by Nancy Thayer
“My sister and I took turns this year coming to the island, being with Dad, working with him, watching to see that he was okay. Delia liked being here in the summer, for the galas and the beach, but I realized I like being here all the time. Even on rainy days.”
They paused as the waiter set their seafood casseroles before them and poured more wine.
“I’ve gotten involved with some conservation organizations. I’ve been walking around the island, getting to know it, and some of the people here. It’s made me think about my own life. Being here on the island in the fall and winter…it’s such a change of pace from the city. It’s liberating.”
Christina bristled slightly. “Many of the island’s benefactors think they want to live here year-round. They join local boards and donate money…and they leave after New Year’s Eve. You haven’t been through a real winter yet,” Christina warned him. “The first three months of the year can be bleak. Gale-force winds that make it impossible to get on or off the island, no matter how urgent the need. No real nightlife except for movies at the Dreamland and Theatre Workshop productions and maybe lectures at the library. But nothing like what New York City has to offer.”
“Do you like it here in the winter?” Andy asked.
She took a moment to gather her thoughts. “It’s quiet here in the winter, and I like that. I can catch my breath, read, watch television, go out with friends. There’s a rhythm to life here. Summer is an enormous challenge. It’s crazy busy. Work and parties and no time to sleep! I like it, though. It’s very cool to see my summer friends return. Over the years I get to know families because they visit the store, and it’s a delight to see how much taller the children are after a winter away, if a kid’s two front teeth fell out, if a woman is pregnant.” Christina put her elbows on the table, folded her hands, and leaned her chin on them, letting herself sink into her memories. “Sometimes the college girls who helped me in the summer have graduated, or fallen in love and come into the shop to show off their engagement rings and fiancés. The shoulder seasons with the Daffodil Festival in April and the Cranberry Festival in October bring in a different crowd. You should come for Daffodil weekend. It’s so much fun, a parade of decorated antique cars out to ’Sconset, and then everyone has the most remarkable tailgate picnics and the dogs are wearing collars made of daffodils, and the cars are absolutely smothered with daffodils.” Christina stopped. “I’m talking too much.”
“Not at all. This is fascinating.”
Christina took a deep breath. “Okay, then, I’ve scrambled the seasons, but I’ll get back to winter. After Christmas, we have time to slow down, have dinner with friends, walk on the beach—even in a parka because the waves can be so magnificent. So I guess I have to say I love it here in all the seasons. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
Andy nodded. “It all sounds great. I haven’t been here long, I know, but I feel like I get the island.” He set down his fork, folded his arms on the table, and leaned forward, his face intense, his eyes shining. “I’d like to start a philanthropic fund to help the conservation groups on the island. Not just for the land, but for the ocean, too. The island is a microcosm of what’s happening all up and down the East Coast. I’d like to see Bittlesman and Company pivot from making money toward giving money to organizations that need it. I want our company to make a difference in the world.”
“What does your father want?”
Andy leaned back. Frustration darkened his eyes. “He’s an old-fashioned man. He was raised to work hard and be frugal. For years, the high point of his life was being known as someone in the Forbes 400. His stroke made him reflect, but it’s not in his nature to be generous.”
I know, Christina thought, but kept that thought to herself.
“He wants me to stay in New York. He wants me to do all the personal meetings and schmoozing, to be the face of the company.” Andy’s fists tightened on the table. “I’d like to live here. I’ve told him that if I lived on the island, I could be here for him, check in with him now and then, even though our housekeeper, Mrs. Harris, seems quite competent and is surprisingly kind and patient with him. I think I could tear him away from his computer and his obsession with making money and help him realize the pleasure of generosity.”
“Are you saying you’re thinking of living here permanently?” she asked.
“I am.”
A shadow passed over his eyes. She said softly, “But something is holding you back.”
Andy took a few bites of the casserole. She liked it that he took his time before answering.
“I don’t want to make my father so angry he has a heart attack. But I don’t want to live in the city. And I don’t want to marry Anastasiya Belousova so I can attract more tycoons to invest with our company.”
Christina gasped. “Whoa. How did we get to Anastasiya Belousova?” She’d seen the model’s pictures on the front of all the fashion magazines.
“I was engaged to her.”
Okay, Christina thought, that’s the kind of woman Andy Bittlesman dates.
“She’s a model.”
“I know.”
“So she’s used to a certain type of life. Private planes to Aruba, Christmas in Paris, that sort of thing. In a way, Anastasiya’s like my father. She has always worked hard, and she thrives on having the best of everything at her fingertips. Pouilly-Fuissé and oysters from room service at the Plaza. Private jet with friends to ski at Aspen. Seats at the Oscars.”
“I’ve seen her face in magazines,” Christina admitted. “She’s very beautiful.”
“True. She’s also always hungry and dissatisfied with her looks. She’s twenty-seven and in despair because she’s so old.”
Christina laughed but suddenly went serious. “I shouldn’t laugh. I know that can be a real problem among women. Does she like Nantucket?”
Andy grinned ruefully. “Yes, she does. For about two days in August, when she’s got lots of galas and parties to attend.”
