Lucy remembered Jack was recently separated from his wife. Had he put up a tree on his own? She somehow doubted it.
“Do you have plans for the holidays?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I grew up in Pennsylvania, near Pittsburgh. My family is all down there. I guess I’ll visit for Christmas if my hours work out.” He glanced at her. “I might just skip it though, go skiing instead.”
Lucy was quiet for a moment. “The holidays can be hard. You feel as if you should be happy, but not everyone is.”
“Yeah, that’s it,” he said. “I think I told you that my wife and I split up. My family knows about it, but it’s still hard to go down there alone. I guess I’m not really in the mood for Christmas this year.”
“I’m not either,” she confided. “I just feel too busy. But you can’t skip it when you have kids. Christmas is such a big deal for them. So I try to make an effort for them, to give them a nice day.”
He smiled at her. “I bet you give them a great day. Do they still believe in Santa?”
“They’re both too old for that. But they still wake up early and rush downstairs for their presents. Jamie, the younger one, asked for these boot things with wheels on the bottom. So he can roll around town and break his neck—Rollies, I think they’re called. I bet I’m going to be standing on some long line tomorrow for those.”
“Get me some while you’re at it. I’m a size eleven.” Lucy laughed at him. “I’m not kidding. Can you imagine doing rounds in Rollies? I’d be done in no time.”
“I’ll look for your size, but I’m not promising anything.”
“I would like to have kids someday,” Jack said quietly. “I feel like I’m getting older and I’m missing out.”
Lucy was surprised by his confession. She had often heard women say they wanted children, but rarely men.
“You have lots of time, Jack. Don’t worry. You’ll have kids. I’m almost sure of it.”
“Thanks, I hope so.” He glanced at her. “I bet you’re a great mom. I bet your kids adore you.”
Lucy felt herself blush and was thankful for the dark.
“I wish I had more time to do things with them,” she confessed. “They grow up so fast, it’s amazing.”
He smiled at her and she smiled back. She felt a special connection to him, a spark that was more than friendship. It made her feel attractive and interesting…and guilty, too.
Jack turned off the main road, and they were soon in Cape Light. The harbor came into view and the snow-covered village square, a perfect backdrop for the town Christmas tree.
Main Street was decorated with garlands of white lights swooping over the avenue and pine wreaths with red bows on all the streetlights. The shop windows were filled with holiday displays, with golden ribbons on miniature trees, and miniature train sets, circling them.
“I forgot how pretty this town is,” Jack said. “I don’t get here very often.”
“It’s a nice place to live all year long. But it really shines at Christmastime,” Lucy agreed.
They drove a bit farther down the street, and Jack parked in front of the Clam Box.
“You must be hungry,” Lucy said. “Would you like to come inside and get a bite to eat? On the house, of course.”
“Thanks, but I’d better head back. Maybe another time.”
“Anytime at all. Bring a friend,” she added. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me.”
“It wasn’t anything, Lucy. That’s what friends are for.”
So, he thought she was a friend. She would have to think about that. Later.
Lucy gathered up her handbag and book bag, got out, and said good night to Jack. Then she turned toward the diner. Charlie had hung a Christmas wreath on the door and some twinkling lights across the window. She would have to do more decorating here, but it was a start. Lucy felt in a better mood about the holidays. Maybe shopping tomorrow wouldn’t be that awful. Maybe she would look for some little token for Jack. To thank him for helping her out tonight. That wouldn’t be too much, she thought. Would it?
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Cape Light, Present-day
“EMILY, THANK GOODNESS YOU’VE COME. THEY’RE TAKING over, I tell you! They’re turning this place into…Santa’s Workshop!”
Sara looked down from the ladder at her grandmother who sat stiffly in her wheelchair, waving her good arm over her head, as if signaling for help on a desert island.
Sara was sorry that Lillian was so upset. Then again, she had warned her that they were going to decorate.
