by Terri DuLong
“So nice to meet you,” I said while accepting her outstretched hand. I noticed she held on to it longer than necessary as she stared into my eyes.
“Yes, yes. Same here.” She gave my hand a squeeze before letting go, and said, “You have good energy.”
Orli chuckled and shook the old woman’s hand. “Do I have it too?” she questioned.
“You? You, my dear, have a very special gift. The gift of love.”
Orli looked at me and shrugged.
“Okay,” Grant said, directing us to the unit straight ahead. “Let’s get you settled in. Take care, Estelle.”
“Oh, I will, I will.”
Yup, she definitely spoke in double words.
“Oh, and Josie, do stop by my place while you’re here. We’ll have some tea and muffins.”
“Thanks.” I followed Grant and Orli. “Thanks. Maybe I will,” I told her, and wondered if speaking with double words was catching.
I stepped inside the condo and gasped. “Oh, Grant. This is positively stunning.”
My eyes took in the spacious and open great room with a large kitchen behind it and French doors leading outside to a brick patio and greenery. Jutting out above the great room with a staircase to the right was a loft with skylights, creating a warm glow from the sun streaming in.
“Oh, it is, Dad,” Orli gushed. “I just love it.”
I saw the look of pride that covered Grant’s face. “Good. I’m glad you both like it. And over here,” he said, walking to the left, “is your room. I’m in the loft.”
We deposited our wheeled luggage as I took in the large rectangular room, complete with twin beds, a desk, and two bureaus. The plum and cream color scheme was very chic.
“Beautiful,” I said, walking to inspect the attached bathroom.
“It is,” Orli agreed. “But I bet Gram did the decorating.”
Grant laughed. “Yeah, she did, and she also came over this morning and brought a casserole for our dinner this evening. So after you both get unpacked, we can relax a little before we eat. A glass of wine, Josie? And I bet you’d like a hot chocolate, Orli?”
“Thanks, yes,” I said.
“That would be great.” Orli ran over to give Grant another hug, making me question if I’d been wrong not to allow our daughter to grow up in a household with both parents.
26
Following dinner, the three of us sat in the great room, laughing and talking. Orli was curled up on the sofa beside Grant, and I was stretched out in the armchair, my legs propped on the hassock. I let out a sigh of contentment. This was nice. Very nice. I was surprised to realize that this was the first time we’d been together as a family in Grant’s home. When he visited Cedar Key, he came to dinner at our house, but this was different. Orli and I were both going to be living and sleeping under the same roof as Grant for an entire week.
“And so you think you might consider Boston?” I heard Grant say, and tuned back in to their conversation.
I saw Orli shoot a glance over to me. “I . . . don’t know. Maybe.”
I sat up straighter in my chair. “What’s this about? I’m afraid I zoned out.”
“Orli’s been telling me that she might consider college in Boston.”
I recalled that she’d recently said the same thing to Simon’s daughter.
“Yeah, I heard you say that the other evening,” I said. “So what’s up with that?”
“Well . . . I’ve been giving it a lot of thought. And I did some research. I don’t think I want to major in business after all.”
I leaned forward in my chair. “Oh?” I wasn’t sure which surprised me most—the fact that she seemed serious about Boston and had discarded business as a major or the fact that she hadn’t discussed any of it with me.
Grant patted her knee. “Ah, are you considering a nursing degree like your mom?”
Orli shook her head. “No. A degree in journalism, like Nana.”
This news was beyond surprising and the first that I was hearing about it.
“Really?” Where on earth had this come from? “I had no idea you were interested in writing.”
She nodded as she fingered the tassels on the afghan beside her. “I’ve always enjoyed writing, but I’m thinking more along the lines of journalism in relation to the media.”
Grant laughed. “Oh, like an anchor person on our nightly news?”
Orli gave him a playful jab. “Well, more like somebody who travels and does interviews with important people for the news.”
I blew out a breath. “Wow. I had no idea, Orli, but I think it’s great if you think you’d enjoy that as a career. There’s certainly lots of opportunity.” I tried to banish the images in my mind of my daughter in some war-torn country doing interviews.
“Really? Then you’d be okay with it?”
I laughed. “Orli, this is your choice and your life. Not mine. You know how I feel about a woman making her own choices.”
She nodded. “Well . . . that’s why I’m considering Emerson College. Where you went.”
Emerson—what was to have been my alma mater; now my daughter might make it hers. “It’s a great college,” I said.
“It certainly is,” Grant added. “And I won’t lie; I’d love having you so close and living up here during the school year.”
I felt my heart skip a beat. Sure, I knew that day would come when Orli would leave home for college just as I had. But now I felt a twinge of jealousy. For some reason, I felt left out, left behind— because the place that I had always occupied in Orli’s life would now be filled by Grant.
By nine o’clock Orli said she was going to take a shower and get to bed.
She stood up and stifled a yawn. “I’m tired. What are the plans for tomorrow, Dad?”
“That’s up to both of you. Gram would like us to stop by, though, for a quick hello. So maybe we could do lunch in Marblehead.”
“Sounds great,” I said.