“You make her sound shallow, Andy, but you must love her if you were engaged to her.”
“I did love her. She’s nice, and smart, and clever. She’s not just a thoughtless mannequin. We got along really well when we were in her world. And I have to admit, it’s glamorous to date a top model. When we were together, life was exciting. I felt glamorous by association. But I couldn’t keep up with the whirlwind of her life, and she disdained the quiet of this island life. I guess the truth is that I changed, partly because I got tired of everything that she lived for. And she didn’t want to give up all the glitz and prestige to walk on brick streets that snagged her high heels. We broke it off this summer.”
“Do you miss her?”
“I don’t think so. Being with her was like being in a hot air balloon or on a roller coaster. It’s fun for a while, but you wouldn’t want to live your life there. At least I wouldn’t. To be honest, she was exhausting.” Andy grinned. “Enough about all that. What about you? Why aren’t you married yet?”
Christina shrugged. “I haven’t met the right man, I guess. I did date a guy on the island for a long time. Jamie Locke. We really liked each other. We saw each other every summer, and it seemed we knew everything about each other. Maybe that’s why, no matter how hard we tried, we couldn’t be more than friends.”
“Where is he now?” Andy asked.
Christina smiled and looked at her watch. “I imagine Jamie’s at home with his wife, Patty, trying to get their two-year-old twins to go to bed.”
They laughed together. I hope Anastasiya moves to the moon, Christina’s IC thought.
* * *
—
After dinner, they walked down Union Street to Main Street, admiring the window displays.
They stopped to study the books in Mitchell’s Book Corner. The soft glow of the lamps and the small lights on the Christmas trees lining
the streets illuminated the brick sidewalk.
Andy said, “I have a letter for you.”
“A letter? For me? How odd.”
Andy took it out of the breast pocket of his wool overcoat and handed it to Christina.
The letter was on Oscar Bittlesman’s letterhead, which stopped Christina’s heart for a moment. Oscar Bittlesman, or his enormous company, owned her shed.
Surely Oscar Bittlesman wouldn’t have his son deliver a business letter about a rent hike in such a casual manner.
She unfolded the letter. The words were written in blue magic marker, in a tidy, uneven print.
Dear Christina,
I would like to work with you in your shop every day. Not for the entire day, just for a few hours when you are really busy. I know how messy the shelves get after a crowd of people has come through. I am a tidy person. I possess my own feather duster. I could bring that to your shop. (Not that I think your shop is dusty.)
I would be grateful to be paid five dollars a day for three hours of work. Or whatever you think is appropriate.
Your Friend,
Wink Bittlesman Lombard
Christina smiled. “Did you see this?”
She handed it to Andy, who quickly read it.
“She’s a Bittlesman, all right,” Andy said. “Nine years old and negotiating for pay.”
“What would Delia say if I agreed to this?”
Andy shook his head. “Honestly, I’m sure she’d be grateful. Okay, scratch that, my sister is rarely grateful. But she’s got to keep going into the city for this divorce mess. Our father, the old curmudgeon, hides himself away in his office all day. I’m spending as much time on the island as possible so I can be here for both of them.” He handed the letter back to Christina. “I’ve taken Wink to Great Point and I’ve played Monopoly with her, but I’m afraid I bore her.”
She tapped it against her lip, thinking. “Actually, she could be of some help. What worries me is my responsibility. I mean, what if she wanders off and doesn’t return and I don’t know where she’s gone?”
“She’s a serious little girl,” Andy said. “We could stipulate that she can’t leave the shop during her work hours.”
Christina threw back her head as she exploded with laughter. “Stipulate! To a nine-year-old girl!” Smiling, she linked her arm with Andy’s and started back to his car. “Tell her that if it’s okay with her mom, she is welcome to work with me.” She glanced up under her lashes at Andy. “Why don’t you help her draw up a contract? Stipulating hours, salary, and the number and duration of bathroom breaks.”
Andy grinned. “I think it will do her a lot of good to hang out with you.”
Christina nodded. “I concur.”
Walking back along Orange Street and down Mulberry Street to Andy’s car, they held hands. Through the leather of his gloves and the wool of her mittens, Christina felt the surge of their physical attraction. She thought he would kiss her. She wanted him to kiss her.
But he drove her home, walked her to the door, and politely refused to come in for coffee.
“I know you have to work tomorrow,” he said. “But I’d like to see you again soon.”
“I’d like that, too,” Christina said. Go in the house, her IC ordered her. Don’t stay here gazing at him like a lovesick teenager!
“Thank you for a lovely night,” Christina said, and gave Andy a little wave and went, alone, into her house.
December was always a crazy month. Christina’s Toy Shop kept her running, waiting on customers, unpacking inventory, organizing the shelves, keeping track of sales on credit cards and sales in check or cash, rushing to the bank. The town held lots of festive events, and it seemed everyone Christina knew had a Christmas party.
Wink showed up at the shop at precisely one o’clock.
