He would have plenty of time to get Leslie out of his hair and back on the road by two, he was sure. He knew that Leslie had a little crush on him. They had gone out on one or two dates last year, but nothing had come of it. She was smart and attractive, but definitely not his type. They were fine being colleagues . . . at least he was.
He arrived at the Clam Box a few minutes before twelve. There were plenty of empty tables, and the older waitress, Trudy, met him at the door. She even knew his name by now.
“Just yourself today, Jonathan?” she said.
“A friend is joining me. She should be here soon.”
She led him to a table by the window. “I’ll leave two menus. Be back in a minute to take your order.”
Jonathan nodded and looked out the window to see if Leslie was coming down the street to the diner. He checked his watch. She was usually very punctual. He hoped she hadn’t gotten lost. Timing was important here today.
“Hey, what are you doing here? Did you track me down again?” He heard a cheerful voice and looked up. It was Tess, in her waitress uniform. She looked so cute, his first impulse was to jump up and kiss her.
But he knew Charlie wouldn’t like that, and he didn’t want to get her in trouble. Instead, he just smiled. “No, I didn’t stalk you. I thought you weren’t working here today.”
“Charlie called me in for some extra hours, breakfast and lunch. I’ll be off soon. I can still meet you later.”
“Oh . . . well, good. That’s very good,” he repeated awkwardly. Jonathan forced a smile but didn’t know what to say.
“Give me your order. I’ll tell Charlie to rush it.”
“That’s okay. I don’t want to jump the line. I don’t know what I want yet . . . and Trudy is my waitress, I think,” he added. Tess gave him a puzzled look. “Besides, I’m meeting someone . . . a friend of mine from school.”
Jonathan was about to explain more—that Leslie was more of a snooping rival than a friend—when Leslie entered the diner. She saw him, and a big smile stretched across her face. She waved wildly, as if she were on a cruise ship and he was down on a dock, awaiting her arrival.
Jonathan managed a weak smile and a wave in return. Tess followed his gaze. “Is that your friend?”
He nodded. “We’re in the same program. She was driving by on her way to Maine.”
Leslie came to the table and Jonathan stood up politely. She greeted him with a big hug. “It’s so good to see you, Jonathan. I feel like you’ve been gone for months. There’s no one left to talk to. No one funny or smart,” she added.
She sat down and put her handbag on the seat beside her. Then she glanced at Tess. “Just a glass of water please, miss, with plenty of ice. What a quaint place. I guess there aren’t too many choices here.” She leaned toward Jonathan. “Anything decent to eat? I have a sensitive stomach.”
Tess looked a little put out by Leslie’s imperious treatment, but she took it on the chin, Jonathan thought. She was about to walk away, but Jonathan stopped her.
“Leslie, this is Tess,” Jonathan said quickly. He was going to describe Tess as a friend, but she seemed so much more now. Still, he felt wary of calling her his girlfriend. It didn’t seem the time or the place to announce that to the world. Was it? he wondered.
Leslie was still reading the menu and glanced up. She looked at Tess, as if seeing her for the first time. “Oh, how do you do? Leslie Hammond.” She stretched out her hand and Tess shook it.
“Nice to meet you,” Tess said evenly. She looked at Jonathan. “I’ll go find Trudy for you. Have a good lunch.”
Jonathan followed her with his gaze. He couldn’t tell if she was mad or not. Leslie had treated Tess like she was furniture, but he had introduced her, trying to make up for that.
I’ll explain everything to her later. She’ll understand, Jonathan told himself.
Trudy came and they ordered. “A salad’s usually safe,” Leslie said as Trudy left. She picked up her fork and rubbed it with a paper napkin. “How’s the research going, Jonathan? People keep asking where you are. There must be something pretty important for you to camp out here in the wilderness.”
“Oh, it’s not such a big deal. But it is time-consuming,” he replied.
“Everything worthwhile is. Waldham says you’ve got some Native American thing cooking out here. I bet him twenty bucks he was wrong.”