“Could we take a drive up the coast to Gloucester and Rockport?” Orli asked.
“Sure. We’ll go to my mother’s in the morning, then get lunch and go for a drive.”
“Sounds like fun,” she said, kissing both of us good night and heading to the bedroom.
Grant watched her leave the room and smiled. “We have one special daughter, don’t we?”
I nodded. “We do.”
“How about a nightcap? A glass of wine?”
“Yes, that would be nice.”
I followed him into the kitchen and perched on a stool as he uncorked a bottle of cabernet and filled two glasses.
“Here you go,” he said, passing one to me. “And here’s to our amazing daughter and her future.”
I nodded. “Yes, to Orli’s future.”
“Would you be okay with Orli going to college up here?” he asked.
“I’d miss her, but no matter where she goes, I’ll miss her, so yes, of course.”
“You seemed surprised about the journalism major.”
“Yeah, I was, in a way. But at this age most young women still aren’t exactly sure what they want.”
“Ah, unlike you, huh?”
I looked across the counter and saw a smile cover Grant’s face. “I thought I was sure about journalism, but as we know now, it really wasn’t what I wanted.”
He took a sip of wine before saying, “Actually, I was referring to you and me. I recall a young woman of nineteen who was very adamant that she shouldn’t marry and should raise her daughter pretty much on her own.”
Over the years I couldn’t recall Grant ever bringing this topic up in a conversation, so I was surprised that he did now.
I blew out a breath. “It wasn’t so much the not getting married, Grant. I just think the timing was wrong. There you were about to graduate college, heading toward a career in law. It wouldn’t have been easy for you.”
He nodded. “Hmm, you’re right. I know that.” He took a gulp of wine and shook his head. “Odd, though, how life is, isn
’t it? Do you ever think how your life might have been different had we married before Orli was born?”
“I have thought about that. I don’t think I would have become a nurse for one thing. I would have been a stay-at-home mom, I’m sure.”
“Probably. Would you have minded that?”
I thought about his question for a few moments. “Not at all when Orli was small. Actually, I would have welcomed it. It was tough trying to juggle low-paying jobs and spending quality time with Orli.”
Grant nodded, and I went on, “But I think once she got into high school I would have wanted to find myself outside of the home. Do you know what I mean?”
“I do. Yes, of course, and I think that’s natural. So maybe that’s when you would have gone to college and become a nurse.”
“You could be right. But we were young when I got pregnant with Orli, so who knows if our marriage would have lasted. And look at what we have now . . . a wonderful and close friendship. We might have jeopardized this by getting married at that time.”
I saw a thoughtful expression cross Grant’s face, and he let out a deep sigh. “Hmm, you could be right. So when do you begin your new job?”
“The week after New Year’s, January seventh.”
“Are you excited?” he asked.
“I am. It’ll be nice working so close to home, and I think Simon will be a dream to work with.”
“Simon?”
I laughed. “Well, Dr. Mancini, but he told me to call him by his first name outside of office hours.”
“I see,” was all he said, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think there was a tad of jealousy there.
As if to confirm this, he asked, “So are you and Simon . . . seeing each other outside of the office?”
“Well, we haven’t begun working together yet, but . . . yeah, we’ve had a couple dinners together. But they really can’t qualify as dates. Just friendly, informal dinners.”
I took the last sip of my wine and glanced up to the clock on the wall. “Gosh, it’s ten-fifteen already. No wonder I’m tired. I’m sure Orli is fast asleep, so I’m going to take a quick shower and jump in bed myself.”
I got up to place my wineglass in the sink and felt Grant’s hands on my shoulders. I spun around to find his face inches from mine.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “I’ve always loved being with you.”
“Same here,” I told him before his lips touched my cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Sleep well,” I heard him say as I walked toward the bedroom. For the first time in sixteen years I felt unsure of myself with him.
27
The following morning I woke to the sound of laughter. Turning over in bed, I realized it was Grant and Orli. The bedside clock read 8:30. God, I’d slept like a rock and couldn’t believe it was that time already. I got up, hit the bathroom, and put on my robe before I walked into the kitchen to find father and daughter engrossed in a crossword puzzle as they stood near each other at the counter.
“Good morning, sleepyhead,” Grant said with a huge grin on his face. “Coffee?”
He walked to the Bunn coffeemaker on the counter, filled a stoneware mug, and passed it to me.
“Thanks, and gosh, I didn’t mean to sleep so late. What time did you get up, Orli?”
She waved her hand in the air. “Oh, hours ago. Dad and I have been waiting for you so we could get going.”
I glanced at her and saw she was still in her pajamas. “You little fibber, you,” I said, going over to give her hug.
She let out a laugh. “Nah, I only got up about a half hour ago, about the same time Dad did.”
“Yeah, there’s no rush,” he said. “How about some French toast for breakfast?”
“Cool,” Orli said before bending her head back over the puzzle.
Grant began removing items from the fridge and cabinets. “So you slept well?”
“Very well, thanks, but can I help?”
“Nope. I’ve got this under control. Just relax.”
