Chapter Eight

 

An hour later, Emma returned to the inn. She was immersed in Christmas after she entered the wreathed front door into the elegant silver and gold foyer. “Joy to the World” was playing throughout, and the rich scents of evergreen, cinnamon, and vanilla tickled her nose and teased her down the hall to the kitchen.

Helen Olsen was busy drying Mrs. Pennebeck’s silver chafing dishes, platters, and serving dishes. They would be used for the hot and cold canapes dotted throughout the various parlors in the early evening before the main cocktail buffet would begin at ten o’clock in the dining room.

Helen gave Emma a welcoming smile. “Why, Emma, land sakes. You get prettier every year.”

Emma smiled. Helen was a fixture at the inn’s holiday events for as long as she could remember. “How are those six grandchildren of yours?”

“There are going to be seven pretty soon,” Mrs. Pennebeck called out as she put the finishing touches on a striking arrangement of dazzling crystal spikes and three dozen white roses in a magnum silver champagne bucket.

Emma’s mother had created this particular stunning centerpiece every year for the party. However, she immediately noticed something was new. The edges of each rose petal were coated in crystals as if they were sprinkled with fairy dust. “I love the crystals.”

Mrs. Pennebeck smiled. “I do too. I thought we could use a few changes this year.” She turned to Helen. “You’ve been standing for hours now. Why don’t you go back to my apartment and put your feet up awhile? We have three hours until our guests arrive, and everything is on schedule.”

“Yes. I will do that. Emma, you should rest too. We’re counting on you to be the belle of the party tonight. Rumor has it, handsome Dr. Cutter is quite taken with you…again.” Helen patted her mink brown top knot and sashayed her compact body out of the room with a giggle.

“Join me for a cup of tea?” Mrs. Pennebeck took down two mugs and put the matching black and red poinsettia teapot on the table. Carefully, she scooted the silver champagne cooler aside. With a deep sigh, she settled herself into the chair.

“Hmm. Everything smells good.” Emma joined her.

Mrs. Pennebeck squeezed her hand. “You know, darling. I don’t want you to think because we are having this big shindig tonight, we don’t miss her, because all of us do. In my heart, I know she will be here with us tonight.” She gave Emma an understanding look. “Christmas Eve was her favorite. Charlie, on the other hand, would be ecstatic if he never had to go to a big do ever again. He and your mother were quite different when it came to socializing.”

Emma took a sip of her tea. On the surface, it didn’t seem like Charlie and her mother shared much in common. Finally, she worked up the courage to ask, “Would you tell me about them, my mother and Charlie?”

Mrs. Pennebeck hesitated while carefully returning her teacup to its saucer; her usual animated expression became wistful. “They’d known each other since kindergarten, dated through high school and college. The two of them were inseparable. Did everything together. During their last few months before college graduation, they argued constantly. Then, a few weeks after they graduated, they broke up. Everyone was shocked. Your mother moved to New York and, two years later, got herself engaged.”

“So it ended then?” Emma wanted their story to have a happy ending. But of course, it couldn’t. If it had, her name would have been Emma Wentworth.

“I’m afraid so.”

An inexplicable sadness settled over her. What had driven Charlie and her mother apart? She and Jake had a parallel history. They grew up together. His family lived next door to her gran. They were inseparable every summer, starting when she was six years old. It wasn’t until she graduated from the University of Vermont that she’d finally had enough of his high-handed manipulation and left him in California. What had soured her mother’s and Charlie’s love story?

Mrs. Pennebeck’s smooth forehead creased with lines of concern. “I am sorry you lived through your mother’s illness alone.”

“I wasn’t always alone.” Yet there were times when the solitude and loneliness crushed her. Taking Mrs. Pennebeck’s warm hand in hers, she said, “Every time you visited, Mother’s spirits soared. I had to read and reread your gossipy emails to her, and the outrageous jokes you texted were hilarious.” Emma took a last sip of the soothing peppermint tea, relieved her mother no longer suffered.

“Taking care of my mother for those last two years was a chance to show her how much I loved her. Mother did such a great job of raising and caring for me. I wished to repay her by doing the same.” Of course, there were part-time caretakers, allowing Emma to continue working. Their hourly rate was almost higher than hers.

After finishing their tea, Mrs. Pennebeck gathered the teapot and mugs, and Emma carried their dishes to the sink. “Are the Waites bringing their grandson tonight?” she asked.

“Yes, they are. I haven’t seen him since he visited last summer. Such a dear sweet boy.” She dried her hands with the dishtowel. “Such a sad situation. Grandparents having to fight for custody of their grandchild to save him from his own mother’s dereliction.”

Emma agreed but knew it wasn’t uncommon for aging grandparents to have the care and responsibility of their much younger grandchildren. Was not having children having Mr. and Mrs. Pennebeck’s choice or fate’s decision? Anyone who saw her in the presence of children would see she adored them.

Mrs. Pennebeck glanced at her watch. “Time for you to shoo. Go get beautified, my girl.”

“Mother used to say the same thing,” she said, then headed for the back stairs to the favorite blue and white bedroom—her sanctuary.

After turning on the Christmas tree, Emma opened her travel jewelry case and removed her mother’s treasured Mikimoto pearls. She’d borrowed them before for special occasions like graduations. Now they belonged exclusively to Emma, a bittersweet rite of passage. Wearing them tonight for the party would have pleased her mother.

Enough sad thoughts. Tonight was Christmas Eve. Also, Emma’s favorite night of the year. How could she possibly be happy and sad at the same time?

Her emotions seemed to be pinging all over the place. Soon there would be an elegant, festive gala waiting for her downstairs. Her mother would be the first to scold her for being sad.

Emma’s strapless, sexy cocktail dress lay on the bed. The pearls would add an air of elegance and sophistication to her look. She was anxious to see the expression in Jake’s eyes the instant she made her entrance in the daring black dress.

It had been a long time since another man looked at her the way he used to. It shouldn’t matter how he looked at her, but it did.