“Really? You two must be pretty bored.” Jonathan smiled, acting amused. Did she expect him to chomp on that bait? He even doubted that Leslie had made a wager with Mitch Waldham, another doctoral candidate, though he didn’t doubt that they gossiped about him.
She shrugged and tilted her head to one side, her smooth brown hair falling across her shoulder. “We’re all stuck in the trenches together, Jon. We have to have some amusements.”
Jonathan took a sip of his water and sighed inwardly. He hated when people shortened his name like that, but he didn’t bother to tell her. He snuck a peek at his watch. Had they only been sitting here ten minutes? It felt like hours.
“So what are you up to these days, Leslie? How did it go with that article you did on the mining strike? Have you sent it to any journals yet?”
“A few. These editorial review boards take so long. It’s ancient history by the time they get back to you. I almost had a hit on the last one, American Scholarly Review. But one reader sent it back with about a million queries. I think she even complained about the typeface I used.”
Trudy brought their lunch, and Leslie stabbed a slice of tomato with vigor. Jonathan shook his head in sympathy. “That’s too bad. Sometimes I think these journals are more interested in rejecting material than publishing anything. Just to keep their standards up.” While his observation was true, and Leslie was smart and ambitious, Jonathan knew she was also a pretty sloppy, slapdash scholar. He wasn’t surprised her paper had not met their editorial standards. She churned out papers but got few published. He, on the other hand, was slow and careful, the tortoise who didn’t turn out much but crept to the finish line.
The conversation lapsed for a moment as Trudy returned and filled their water glasses.
“Okay, not Native Americans,” Leslie suddenly. “Now I’m guessing the seeds of the Revolution?” It took Jonathan a moment to catch up with her. Then he realized she was still trying to guess the topic he was researching. “I hear there was some interesting activity among the local population, spies in the British army who sympathized with the colonists. Could have been a real lynchpin of the entire war. No one has ever been able to document it, though. Do you think that’s true?”
“Really? That would be a good study . . . Wait, let me get this down.” Jonathan took a pen from his pocket and pretended to jot notes on a napkin. He already knew about that footnote of Revolutionary War history, but it wasn’t his beat.
“Jonathan!” Leslie laughed and reached out to cover his hand with her own. “Just stop. I know when you’re putting me on.”
“And I know when you’re trying to inveigle information out of me,” he replied with good humor that he really didn’t feel.
“Inveigle?” Leslie’s eyebrows rose. “Isn’t that a harsh thing to say about a friend?”
Jonathan felt someone standing by the table and looked up to see Tess again. Leslie’s hand was still covering his, and he slowly pulled it away.
“Tess, do you have a minute?” he said impulsively. “Come and talk to my friend Leslie. She’s giving me all the dirt about the department.”
Inside he felt like a melting dish of ice cream. His false cheer was annoying even to his own ears, and Tess was looking at him with a totally puzzled—and repulsed—expression.
Still, he persisted. He couldn’t help himself. “Tess is studying history, too. At Boston University,” he told Leslie. “She’s also specializing in the colonial era.”
Leslie glanced at her. “I didn’t know they let you specialize as an undergrad. Is that a special program?”
“I’m in my senior year, and I’ve been allowed to take some grad courses.”
“Oh, good for you. You must be very bright,” Leslie said, as if she were talking to a five-year-old.
“Tess works at the historical society in town,” Jonathan added quickly before Leslie could somehow manage to insult her again. “She’s a docent there. She’s been a great help with my research.”
As soon as the words came out, Jonathan realized he had made a big mistake.
Leslie turned and focused her full attention on Tess. “Really? I could always use a good researcher. What sort of material did you unearth for him?”
Tess looked taken aback by her tone. “Some letters. About the Marsh Fever quarantine on Angel Island. It wasn’t called Angel Island back then though, of course—”
“And when was that, exactly?” Leslie acted as if she was just curious, but Jonathan knew she was digging for information.
“Oh, it was just a few letters. Nothing important,” Jonathan cut in before Tess could go any further.
