sleep in his father’s arms. And a minute later he put Ian on the top bunk and covered him with a blanket, and then he walked upstairs to see Francesca. She was unpacking from the weekend in Vermont, and she turned and smiled when he walked in. He couldn’t believe his good luck in having found her. And she felt the same way about him.
“Can I sleep here tonight? My bunk mate is dead to the world.”
“Sure.” She liked the idea too. It had been nice sharing a room with him all weekend, and hard to be apart once they got home.
He lay in bed, watching her undress and put on her nightgown. He could hardly wait to watch her do that every night.
“I’m really going to miss Marya,” she said sadly, as she got into bed next to him. He slept in his T-shirt and boxers. His socks were on the floor with his jeans and shirt. He was already at home in her bed.
“We’ll see them in Europe next summer. That’ll be fun.” She nodded. And they were both excited to use the house in Vermont. It was an incredibly generous gift to them. They were very special friends.
“Do you think they’ll get married?” Francesca asked him as they lay in the dark in her bed. She loved having him there next to her, and waking up with him in the morning.
“Probably. They act like they already are.” Francesca was looking forward to getting to that point with Chris. They weren’t there quite yet. In some ways it was going to be good for them to have the house to themselves, although they would all miss Marya and Charles-Edouard.
“Goodnight,” Francesca whispered to Chris, as she cuddled up next to him and drifted off to sleep. Chris smiled at her, and lay looking at her for a long time. And then he drifted off too and held her in his arms all night.
Chapter 22
MARYA AND CHARLES-Edouard’s last week in New York was totally chaotic. Francesca helped her pack. They were sorting everything and shipping things everywhere, to Paris, and to Vermont. She gave most of her cooking utensils to Francesca, and threw a lot of things out.
“It’s amazing what you can collect in a studio apartment in one year,” Marya said, looking around. There were boxes everywhere, and even a stack of things for Goodwill. They’d been packing for days. And Francesca’s mother came to say goodbye to her too. She was flying to Zurich in two days on her way to Gstaad.
“I’ll call you in Paris the next time I’m there,” she promised. “And don’t invite me to the wedding if you marry Charles-Edouard,” she teased her. “I’d be much too jealous.” The man with the yacht that she’d met in San Francisco over Thanksgiving hadn’t panned out. She was still looking for number six, but Charles-Edouard wouldn’t have fit the bill either. Marya was more his type than she was.
“We’re not in any rush,” Marya reassured her.
“What’s happening with Francesca and Chris?” Thalia asked her as Marya handed her a gift. It was one of her cookbooks that Thalia had said she wanted and couldn’t find because it was no longer in print. Thalia thanked her and smiled.
“They seem very happy. They’re just getting started. I think it’ll take a while for them to figure it out. He went through an awful lot with his ex-wife. And Francesca is very cautious, as you know.” Marya poured them both a cup of tea. Thalia was going to miss her. She was her only conduit into her daughter’s life. Francesca never told her anything.
They chatted about Paris for a while, and then Thalia stood up and hugged her. “Take good care of yourself,” Thalia said softly. “I’m going to miss you too, and not just to fill me in about Francesca.” She had become a good friend to them all, and Thalia was happy for her. Marya deserved all the happiness she had found with Charles-Edouard. She brought joy to a lot of people, and it was nice to see her getting her fair share of it back. The two women promised to stay in touch.
Thalia left Christmas gifts for Francesca, Chris, and Ian, and she told Francesca she’d call her from Gstaad. She was leaving for Europe the day before Marya, but she was going to be busy now until she left.
Avery dropped by to say goodbye to Mar
ya too, and leave Christmas gifts for Francesca, Chris, and Ian. The one for Francesca was enormous, and it was easy to guess what it was. It was one of her father’s paintings, to replace the five she had sold.
Francesca was thrilled when she saw it that night, and she had Chris help her hang it in the living room, and took down one she had never liked, by an artist she no longer represented. Chris loved the new one too. They had told Marya and Charles-Edouard all about the show in Miami, and Chris had admitted to being totally overwhelmed.