Emily walked in and kissed her mother’s cheek. Emily had promised to come straight from church, but after the service she told Sara and Luke she needed to stay for the Christmas Fair meeting. Lillian was not happy to hear that and had interrupted with several frantic calls. Finally, Emily was here. Sara thought she might be almost as relieved to see her as Lillian was.
“Calm down, Mother. The place looks beautiful.” Emily turned to look at the living room, which had been remarkably changed in only a few days. Luke had painted, and Sara had taken down the heavy damask curtains and replaced them with some golden sheers she found in the attic.
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about. You should be grateful to Sara and Luke for going to all this trouble for you.”
“Grateful? Who ever asked them to decorate my house like some department store window? I certainly never did!”
Lillian made a sour face and tugged at the crocheted shawl tucked around her shoulders. “All this light, it hurts my eyes. I liked the heavy curtains. They kept the sun from fading the furniture.”
Sara finished tacking pine boughs around the carved wooden mantle and started to climb down from the ladder. She had already secured garlands above the arched entrance ways that separated the large rooms and then had wound wide ribbon around all the columns and the long banister on the stairway.
Luke was outside decorating, as per Sara’s orders. She had sent him out with yards of icicle lights, more pine roping, and a huge wreath for the front door.
“Everything looks beautiful, Sara,” Emily said, ignoring her mother. “Are you going to put up a tree?”
“Right over there, by the bay window.” Sara showed Emily the spot that had been cleared for the Christmas tree. “It’s out on the porch. We picked it up last night.”
“A tree? You mean a large tree?” Lillian rolled toward them, using her good hand to move the chair.
“Lillian, I told you we were going to buy a tree. I even told you where we wanted to put it. Don’t you remember?”
“I thought you meant some tabletop decoration, the kind you always get for me. That’s enough trouble as it is.”
Every December since Sara had moved to Cape Light, she brought her grandmother a tiny Christmas tree and decorated it for her. Lillian always acted as if she didn’t care one way or the other, but Sara knew their little ritual was important to Lillian.
“Oh, Mother, it will be good for you to have a real Christmas tree for once,” Emily said. “I can’t remember the last time you had one in here.”
“And for good reason,” Lillian snapped. “The needles get all over the house, stuck in the carpet, in the upholstery. You find them in your food if you’re not careful.”
Emily bit back a smile. “It sounds as if Sara and Luke have already bought the tree. I suppose you’ll just have to deal with it.”
“We’ll be very careful about the needles,” Sara promised. “We’ll certainly keep them out of your food.”
Lillian frowned. “That’s what you say now. Just wait until you find me choking to death. I’ve really never understood this strange tradition—chopping down a tree and dragging it into your house and making a positive fetish out of it. It’s positively pagan. Next thing I know you and your new husband will be painting yourselves blue and dancing around a bonfire.”
Sara had to cover her mouth to keep from laughing out loud. “Now there’s an idea for a New Year’s Eve party,
Lillian. We did want to do something different this year.”
Emily sat down on the couch near her mother. “It is their first Christmas together, Mother. It’s a special time for them, and they want to make it memorable. Didn’t you and Dad feel special about your first Christmas together?”
“What difference does that make? It’s my private memory. It only has meaning for me,” Lillian snapped, but Sara saw a strange expression cross her grandmother’s face. Neither Emily nor Jessica mentioned their father often. Sara knew that he was a touchy subject for the Warwick women. On one hand, his memory seemed idealized; he was always portrayed as a larger-than-life figure who charmed everyone he met, including his two daughters. On the other hand, there were dark, unhappy memories of the family’s disgrace and fall from fortune, and Oliver Warwick had been the cause of it all.
“Memories are all you have when you get old,” Lillian went on in a bitter tone. “The only place you feel alive again is remembering the past. The present is a sham. Everyone pretends to include you, but you’re really only a bystander. You have no say anymore, not even in your own home. I’m much happier in the company of ghosts and shadows now. Ghosts and shadows…who understand me.”
