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Emma’s stomach groaned in protest after the long afternoon of appetizers and an evening of a multi-course dinner that the combined Pierce, Reyes, and Sinclair families had prepared at the Sinclair family beach home since the renovations to Connie and Jonathan’s kitchen were still being worked on. The day had been spent pleasurably with the families who had so much good news to celebrate with not only each other, but with Tracy and Emma and her mother, who had been invited to join them.
As Mrs. Patrick, Maggie’s housekeeper and their surrogate grandmother, rose to start clearing the dinner dishes, the four friends all jumped to their feet and urged the older woman to sit. She half-heartedly protested and said, “You girls spoil me.”
As Connie’s mom and Emma’s likewise rose, they once again waved off any help and began to bring all the plates into the kitchen to load. They had no sooner placed them on the counter to rinse when Jonathan and Owen came in with assorted plates precariously balanced on their arms.
Disbelief in her tones, Tracy said, “You ladies have taught them well.”
The two brothers laughed, unloaded the plates, and then went over to hug their wives.
Jonathan reached around and laid his hands on Connie’s baby belly and said, “Can’t take any chances with this precious bundle.”
“Glad to hear that. Now get your ass out there and finish bringing in the dishes so we can have dessert.”
“Dessert! I should have worn pants with an elastic waist,” Emma complained and rubbed her hands across her bloated midsection.
“You can’t disappoint my grandmother by not having dessert. She made your favorite flan,” Connie said and started rinsing and loading the dishwasher.
Connie’s grandmother’s flan was legendary and second only to Carlo who did a fantastic tropical version with mango in the flan and a to-die-for passion fruit glaze. Last Christmas Eve he’d brought it to Connie’s house in Union City and everyone had delighted in having a flan taste-off. She smiled as she recalled how Carlo had graciously given in and declared that the older woman’s flan was the hands down winner.
Carlo, she thought with a sigh as she spent the next few minutes helping to clear away what was left of the main courses and packed up doggie bags for everyone to take home. Even Robert Pierce, Jonathan and Owen’s father, who she had always pegged as kind of stuck-up and elitist, had insisted that someone make sure he got some of the roast pork, black beans, and rice to take home.
She did just that, making sure enough for another dinner was packed in a plastic container that would let the meal travel well. She made up several other containers with similar servings as well as others with the delicious roast turkey and stuffing that Maggie and Mrs. Patrick had prepared.
Before long everyone was back at the dining room table, sampling the many sweets that friends and family had brought. Italian pastries from Del Ponte’s in Sea Kiss courtesy of Tracy. The famous Reyes flan. A fruit cake that Mrs. Patrick had baked, carefully soaked with rum syrup, and tended to for months. Cuban pastries that Connie’s mom had ordered from her favorite bakery in Union City.
Since sweet treats demanded coffee, Jonathan and Owen took care of that for everyone, prepping all kinds of fancy coffees with the machine Owen had bought for Maggie, who was a coffee addict and was currently suffering caffeine withdrawal thanks to her pregnancy. Not long after that, an assortment of after-dinner drinks emerged, including a bottle of a very special Irish whiskey courtesy of Mrs. Patrick.
Emma sat back and took it all in, savoring the easy rapport of everyone around the table. Her mother must have felt the same since she leaned close and whispered, “This is a nice family you’ve made for yourself, Emma.”
Taken aback, she peered at her mother intently to see if she was upset, but there was no hint of it on her mother’s calm beautiful features. She was happy, something Emma hadn’t seen in a long time and she wondered if her mother’s new beau had something to do with it. “Are you seeing Bill tomorrow?”
Her mother nodded and scooped up a bit of the flan on her plate. “I am. Would you like to come with me? I’m sure he’d be pleased to have you join us.”
She looked away and around the table. It had been easier than she had thought to come tonight, mostly because she hadn’t been the only single person there. She wasn’t quite sure she was ready to be a third wheel at her mother’s and Bill’s Christmas celebration. “I appreciate the invite, but maybe some other time. It’s been really hectic at work and I’d love nothing better than a quiet day at home,” she lied.
Her mother arched a brow, obviously aware of the fib. Not that she called Emma on it thankfully.
The rest of the night passed in a blur and it wasn’t long before Emma was hugging everyone and saying her goodbyes at the front door. Connie’s family and Robert Pierce would be staying at the Pierce beach house while Bryce Sinclair, Maggie’s dad, would be staying with Maggie and Owen.
Tracy and she looped their arms around each other and trudged through an inch of freshly fallen snow as yet more flakes fell gently. Big fat flakes that stuck to their coats and lashes, making them smile and laugh at the sight they made in the short distance to their cars.
“Merry Christmas, Emma,” Tracy said and hugged her. “Are you doing anything special tomorrow?”