“I’ve never seen so much art in one place in my life.” Marya said she would have loved to see it. She had always wanted to go to the June show in Basel. Maybe now, living in Paris, she would. There were so many things she wanted to do. She was sad to be leaving, but getting excited as the day approached. They were planning to spend Christmas in Courchevel with friends of Charles-Edouard. It was a very fancy ski resort, with some excellent restaurants Marya was anxious to try out. It was going to be a much more exciting life than the one she’d had on Charles Street for the past year, or in Vermont before that. And Charles-Edouard moved around Europe a lot. He said he wanted to take her to Prague and Budapest.
And then the day finally arrived when they had to leave. It was wrenching, and Francesca and Marya both cried. Marya could hardly let go of Ian, and Charles-Edouard shepherded her gently toward the door, where a car was waiting to take them to the airport. She promised to e-mail, and she and Francesca stood for a last moment holding each other tight.
“Take good care,” Marya whispered, and Francesca was crying too hard to talk.
“I’m going to miss you so much,” she said finally through her tears. This felt like a huge loss to her. And Ian looked mournful too.
“I’ll see you next summer, and talk to you long before that,” Marya promised as she bent to kiss Ian for a last time. Chris kept an arm around Francesca and held Ian’s hand as the car finally drove away, and they all went back inside. The house was going to be deadly quiet without them. Francesca was glad they were going to Boston in a few days, for Christmas with Chris’s family. She was still nervous about meeting them, but it was going to be better than staying home in a house that seemed too big now without Marya and Charles-Edouard.
“I think our kitchen just lost five stars,” Chris said, smiling wistfully at her.
“What do you want for dinner? Pizza or Chinese takeout?” Francesca asked him, and he laughed, as Ian voted for Chinese.
“I think we’re in trouble. One of us better learn to cook.” But Marya had actually taught her a number of her little tricks, if Francesca had time to do them. And Ian had become an expert at making all kinds of cookies. Charles-Edouard had left Chris a box of his favorite Cuban cigars. But the treasures they had left for them were no substitute for the people they had lost. It was going to be a big adjustment without them, and the house felt empty and sad for the rest of the week. It was going to be a relief to fly to Boston, and Ian was excited about seeing his cousins. Francesca was scared stiff. Chris had been giving her little hints about his family, that sounded like warnings. “Conservative, stuffy, not as uptight as they look, religious, Old Guard.” They sounded like danger signs to her.
“What if your parents hate me?” she asked Chris in bed, the night before they left.
“Then I won’t see them anymore,” he said matter-of-factly. “You forget who I was married to before. She’s not exactly a tough act to follow. My mother’s a little serious, but my father’s a good guy. They’ll love you,” he reassured her.
“How is Kim, by the way?” Francesca asked carefully. “Did you ever hear from her father?”
“My lawyer says she’s back in rehab. It won’t last. It never does.” He had given up hope. They had filed a report about her grabbing Ian from school, and she had been strongly reprimanded by the court through her attorney. They considered it a serious violation. Even Chris didn’t think she’d do it again. She hadn’t sent anything to Ian for Christmas. She always forgot, just like she did his birthday. There was no room in her life for holidays. She was too busy either trying to buy drugs, or get off them. It was a full-time job for her. Her addiction was her life.
Francesca’s mother had given Ian a cute little leather bomber jacket, and he loved it. Francesca was touched that she had made the effort. She bought a silver pen set for Chris, and an evening bag for her, which she wasn’t likely to wear often, but it was pretty. The bomber jacket for Ian more than made up for it. And Avery and her father had given him a beautiful drawing set with paints and pastels and pencils and colored pens, and he loved that too. His new substitute grandparents had done well by him. And Francesca loved the painting from her father, and went into the living room to see it every day.