“Oh, Lillian,” Sara said, suddenly feeling awful about everything she had done. She had thought she was helping, trying to clean and freshen up the old house. She hadn’t realized that her grandmother felt as if she was being pushed to the sidelines, her wishes ignored.
“I’m so sorry,” Sara went on. “I thought you would be pleased with the decorations and everything. We don’t have to put up a tree if you don’t want one.”
Lillian sighed heavily, met her granddaughter’s remorseful gaze, and looked away. “Christmas tree, no Christmas tree, what does it matter? You bought the thing, paid good money for it, I’m sure. Just put it up now and get it over with. I can stand it this once, I suppose. It won’t kill me.”
“No, it won’t kill you,” Emily agreed. “It might even cheer you up a bit, Mother. I think it’s been good having Luke and Sara here. Look how much they’ve helped you.”
Lillian didn’t answer at first. She worked on the fringe of her shawl, smoothing it out with her long fingers. “He painted my room. Did you see it?” she asked Emily.
“No, I haven’t. How did it come out?”
Lillian shrugged. “It looks cleaner. The color looked different on the little card from the hardware store. It’s a bit brighter than I expected.”
Sara and Emily exchanged a look. Of course it was. That went without saying.
“Let’s go take a look. I want to see it.” Emily got up and pushed Lillian’s chair toward the bedroom. Sara stayed behind in the living room. She had brought down some boxes of Christmas decorations from the attic. Now she carried them over to the spot where she and Luke planned to put the tree, feeling deflated by her grandmother’s anger. But what did she honestly expect? Maybe once the tree was up and decorated, Lillian would relent and maybe even take some pleasure in it.
Sara was sure that her grandmother had some special memories of Christmas that were precious to her, that cheered her. Even if she didn’t want to share them.
Boston, November 1955
LILLIAN FOLDED AN EXTRA SWEATER AND PLACED IT IN HER BAG, then took it out again. Did she have enough warm clothes? It would be colder up in Cape Light and Newburyport, especially out on the beach. But thick sweaters and pants weren’t very attractive. She knew it was an acceptable style for women now and very practical, but she wasn’t used to wearing trousers like a man.
She felt confused and couldn’t keep her thoughts straight. She was usually so quick and efficient at packing. But this was…different.
Beth lounged on Lillian’s bed, paging through a copy of Life magazine. “I didn’t know you were going away again this weekend. I thought we were going to the movies tomorrow night. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Lillian bit her lip. She had forgotten her promise to take Beth and her girlfriend to the movies. Beth was grumpy because she didn’t want Lillian to go away. She missed her and didn’t like being stuck all alone in the house with their parents. Lillian couldn’t blame her. In a few years Beth would be going away to college, and then Lillian would be stuck here alone—unless she got married.
“I’m going up to see Charlotte. She’s having a party and wants me to be there. I thought I told you.”
“Can I come?”
Lillian shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t think so. Besides, you would be bored. There’s no one there your age.”
Beth sat up. “I can’t imagine how you’re not bored up there in the wintertime. What is there to do? You can’t go to the beach. You never even liked it there when we used to go for summer vacation.”
Lillian added the red sweater again and smoothed it down on top of the pile. “Of course I like it. It’s very pretty. Besides, I like to get out of the city once in a while and go someplace quiet.”
Beth flopped back against the pillows and watched her older sister move around the room. “It’s a guy, right? And Mom and Dad don’t know.”
Lillian felt a little jolt. Beth had guessed so easily. Would her parents guess, too? “I told you, I’m just going to see Charlotte. I think you’re reading too many of those True Romance magazines. I saw them hidden under your bed,” she teased.
“Don’t try to distract me, Lily. I think we have a true romance right here, a juicy one, too.” Beth stood up and walked closer to Lillian. “Go ahead,” she whispered. “You can tell me. I won’t tell a soul, I promise.” She stared at Lillian expectantly then drew an X over her heart.
