Christmas on Honeysuckle Lane Page 11

  “Yes,” Emma said, “that could be it. Sadly, I’ll never know.”

  “As you might imagine,” Morgan said, “I have a lot of experience observing people and their attachment to objects. I can’t tell you how often someone comes in and tells me he’s been on a search for a table or a chest of drawers or a lamp exactly like the one his aunt or his grandmother had in her living room. Some of these people are so intense about recovering that bit of their past, as if once they get their hands on the object their memories will, I don’t know, come to life again. I mean, the good feelings associated with the memories.”

  “But you can’t revive the past, can you?” Emma said wonderingly.

  “No. But you can respect and even treasure it . . . if a reverence for what’s gone by doesn’t get out of hand and prevent you from living in the here and now.”

  “And,” Emma said, “from looking forward to the future.”

  Morgan smiled and picked up the second largest of the sterling silver platters, and as she watched him mentally assess the condition of the piece, Emma realized that she found it as easy to talk to Morgan Shelby as it was to talk to Maureen.

  “So, any further thoughts on Mom’s silver?” Emma asked.

  “Like I said before, the platters are lovely. And they’ve been kept in near perfect condition from what I can tell. It won’t take me more than a few days to complete an official appraisal.”

  “That’s fine,” Emma told him. “We’re not in a rush.” Though, she thought, my brother might argue that.

  Morgan nodded. “I’ll call you when it’s done. On another note entirely, would you like to go for coffee sometime, or a drink? Unless your holiday dance card is entirely filled?”

  Emma laughed. “That’s my brother’s plan! He’s a veritable Christmas elf. But yes. I’d like that.”

  “The Angry Squire makes a slew of traditional holiday drinks,” Morgan told her. “The consensus is that they’re very authentic.”

  “Sure,” Emma said. “I’m always in the mood for grog.”

  “Grog. Sounds ghastly to me. I’ll have the eggnog.”

  Emma laughed. “Well, to be honest, I wouldn’t know grog if it were staring me in the face. That’s a frightening thought, grog staring back at you from the cup. I think you serve grog in a cup and not a glass, though I don’t know why I think that.”

  “Maybe we should both stick to wine. How about the evening of the ninth?”

  “I’m actually open that night,” she told Morgan. Once again she shook his hand, and left the shop. And she realized that she was smiling.

  CHAPTER 20

  The school’s auditorium was already almost full by the time Andie joined her family.

  “I had to park three blocks away,” she told Anna Maria, who waved her over. “Danny was right. It looks like everyone in Oliver’s Well came out for tonight’s performance.”

  Anna Maria smiled. “Something about kids in costumes makes even dyed in the wool Grinches all mushy.”

  Andie waved to her sister, who was talking to a woman she recognized as the local branch librarian, Lillian Ross. Daniel, a few yards away, was listening to Rumi, who seemed to be telling him something of great importance, if the expression on her face was any indication.

  “Andie.” Andie turned to find her former husband waiting with open arms. They hugged warmly.

  “It’s been too long,” Bob said, “and that’s not a criticism.”

  “I know.” Andie smiled up at him. Bob was a good six inches taller than she was. “You look well.”

  “As do you.” Bob took her elbow and directed her to three empty seats at the end of a row. “I thought we could sit here,” he said. “With Rumi.”

  Andie glanced to where her brother still stood listening to her daughter. And she thought about the unpleasant conversation with Daniel the other morning and wondered why her brother chose to ignore the fact that she and Bob were friends. It saddened her that her brother wasn’t able to acknowledge that she was a good person. Still, she had forgiven him for lashing into her about her divorce from Bob. Not that Daniel had asked for forgiveness, but forgiveness was necessary if you were ever to move ahead. And if you ever stopped moving ahead, well, then you’d be dead. In the words of the Buddha: “Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else. You are the one who gets burned.”