Normally Emma would spend it with her mom, but not this year. “Just going to Mass and to relax after that. Maybe hit my treadmill to work off some of the calories from that spread we just had. How about you?”
Tracy chuckled and rubbed her too lean midsection. “Definitely treadmill or a run if this lets up. My parents . . .” She hesitated and a hint of sadness crept onto her friend’s features. “They’re off skiing somewhere. Aspen, I think. Or maybe Switzerland. Don’t know and don’t care.”
But Emma knew her friend did and was about to offer to join her on Christmas day when Tracy said, “I’m going to pick up every real estate flier I can find to look for my new place. Hop on the Internet and look some more. Something nice and welcoming, like your cottage.”
Emma nodded, reached up, and smoothed her hand across Tracy’s hair to brush away some of the snow, but also offer comfort. “I told you that you were welcome to stay with me as long as you’d like. I have a spare bedroom.”
The sheen of tears filled Tracy’s eyes, but didn’t spill over. With a brittle smile, she said, “I appreciate that. I may take you up on that offer.”
“Good,” Emma said and hugged her friend hard once again before heading to her own car just a few steps away.
The snow was still light enough to just brush away with a quick swipe of the wipers and she quickly pulled out and with a few quick turns was driving through the heart of Sea Kiss. Much as it had been the day of Connie’s wedding, the snow combined with all the happy holiday lights and decorations gave the town an almost magical feel and she savored it since they normally didn’t get much snow along the Shore although this year was proving to be different. If they did get snow, it didn’t last for long unless it was a major blizzard thanks to the buffering effects of the ocean.
Mindful of the snow falling, but even more mindful of the love and magic that had enveloped her that night, she drove slowly, appreciating the sights of all the businesses and homes done up for the Christmas season. As she pulled into her driveway, she smiled at the dancing colors of the twinkling lights in her bushes and along the gutters and windows of her cottage. A big evergreen wreath gaily decorated with brightly hued glass balls hung at her door, greeting you, but somehow she couldn’t find the will to leave her car.
It had taken her years to save the money to buy the quaint cottage in need of repair. She’d spent many a free day or weekend steaming off 1950s wallpaper, repairing and painting walls and cabinets, and pulling up matted pile carpets to reveal gorgeous parquet floors. But she hadn’t done it alone. Her friends and Carlo had helped her transform the cottage into her home.
Tonight, after spending Christmas Eve with her mom, friends and their families, her home seemed suddenly empty to her much like she had felt the extreme emptiness within her at not having Carlo at her side the last two weeks the way he’d been there for so many years.
She wondered if he’d stayed up in his parents’ Ironbound home for the night or come back to Sea Kiss. And she wondered if he could ever forgive her for the way she’d treated him or if he’d be willing to give her another chance because sitting there in her car, staring at the home she’d put together with such care, she realized that it would never be complete without love. Love like she had found with Carlo.
She put the car in gear and rushed back out of the driveway.
***
CARLO’S HOME WAS AT the most northern end of Sea Kiss, not far from the Pierce and Sinclair beachfront mansions. She turned onto his street and slowed the car to a crawl. Her heart raced in her chest as she saw his van was parked in front of his house and the glow of a light from within indicated he might still be awake despite the almost midnight hour. With a quick K turn, she pulled up behind his van and parked. Taking a deep breath, she mustered her courage and hurried to his front door.
Her heart was thudding in her chest, so loudly she thought she might not need to knock for him to know she was there. Dragging in a deep breath of fresh snow-kissed air, she raised her hand to the fanciful brass seashell door knocker, lifted it, and then rapped it quickly. Decisively. The sound seemed to carry in the still of the night and from beyond the wooden door came footsteps and then the snick of the lock.
The door opened and suddenly he was there, looking more handsome than ever, but there was a downward set to his normally smiling mouth and sadness in the dark cocoa of his eyes. He jerked back for a moment, obviously surprised to see her there, before recovering. In the blink of an eye, the first hint of a smile came to his lips and his eyes lost some of the dullness she’d noticed a second earlier.
With a quirk of his lips, he said, “I didn’t know Frosty the Snowman made house calls.”
Emma glanced down at herself and realized that in the short time she’d been standing there the snow had gotten heavier and now covered her black pea jacket. She raised a hand to her head and encountered the hard crust of partially melting snow covering her hat and hair.
“I must look like what the cat dragged in,” she said and shifted on her heels back and forth, expectant. Anxious. Grateful he hadn’t slammed the door in her face right away.
“Maybe I should drag you in so you can defrost. Is that okay with you?” he said, obviously just as unsure of what was happening at that moment and what would follow.
“I’d like that,” she said and stepped over his threshold.