I walked toward the French doors and looked out to the patio. Another sunny day. I cracked the door and then shivered. “Oh, you were right. Definitely cooler out there this morning.”
“Yeah, I caught the weather when I got up, and you might get your wish, Orli. There’s a possibility of snow flurries tomorrow evening.”
“Sweet. On Christmas Eve.”
“Oh, did my box arrive with all the Christmas presents?” I’d decided it was much easier to ship the gifts rather than lug them on the plane.
Grant nodded as he poured batter onto a large skillet. “Yes, I put the box into the hall closet.”
“Thanks.” I perched on a stool next to Orli as I watched Grant display an ease in the kitchen that I remembered from our college days at his apartment.
Orli continued to study the crossword as I sat and watched Grant cook bacon to go with the French toast. Such a normal everyday scene in most households, but the three of us were experiencing it for the first time—and I discovered I liked it.
“Here we go,” I heard Grant say as he placed plates on the table. “Chef Cooper bids you bon appétit.”
Orli and I both laughed as we joined him.
“Gosh, your cooking skills put mine to shame,” I said after taking a bite. “Delicious.”
“That’s not true, Mom. I think you’re a good cook.”
My daughter, ever the diplomat.
After a few minutes, she said, “You know . . . I was kinda wondering. . . maybe Friday or Saturday we could take a drive to Boston. To see the Emerson campus.”
Grant stared at me from across the table, leaving the ball in my court.
I took a sip of juice and nodded. “Well . . . yeah. I think we could probably do that. They’re closed for Christmas break though, so you wouldn’t be able to go inside.”
“Right, I know, but I think I’d just like to see the area.”
“You’re sounding pretty interested in Emerson,” I said.
“I think I might be.”
“If it’s okay with your mom, sure, we could make a day of it and then have dinner in the North End after.”
“Yeah, that sounds great,” I said. Then why did I have a nagging ache inside of me?
A few hours later we pulled up in front of Grant’s childhood home, located on a narrow side street in Old Town. I’d always loved this house. The white clapboard building sat back from the sidewalk surrounded by a small garden that was now in its winter slumber. With gabled roof, brick chimneys and bay windows, the two-story structure was the quintessential historical home in Marblehead.
Walking down the brick path, I looked up to see that Molly had already flung open the front door and was standing on the porch to greet us.
Orli rushed into her arms. “Merry Christmas, Gram. You look great.”
Molly did look great. At sixty-six she had maintained her youthful figure and the cut of her short, stylish silver hair very much resembled mine.
She opened her other arm to me. “Josie, how wonderful you’re here. You and Orli both get prettier each time I see you.”
I laughed and placed a kiss on her cheek.
“Come on inside. It’s getting nippy out here. I think they’re predicting flurries for tomorrow night.”
We followed her into the large hallway and the spacious sitting room on the right.
“That’s what Dad said. I’m hoping we do get a bit of snow. Makes it more festive, don’t you think?”
Molly laughed. “It’s festive until you have to shovel it. How about some tea, coffee? Hot chocolate for you, Orli?”
I nodded. “Coffee would be great, thanks. Can I help with anything?”
“Oh, I’ll help her,” Orli said before Molly could respond.
“Sit down and make yourself comfortable,” Grant told me.
I looked around the room and smiled. There was a lot to be said for things not changing. The room looked much as it had years before on my first
visit to this house. Same cushy furniture, antique tables and lamps, and Persian carpet covering the center of the hardwood floor. Late-morning sunlight streamed through the bay windows, adding to the coziness, and in front of the windows a huge Christmas tree dominated the room. I could smell the scent of pine and walked over to admire the many ornaments and decorations.
“This is such a great house, Grant. I’ve always loved it, and your mom did an outstanding job with the tree.” I sank into one of the armchairs.
He nodded. “Yeah, I agree, and the house has been in our family for generations, so that makes it extraspecial.”
I thought of my grandmother’s house where Orli and I lived and knew what he meant. Glancing around I saw that one lacquered table held framed photographs and got up to take a look.
Grant’s parents’ wedding photo stood beside one of Jeff and Melissa. There were images of both Orli and Dirk at various stages of growth and one photo that I hadn’t seen in years: Grant and I taken during the first year we met. We’d gone on a picnic to Devereux Beach in Marblehead with a group of friends from college. It was an exceptionally mild day in November. Grant and I sat atop the stone wall with the ocean behind us. My long hair was blowing in the wind, and we were snuggled into each other’s arms. I lifted the photo to look closer and saw the emotion of pure joy and love on our faces.
“You had that photo blown up and gave it to me for Christmas that year, remember?”
I spun around to see Grant standing behind me, a somber expression on his face.
“I do,” was all I said as I vividly recalled that magical day. Later that evening at his apartment we’d made love for the first time.
“Here we go,” Molly said, coming into the room with Orli behind her carrying a tray. “Hot drinks and some gingerbread cookies I baked this morning.”
My memory evaporated, and I returned to the armchair.
“So are your plans all made for the birthday celebration Sunday evening?” Molly asked.
Grant hadn’t said a word to me about what he had planned, so I was as curious as his mother.