  The lights in the auditorium dimmed, signaling the imminent start of the pageant. Rumi hurried over to sit on the other side of Bob; as she did she nodded at her mother. A moment later the curtain rose on the opening act. Andie assumed that parents had been enlisted to construct the rudimentary scenery—a structure meant to resemble a three-sided barn, a backdrop painted dark blue with a disproportionately giant star to one side—and clearly a child’s hand was behind the gaudily decorated pine tree to the right of the barn. When it comes to Christmas, Andie thought with a smile, historical accuracy could always be sacrificed.

  Andie glanced over at Rumi. And she remembered what it had been like to hold her baby daughter in her arms and to feel next to nothing, to feel as if the child was a complete and utter stranger. Postpartum depression. A nice neat phrase to describe an evil thing that deprived a mother of taking joy in her child, an evil thing that deprived the child of her mother’s full devotion.

  Andie’s attention was brought back to the moment by the arrival of Sophia onstage. As the Virgin Mary she was dressed in a long blue robe with what Andie took to be a construction paper halo attached to the back of her head. “There is no room for us in the inn,” she told the audience very loudly and very clearly. “What are we going to do, Joseph?” The boy playing Joseph responded in a not so loud or clear voice that they would spend the night in the barn. Andie felt tears come to her eyes. How earnest the children were! And how proud their parents must be.

  Andie looked again at Daniel and Anna Maria in the row ahead. She thought about what Daniel had said to her and Emma the other day, that he and Anna Maria tried to balance protecting their children from unhappiness with introducing them to the fact of life’s challenges, and indeed, Andie thought, they had done a fine job so far. From what Andie could tell they were hands-on without being helicopter parents, supportive without being smothering. She saw her brother take his wife’s hand and Anna Maria wipe a tear from her eye. And in that one gesture—Daniel taking his wife’s hand—Andie saw the true love that existed between the couple.

  The first act ended with the baby Jesus safely born and receiving gifts and adoration from the Three Wise Men of the East. The lights came up and voices rose with laughter and praise for the children’s performance. Andie looked up to Bob, who put his arm around her and squeezed.

  Rumi got up from her seat next to her father. “I played Mary one year,” she said to Andie. “When I was in fourth grade.”

  Andie smiled. “I know,” she said. “Your father sent me pictures.”

  “Oh,” Rumi said. “Right. I’m going to go say hello to my old history teacher.”

  Andie watched as Rumi went off toward the front of the auditorium. How much of her daughter’s life she had missed by choosing to leave Oliver’s Well—the school pageants, the soccer games, her daughter’s first date, that party back in June!

  “Want to stretch your legs?” Bob asked, interrupting her melancholic thoughts.

  “Yes,” Andie told him, rising from her seat and putting out her hand for him to take. “Let’s get some air.”

  CHAPTER 21

  During the first part of the pageant Emma had been entirely focused on Marco in his role of shepherd. The entire time he was on stage the poor thing looked as if he was about to bolt. His eyes seemed unnaturally wide beneath the cloth band around his forehead. His costume, a beige bedsheet belted with a wide piece of brown fabric, threatened to trip him up. Luckily his part didn’t require him to tramp around too much. His grip on the shepherd’s crook—probably made of papier-mâché, Emma thought, something that couldn’t do
much damage if accidentally wielded—was fierce, as if it alone was keeping stage fright at bay.

  With each passing moment Emma’s heart had further swelled with love for her brother’s children. Having kids of her own had never been a real option for Emma; she had known that about herself from a very young age. But she appreciated children, enjoyed being around them and listening to their often very interesting take on the world, watching how they interacted with people of varying ages. It really would be a wonderful thing to spend more time with Daniel’s kids before they were entirely grown. And moving back to Oliver’s Well would allow that.

  Now, in the second half of the pageant, Emma watched with a smile the students’ acknowledgment of Hanukkah. A big poster of a menorah was held high by two boys while a girl gave a brief explanation of the holiday’s origins. “It’s also called the Festival of Lights,” she told the audience, and then a small group of children sang a few songs. Emma recognized “I Have a Little Dreidel,” but not a song called “Eight Candles.” When the children had taken their bows, another young girl walked onto the stage holding before her a flag in black, red, and green. In a loud and clear voice she explained the origins and meaning of Kwanzaa. “The black in the flag represents the African people,” she went on. “The red represents the people’s struggle, and the green represents the future and the hope that comes from that struggle.” This presentation was followed by the singing of two songs written to celebrate the annual holiday that began on December twenty-sixth and ended on January first. Emma was glad that while Oliver’s Well was currently home to only a small group of African Americans, the town made a point of honoring those families’ culture.