Lillian felt a tender rush toward her little sister. Beth was so sweet, so dear to her. She knew her little sister would never betray her to their parents. In fact, she would probably do her best to help Lillian cover up if it ever came to that.
Lillian had been aching to take someone into her confidence. So far, Charlotte was the only one who knew. More than happy to help the romance along, Charlotte had invited Lillian up for weekend visits so that she could secretly see Oliver.
But Charlotte got so excited whenever Lillian tried to talk about Oliver rationally—the way she felt torn between her feelings for him and her loyalty to her family—that Charlotte hardly heard a word of it.
Lillian sat down on the bed and looked up at Beth. “Yes, it’s a man. He’s very nice. He’s wonderful, really. But don’t tell Mom and Dad. Promise me?”
“Oh, Lily!” Beth sat down next to her, her eyes bright, her voice low and excited. “That’s so romantic! Is he handsome? What does he look like?”
“Yes, he’s very handsome. And very smart and charming. I think you would like him, and I know he would adore you.”
“But why can’t he come here? Why can’t I meet him?” Lillian didn’t answer right away. “Oh,” Beth said softly. “It’s that Oliver fellow, isn’t it? The one father wants to have arrested.”
Lillian gripped her sister’s hands. Her own hands were like ice. “Yes, it is. But don’t tell, Beth. Please? He’s not at all the way they say…. You believe me, don’t you?”
Beth nodded, her expression serious. “I’m sure he’s a good person if you think so, Lily. You’re so particular. Mom and Dad will just have to try to understand.”
“I hope so,” Lillian said.
“Don’t worry. They will.” Beth leaned over and hugged her, suddenly seeming older and wiser.
Lillian hugged her back, giving her a hard squeeze, then stood up and closed her suitcase. “I’d better go or I’ll miss my train. Look, I’ll try to get back early on Sunday. Maybe we can still do something.”
“Promises, promises,” Beth joked. She picked up a sweater Lillian had left on the bed. “Can I borrow your blue sweater this weekend? It goes perfectly with my poodle skirt, and I’m going to a dance tonight. Please?”
“But, Beth…that’s cashmere.” Lillian’s resistance faded as she took in Beth’s pleading expression. “Okay, just this once. Don’t spi
ll anything on it—or else!”
Beth hugged the sweater to her chest, looking pleased. “Don’t worry. I won’t.” Then she added in a whisper. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“Thanks. I hope my sweater is, too.”
Blackmail, Lillian thought, smiling to herself. She knew Beth would never give her away, but a little insurance never hurt.
THE TRAIN RIDE FROM BOSTON TO CAPE LIGHT TOOK NEARLY two hours. Lillian had a seat by the window and a book open in her lap but her thoughts kept drifting. She had been meeting Oliver at least once a week, sometimes more often when he came into the city and stayed over in the apartment his family owned. This was the third time Lillian had gone up to see him under the guise of visiting Charlotte.
Her parents didn’t seem to suspect anything unusual, though once they asked her if she ever ran into him in Newburyport. Lillian had assured them that she had not. She knew her uncle Joshua and aunt Rebecca were keeping close tabs on her, too. But with Charlotte’s help it was easy to arrange meetings with Oliver all weekend long.
Although Charlotte had been good at keeping her secret, Lillian knew that sooner or later, the truth would get out. Secrecy and subterfuge were not her nature. She had always prided herself on being straightforward and honest, no matter what the cost. All this sneaking around and lying to her parents made her feel guilty and unhappy. Though once she was with Oliver, it seemed worth all the trouble, and more.
She wanted to bring Oliver home to her family; she just couldn’t see how. They despised him, sight unseen, and had already forbidden her to see him. If they ever knew that she had been carrying on this romance, they would never trust her again. Lillian didn’t know what to do. She felt trapped, painted into a corner. Her feelings for Oliver were serious—she couldn’t deny them anymore—yet there didn’t seem to be any way her parents would accept him, so how could their relationship ever lead anywhere?
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