He tried to send Tess a message with his eyes, but she wouldn’t look at him. He knew he was being rude, but he couldn’t let Tess give away the entire subject of his study. She had already given Leslie a huge clue. He knew he might seem paranoid to Tess, but he didn’t want anyone to know what he was working on.
Good research ideas and theories were stolen every day in academia. And some people, like Leslie, were such gossips. Even if she was only interested to find out if his paper was any better than her research, she would tell the whole world about his ideas and someone out there would find them worthy of stealing.
“Tess . . . Charlie wants you. Looks like he’s got an order up,” he said suddenly.
Charlie stood behind the counter making sandwiches. He had looked their way a few times with his usual scowl, but he wasn’t trying to get Tess’s attention. Not now, anyway.
Tess looked over her shoulder. When she looked back, Jonathan could tell she knew he had just made an excuse to get rid of her. To his astonishment, she played along.
“Thanks. I think you’re right. I don’t want to lose my great job here.” She smiled at Leslie and snapped her gum. “Enjoy your lunch.” Then she flounced off with an exaggerated walk. Jonathan watched her with a sinking feeling.
“Do you eat here much? You seem to know her pretty well.” Leslie had only finished half her salad but pushed the dish away.
“I do know her. She’s . . . a very interesting person.”
Leslie gave him a skeptical look.
She’s more intelligent and interesting than you, he nearly said.
But it wasn’t Leslie’s fault. He was the one who had made a mess of things. Tess felt hurt now, and he didn’t blame her. He only hoped he could get rid of Leslie quickly.
He would catch up with Tess at Lilac Hall later. In a little while, we’ll be laughing about this, he told himself.
When Trudy came to the table a few minutes later, Jonathan asked for the check. Leslie looked a little surprised. She hadn’t finished her coffee. “Don’t let me rush you,” he said politely as he picked up the check. “Take your time, finish your coffee. I have an appointment. I didn’t realize how late it was.”
He did have an appointment, an important one . . . meeting Tess. She no longer seemed to be in the diner, and he wondered if her shift was over and she had left through the kitchen.
“Oh, that’s too bad. I thought we could walk around the town a little, and you could show me the sights. Maybe I should wait for you somewhere. How long do you think you’ll be?”
Leslie was nothing if not persistent, wasn’t she? Jonathan almost had to marvel at her.
“I’m sorry, I don’t think that will work out. We’ll catch up after the holidays. Maybe you’ll win that twenty dollars from Waldham after all and you can take me out to lunch.”
Leslie laughed. “I would, but I can’t win it if you don’t tell me what you’re working on.”
“Good point.” Jonathan was already standing. He gathered his jacket and bag. “Have a safe trip. Merry Christmas.”
“Same to you, Jonathan. Thanks for lunch. It was great to see you.” Leslie stood up and gave him another big hug and a big kiss on his cheek. Then she just stood with her arms around his shoulders. “Will you be back for New Year’s Eve? My roommates and I are having a party. I hope you can come.”
“Sounds fun. I’ll let you know,” he said, quickly slipping from her embrace. “See you soon.”
Jonathan was finally out of her reach and quickly walked to the door. Out on Main Street, he practically jogged to his car and drove straight to Lilac Hall.
* * *
“How about that sandwich you made me last week—with the chicken and cheese and arugula? Got any of those around today, Moll?”
Molly had asked Sam to stop by the shop on Monday. Of course, he had come at lunchtime, though she never minded feeding him.
They hadn’t spoken after the party Saturday night. They both felt stunned by what Kevin and Adele revealed and shocked that, even in the light of that revelation, their father had remained so angry and unforgiving. But after Joe and Marie left, the gathering had continued. On a more subdued note, to be sure. Still, everyone had enjoyed spending time with Uncle Kevin and his family. Reconnecting with them was the one good thing that had emerged from this heartbreaking situation, Molly thought.
She set the sandwich and a cup of coffee in front of her brother and sat down across from him.
“So, what do you think now?” he asked her.
“I think we’ve lost a father . . . but gained an uncle?” She tried to smile but couldn’t quite manage it.