When Wink arrived, Christina was already surrounded by customers. At the back of the store, a couple was arguing about the moral impact of pirates. The husband wanted to buy his son several pirate items. The wife said pirates were nothing but thieves and she didn’t want their son to think stealing was okay.
Two other customers were in line, waiting for Christina to ring up their purchases. Wink slipped down the narrow aisle between shoppers with the grace of an otter. She slid the contract onto a shelf in Christina’s inner space behind the counter. She swooped to the counter on Christina’s right, an array of small bins filled with petite, attention-catching items: white rope bracelets, marbles, miniature fairies, seashell angels, glass whales, and tiny, exquisite mermaid dolls.
During the past rush hour, all the minuscule objects had gotten mixed up in the bins. Wink set about organizing them.
Of course, the sight of a child so seriously moving the objects drew the customers’ attention.
“Stocking stuffers!” one woman cried, and even more people clustered around Wink.
While Wink was there, Christina sold a pile of marbles, dolls, and whales.
After an hour, the store emptied out. Do I dare? Christina wondered. She always locked her shop when she had to rush across the wharf to the bathroom at the end of the shingled shops. She had to trust Wink…and she had to use the bathroom!
“Wink, I’m going to run to the restroom. It’s right over there—”
“I know where it is.”
“Good. Could you come behind the counter and stand right here by the cash register? If someone comes in, tell them I’ll be right back.”
Wink’s shoulders straightened. “Don’t worry. I know what to do.”
Christina raced off to the restroom at the side of the dock.
When she returned, Wink was still behind the counter. Two teenagers were debating over which wooden ferry to buy for their brother.
“Does your family come to the island with a car?” Wink asked.
“Yes,” the teenage girl replied. “At the beginning of the summer. We take it back when we leave in the fall.”
“Then you don’t want the ferry you’re holding. That’s the fast ferry. You need the bigger car ferry. The one in the corner.”
“Oh, right! That’s smart. Thanks.” The girl picked up the wooden replica of the M/V Eagle. “We’ll take this one.”
Wink sleekly slid out from behind the counter and Christina slid in to ring up the sale. When the customers left, Christina said to Wink, “It’s a good thing I’m not paying you on commission!” She was sure Wink knew what commission meant.
Whenever the shop was empty, Christina and Wink scurried about tidying and restocking the shelves.
“Have you met any kids your age?” Christina asked one bright afternoon.
Wink didn’t speak. She merely shook her head.
“The town puts on a Christmas pageant at the Congregational Church. I’m sure they could use another angel.”
“I’m not an angel. And we don’t go to church.”
“Too bad. Churches are gorgeous this time of year. Have you seen the Festival of Trees?”
“I’ve seen the trees on Main Street.”
“Inside the Whaling Museum, there are dozens of trees decorated in all sorts of fabulous ways.”
“That’s nice,” Wink said softly.
“Maybe your mother could take you. I’m sure she’d enjoy it.”
“I don’t know when she’s coming back to the island.”
“Well, what about asking your grandfather to take you?”
“He doesn’t exactly get into the holiday spirit.” More quietly, she added, “Plus he’s not wild about doing things with me.”
“Maybe your uncle…” Christina began.
“Maybe you could take me,” Wink suggested in a voice so quiet it was almost a whisper.
“Hmm,” Christina said. “I think that’s a great idea! Let me check the calendar and we’ll make a d
ate.”
Wink began humming Christmas carols as she worked.
* * *
—
Even with Wink’s help, Christina worked hard that day. When she arrived to the silence of her home, she collapsed on the sofa. Mittens, her enormous mixed-breed cat, immediately jumped on her belly and purred loudly, glad Christina was home. Christina put her feet up on a pillow and closed her eyes, relaxing.
Of course that was the moment her cell buzzed.
She glanced at the caller ID. It was Andy, so she should take the call, because it might be about Wink.
Who was she kidding? She would take the call because it might be Andy asking to see her again.
Andy had a lovely voice. “I know you were busy today. Wink told me. How about dinner tomorrow night?”
“I have a better idea. How about you take Wink shopping for some pretty clothes, and then we’ll all three go to the Festival of Trees at the Whaling Museum, and then we’ll go out to dinner?”
After a moment of silence, Andy said, “Um, I don’t know how to take a little girl shopping for clothes.”
“That’s easy. Take her to Kidding Around on Broad Street and ask Erin to help you. Then take her to Murray’s Toggery, second floor. Wink needs some shoes with sparkles.”
“Okay, but all this is with the understanding that I get another date with you alone, without Wink.”
“I’ll sign a contract to that effect,” Christina said.
* * *
—
Clothes may not make the man, Christina thought the next evening, but clothes make the girl happy.
Christina, Andy, and Wink were strolling through the enormous redbrick Whaling Museum, gazing in wonder at the magnificently or humorously decorated evergreens. Well, Christina thought, Wink was spending as much time admiring her reflection in the glass cases as she was admiring the trees. Wink wore a black velvet dress with white tights and sparkling red Mary Janes. She wore a glittering silver headband Christina had given her. She was almost beside herself with happiness.