She was going to get busy turning Marya’s room into an office for Chris as soon as they got back from Boston. And he was excited about that. They were spreading out all over the house. It was starting to feel like her house again, not having to make space for roommates. Ian seemed to feel it too—he had left a pile of toys in the kitchen, and loved watching TV with his father in Francesca’s bed at night, and climbing into bed with them on Sunday mornings. Chris and Ian had come home.
Chapter 23
IT TOOK FRANCESCA hours to pack the night before they went to Boston. She wasn’t sure what to bring. Dressy, not so dressy, polite suit for church on Christmas Eve? Cocktail dress for dinner? Too sexy? Too short? Too low cut? Too dreary? She didn‘t want to make a faux pas, and was terrified she would. Chris told her to forget it and wear jeans, but she knew that would be wrong too. She expected them to be conservative and stuffy, from everything Chris had said. She was hoping he had exaggerated a little. But she was worried. In the end, she took all the options with her, and had two heavy suitcases for the plane. Chris groaned when he saw them.
“What did you bring?” he asked with a look of dismay.
“Everything,” she said, smiling happily. She had taken no chances and brought it all. And then she appeared with a third smaller suitcase full of presents for Chris, Ian, and Chris’s parents. He managed to get it all in the car. And when they got to the airport, it was a zoo and the flight was late. It was snowing in Boston. They didn’t get out till ten o’clock, and they landed in Boston before midnight. Chris’s father was waiting for them, despite the late hour. He was a tall man like Chris, but had broader shoulders, a deep voice, and a firm grip as he shook Francesca’s hand. He looked like the linebacker he had been at Harvard fifty years before. He gave Ian a warm look and shook his hand, which seemed unusually formal to Francesca, but he seemed like a nice man. They closed the airport in the snowstorm right after they landed, and the roads were covered as they drove slowly into Boston. The two men talked football and politics in the car. Chris had already warned her that he was considered the family black sheep for not going to Harvard and moving to New York. He didn’t mention their objections to her house. He said they couldn’t understand why he’d want to be a graphic designer instead of a politician or a banker. And Kim had been the icing on the cake. So they didn’t approve of him, whatever they thought of her now. It made entering their world somewhat dicey for Francesca.
Chris’s parents lived in Cambridge, on Brattle Street, where the president of Harvard lived as well. All the men in his family had gone to school there, before becoming senators, governors, and presidents. They were an impressive bunch. Chris seemed so humble and unassuming, given the family he came from.
When they got to the house, his mother was waiting up for them. She was a small grandmotherly-looking woman with white hair and gray eyes like Chris. She was wearing a dark gray wool dress, and a string of pearls. There was nothing fashionable about her. She was totally unlike Francesca’s mother. And she showed Francesca to her room herself. Sharing a room with Chris would have been out of the question, even if Ian weren’t there. Chris’s mother had put Francesca in a guest room as far down the hall as possible from Chris. Her room assignment made it clear that there wa
s to be no hanky-panky in their house. Francesca was nervous as Chris winked and left her in her room, after his mother said goodnight. Francesca wondered if he’d be back later. And Ian was sleeping in the room with his father. It was Chris’s boyhood room, and they had a full house, with Chris’s brother and sister and their families and numerous other relatives and their children staying with them. The house was huge. Chris had explained who would be there and she couldn’t keep track of any of them, the second cousins, an aunt, his siblings and their children. It was very confusing, with relatives and in-laws and their children, many of whom had the same first names. Francesca was sitting in her room, feeling a little dazed, when Chris walked back in, and quickly closed the door. Francesca had realized by then that his mother hadn’t spoken directly to her, other than to greet her, and say goodnight.
“My mother is still wandering around. I’ll be back later,” he said quickly, and Francesca rapidly understood that when he was at home, he followed their rules. Breaking them was not an option, even for him. It was one of the reasons he lived in New York, and had gone to Stanford on the West Coast. His parents had considered it treason.
“I take it you can’t sleep here,” she whispered, and he laughed.
“My mother would call the vice squad and have us both thrown out. She’s a very proper woman.”
44 Charles Street Page 23