“Don’t joke. Did you call Dad yet? I tried yesterday. He wouldn’t talk to me.”
“I figured. I didn’t even try. He needs some time to cool down, Sam. You know how he gets.”
Molly was honestly afraid to call her father. The way he had looked at her, it hurt all over just to think of it.
“So . . .” Sam’s tone was cautious. “Are you going to say I told you so? I mean, if you are, let’s just get it over with.”
She sat back and looked at her brother. Maybe, at some other point in this saga, she would have said that. But Molly knew, somewhere along the line, something inside her had shifted. She saw this whole story differently. The view from her head . . . and her heart.
“No, I’m not going to say that. For once,” she added, making him smile. “I think we did the right thing. What I told Dad was true. It’s about more than him and Uncle Kevin. We’re all connected. Or should be. At least we tried, right?”
Sam nodded. “Yeah, we did. But I can’t help feeling things are even worse now than when Grandma Addie got here. Though I’d never tell her that.”
“I wouldn’t, either,” Molly agreed. “She’ll only feel guilty. I spoke to her yesterday on the phone. She’s still up at the inn. She felt too tired for the drive on Sunday, poor thing.”
The entire evening had been emotionally wrenching for their grandmother. Molly wasn’t sure how she had gotten through it. She was stronger than they all gave her credit for, that was for sure.
“Is she staying until Christmas?” Sam asked.
“No, she said she was leaving this week. As soon as she feels up to it.”
“Christmas is only a week away, Moll. What’s going to happen if Dad’s still angry? It will ruin the entire holiday for the kids, for all of us.”
Molly had thought of that, too. “Do you and Jessica want to skip the Christmas Eve party this year? We’ll understand,” she added quickly. “We can all just hang out at home and get together on Christmas Day for desserts or something, so the kids can
open their presents together.”
“I’ve been wondering the same thing,” Sam confessed. “Should we really cancel Christmas over this? The whole idea seems crazy, but if Dad stays this angry, there wouldn’t be much joy in a party. It would almost be as if we were getting together just to spite him. But what about the kids?” he added. “They don’t understand what’s happening.”
Molly thought the same. The teenagers, along with Tyler, had been in their own world, at the back of the house with their loud music and TV-screen dance game. The little ones, Betty and Lily, had been playing with dolls up in Betty’s room. Luckily for everyone.
“I know. But it’s up to you and Jess. We’ll do whatever you want.”
“We talked about it. Jess wants to have the party whether or not Dad and Mom want to come. Her family is counting on it. We have to think of them, too.”
Jessica’s sister, Emily, was the town mayor. She and her husband, Dan, and their youngest daughter, Jane, were always at Sam’s house for Christmas Eve. Emily’s older daughter, Sara, and her husband, Luke, usually came in for a few days from Boston, and sometimes Dan’s daughter Lindsay, who ran the Cape Light Messenger, came with her family, too. It was a full house, no question, and it was the biggest party of the year. Everyone looked forward to it.
“You know how Jessica’s mother gets,” Sam said, talking about his mother-in-law, Lillian. “She hates any change of traditions or plans. If we wanted to cancel this party, we would have needed to send her a registered letter back in July.”
Molly had to laugh. But it was true. Lillian Warwick and her husband, Dr. Ezra Elliot, would not understand such a disruption in their schedule. Molly knew that the Morgan family—with all their boisterous displays of emotion—was still a mind-boggling experience for Lillian. She could never understand why her younger daughter had chosen Sam Morgan . . . and never would.
“It’s settled then. Game on for Christmas Eve. No matter what kind of mood Dad’s in.” Molly tried to sound positive but knew she didn’t quite pull it off.
No question about it. This year Christmas was going to be a forced march, one she sort of dreaded now. She hated to blame Grandma Addie, but Sam had a point. Things were worse—much worse—than they had been before their grandmother got here, and Molly wondered now if it had all been worth it, despite what she had just told Sam. Even though it had been good to reconnect with Uncle Kevin, he was off to New Zealand in a week or two.
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