  When this group of children had completed its performance, all of the students who had participated in the pageant crowded onto the stage to take their bows to the thunderous applause of families and friends. Daniel, Emma saw, was literally beaming with pride. When the applause had finally faded away the children came clamoring off the stage in a rush of happy laughter and high spirits.

  “How was I, Daddy?” Marco asked, throwing his arms around his father’s waist.

  Sophia seemed about to jump out of her long blue robe with excitement. “I was so nervous!” she cried. “But I didn’t forget my lines!”

  “You were both wonderful,” Anna Maria assured them. “Just great.”

  Emma gave her niece a hug. “It was as good as a professional performance, Sophia. Congratulations.”

  Next Andie encircled Sophia and Marco together in her arms. Emma wondered if it was difficult for her sister, not having seen her own daughter perform in what must have been a very similar production all those years ago. But most likely Andie knew exactly how to handle difficult emotional experiences.

  “Come on, everybody. I want a group photo.” Daniel called to a man a few feet away, surrounded by his own celebrating family. “Ray, could you take a shot of us?”

  Ray smiled and joined the Reynoldses, and Daniel handed him his iPhone.

  “Okay, everyone,” Ray said. “Squish in.”

  Andie stood to one side of Bob and Rumi to his other; he had an arm around each woman. Next to Rumi were grouped Daniel and his wife and kids. Emma stood next to them, her arm around Sophia’s shoulders.

  “Say cheese!” Ray instructed.

  Emma shouted along with the rest and shouted again when Daniel’s friend asked for a second shot “just in case.”

  “I’ll e-mail the photo to everyone,” Daniel promised after Ray had handed him back his iPhone.

  Anna Maria put her hand to her neck. “Maybe you should do some Photoshopping first, Daniel. Use the saggy neck filter for me.”

  “I’ll take the crow’s feet eliminator,” Emma joked.

  “Oh, no,” he said. “I want this photo to show everyone as he or she really is. This is the real Reynolds family.”

  With the kids dressed as ancient Israelites, Emma thought. But she didn’t protest. It was a nice moment. And she realized that she didn’t miss Ian being there at all. It had been the right decision, ending things. And it had been the right thing to say yes to her brother’s invitation to celebrate Christmas as a family.

  “Cake and coffee back at our house,” Anna Maria announced. “See you all there in a few.”

  Emma, grateful the evening wasn’t at an end, gathered up her coat and bag and left the school building for the parking lot.

  CHAPTER 22

  All but Rumi and Bob, who were going to a potluck dinner at a neighbor’s house, gathered at Daniel and Anna Maria’s house after the pageant. The children were still bouncing with excitement, recounting their big moments and laughing about the near mishap when the Christmas tree on stage had threatened to topple over when one of the Three Wise Men had stumbled into it. Daniel felt as if his heart would burst with pride. He was so very grateful for the gift of his children. For the gift of his entire family, really, even when they didn’t conform to the sort of warm or responsible behavior he wished they would.

  “Have you met with all the realtors I identified?” he asked Emma, handing her a cup of espresso.

  Emma took a sip of the coffee before answering. “No,” she said. “Not yet. I decided to do some further research online before I contacted them directly.”

  Daniel shook his head. “But there’s no need; I already did that. I told you, I gave you my short list.”

  “Okay, Danny. If you feel certain, I’ll start interviewing them first thing tomorrow.”

  Daniel took a seat in the armchair next to the couch. “Good, because the house has got to go. I don’t want to spend another year looking after it. It’s a drain on my time and energy.”

  “It will all get done, Daniel,” Anna Maria said, passing a plate to Emma and one to Andie. “This is Daniel’s famous triple chocolate cake. Or should I say infamous.”

  “What do you think?” Daniel asked his sisters after they had each taken a bite.

  “Decadent,” Emma said.

  “Divine,” Andie said.

  Anna Maria smiled. “Delicious.”

  Daniel felt a surge of pleasure. It meant a lot to him to make people happy, even if sometimes he inexplicably failed. “It’s hard to go wrong with triple chocolate anything,” he said. “Anyway, I wanted to tell you that Anna Maria and I are catering the holiday party at the Lower Waterville Country Club tomorrow night. It’s a last minute thing. The chef was called out of town. A family crisis of some sort. Anyway, we’ll get the help of her staff and we get to use the club’s professional kitchen, which should be fun. It’s at least double the size of ours.”

  “Congratulations, Danny,” Emma said. “Sounds like an important gig.”

  “If by important you mean it pays well, you’re right.”

  “How long were Mom and Dad members of the country club?” Andie asked.

  “Until the day Dad died,” Daniel told them. “After that, Mom didn’t renew the membership. She had no interest in socializing without him, though it might have done her good to see more people. But then, after the pneumonia and the staph infection that took forever to control, she just didn’t have the energy for the drive to and from Waterville, though I would have taken her, of course.”

  “I never liked going to the country club for Sunday brunch when we were growing up,” Andie said. “It felt like an oppressive environment. I was always afraid of doing something wrong, using the wrong fork or spilling my soda.”

  Emma smiled. “I kind of enjoyed it. I liked being around all the adults. I liked getting dressed up. And I liked looking at the women who wore big jewelry and who carried obviously designer bags. I wanted to be one of them someday. What that says about me, I’m not sure.”

  “And I liked eating food we usually didn’t eat at home,” Daniel said. “From what I remember, the menu wasn’t exotic, but they did serve some dishes Mom never made, like swordfish. For some reason Mom didn’t like to cook swordfish.”

  “And Mom was good about letting us order whatever we want
ed,” Emma said. “I first tried veal piccata at the club.”

  “But I was never allowed a second dessert.” Andie grinned. “That would have been an outrage!”

  “Anyway,” Daniel said, “the reason I mentioned the party is that I’d like you both to be there.”

  “But we’re not members,” Emma pointed out. “Isn’t there a strict policy about nonmembers not being allowed to attend special events?”

  “I was able to get two tickets,” Daniel said with a shrug. “It wasn’t difficult. You are, after all, the Reynolds daughters, and I am saving their necks by stepping in.”

  “Ah,” Emma said. “I see.”

  Andie scraped the last of the icing off her plate with her fork. “I have to warn you, Danny, I have nothing decent to wear to a fancy event. It was the last thing I thought I’d be doing this holiday season.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Andie,” Anna Maria said. “The club has loosened the old dress code. You’ll be fine in anything neat and clean as long as it’s not jeans and sneakers. Anyway, there’s always Caro’s favorite store, The Sophisticated Lady. For a few hundred dollars you could scoop up something nice you’ll never wear again.”

  “We’ll go to the party,” Emma said, “but I think we’ll skip The Sophisticated Lady.”

  “Good. I mean, about coming to the party. Did you get the picture from the pageant?” Daniel asked.

  Anna Maria laughed. “Daniel, you just sent it a few minutes ago!”

  Emma pulled out her iPhone. “There it is. Thanks, Danny. The kids look so cute in their costumes.”

  “I remember Mom hiring a seamstress to make a costume for a play I was part of in third or fourth grade,” Andie said. “Most mothers made their kids’ costumes, but Mom wanted only the best for her offspring.”

  “What was the play?” Daniel asked.

  “Aladdin and the Magic Lamp. At least, Oliver’s Well Primary School’s version of it.”

  Daniel nodded. “I’m sure Mom and Dad took as many pictures of the production as I did tonight. It’s so important to mark special moments, to memorialize them,” he said firmly. “Mom and Dad understood that. In fact, we should go through the old films and photo albums while you’re both here.”