Christmas
Soon after Thanksgiving, the weather grew cold and the foliage dry and dull. Addy looked out of her kitchen window at the gray late November skyline speckled with black India ink silhouettes of trees. Fall had been brilliant, but now the season of darkness was approaching. A mood of depression suddenly overtook Addy. What if Helena decided to go back to New York? She must surely be tired of Addy’s problems and humdrum life in Chester. What would Addy do without Helena?
At that moment, the telephone rang and Addy ran to get it. Helena was the only one who called regularly.
“Hi kid. How’re you doing today?” Helena asked.
Addy’s voice cracked, “I’m fine.”
Helena could tell Addy was not fine. “What’s wrong? Is it the beast again?”
“No. I’m just feeling a little down today, that’s all,” Addy replied.
“Well, this should cheer you up. How about coming out to the farm for Christmas? We had such a great time on Thanksgiving, why not more of the same?”
Addy’s spirits lifted. “The farm must be beautiful at Christmas, like a Currier and Ives painting. Truthfully, I was just worrying that you might be getting sick of living here, and you might decide to go back to New York.”
Helena laughed. “Don’t you worry your pretty little head off about that. I’m not leaving any time soon. Want to go Christmas shopping today?”
“Sure,” Addy replied. “Lionel doesn’t care what I do now, as long as I’m hanging around with you. What time?”
“See you at one o’clock,” Helena said. “We’ll have a fabulous time.”
Rushing, Addy finished cleaning up the kitchen and straightened the rest of the house. It’s amazing how fast you can get ready when you know you’re going somewhere fun, Addy thought cheerfully. Her depression had already lifted.
As soon as Helena pulled up in front of the house, Addy was ready to go. She hopped into the car, and Helena said, “I’m famished. Want to have lunch by the ocean? I adore the Essex Inn.”
Over bowls of steaming, thick New England clam chowder and plates of crispy crab cakes, the two friends discussed plans for the upcoming holiday. Helena quizzed Addy about what the children wanted for Christmas. Because Lionel established a strict budget to buy Christmas presents, Addy could rarely purchase the things the kids wrote on their Christmas lists.
Trying not to appear greedy, Addy insisted that she had enough money to purchase all the gifts; by now, Helena knew when Addy was not being completely honest with her.
“Come on, Addy, I know how cheap Lionel is. I am sure it would be impossible to shop on the skimpy stipend you will get from Scrooge.”
Addy laughed. Helena always chose such humorous but true words to describe Lionel. Helena had gotten into the habit of ordering cocktails for both of them with lunch. Addy could not hold much alcohol and inevitably got tipsy. Helena saw this as a perfect opportunity to ask Addy, “If, say, you had unlimited funds, what would you buy the kids for Christmas?”
Addy wasn’t usually fooled this easily, but she had had more alcohol than usual and fell into Helena’s trap. “Well, Mary wants a walking doll, new ice skates because hers are too small, a velvet coat with a fur collar. Let’s see, Pete wants an erector set, a pair of ice skates, and a chemistry set … Jimmy … an electric train set, ice skates, and a toboggan. I will be able to afford one gift for each of them.”
“What about Santa Claus? Will the toys be from him, or will they be wrapped gifts under the tree from Lionel and you?” Helena persisted.
“Only Mary still believes in Santa Claus so the doll will be fine for her. The kids are used to getting one present each from Santa.”
Helena paid the bill for lunch, and the two friends embarked upon their shopping adventure. The weather had grown windy and chilly, so they ducked into a children’s clothing shop. “Look at these beautiful clothes,” Addy whispered. “They must cost a fortune.”
Hanging alone on its own rack was a girl’s hunter green velvet coat trimmed with a rabbit collar dyed to look like leopard skin. At the end of the ties on the matching hat were pompoms made of the same fur. A green velvet muff completed the ensemble.
“This is just the coat for Mary,” Helena exclaimed.
“Are you loony?” Addy mouthed. “Look at the price tag.”
By this time, a tall, stately woman came over to ask if she could be of help. Helena asked Addy what size Mary wore. Addy did not want to look like a fool in this classy store so she said softly, “Eight.”
“Do you have this in a size 8?” Helena inquired coolly.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, we do. These coats just came in so we still have one in each size.”
“We’ll take it in size 8,” Helena said quickly. “Will you wrap it, please?”
When the saleslady went into the back room, Addy protested, “Helena you can’t buy that. It is way too expensive. I could outfit all three of my kids for that price. I beg you, please don’t get it.”
Ignoring her, Helena said, “What sizes do the boys wear?”
Addy refused to answer so Helena walked up to the counter to find the saleslady. “After you finish wrapping the coat, will you show me the latest styles for boys?”
“Most certainly, ma’am,” the saleslady replied graciously.
By the time they left the clothing store, Helena had purchased handsome outfits for both Pete and Jimmy.
“Now to Gepetto’s Toy Shop,” Helena directed. Off they went, with Addy protesting all the way.
Addy had never seen such a charming toy store. Christmas music was playing, and in the center stood a tall tree decorated with multi-colored lights, silver garland and tinsel, and countless miniature toy ornaments. A lighted angel perched on top, and a shiny electric train circled round the bottom. Two six-foot wooden nutcrackers flanked the doors of a life-sized gingerbread cottage, home to the teddy bear and doll departments. Helena wasted no time searching out the clerk and asking to see the walking dolls. The saleslady led them to a display of this year’s rage--walking dolls with matching dresses for the little girls lucky enough to find this treasure under the Christmas tree.
Addy looked at the price tag and gasped. The doll cost more than what Addy’s whole wardrobe was probably worth.
Unfazed, Helena continued, “We will take that doll in the white dotted Swiss outfit, and the matching girl’s dress in size 8; and, one more thing, we want the electric train set that’s under the tree in the other room.”
The saleswoman went into the back to get a boxed train set. She carefully wrapped the gifts in children’s Christmas paper, trimming each package with a large bow and ornament. By this time, Addy felt like a charity case.
“I can’t let you buy all these things, Helena,” Addy moaned weakly. “We never shop at expensive stores like this. Lionel will have a fit.”
Helena countered, “I beg your pardon, my dear. Lionel will be in hog’s heaven. I’ll even buy HIM a gift or two--how about a muzzle and a noose?”
Addy laughed and resigned herself to the fact that what Helena wanted, Helena got. There would be no talking her out of these outlandishly priced toys.
Weighted down with many bundles, Helena suggested dropping the packages at the car and finishing off the afternoon with coffee and dessert at a café near the Essex Inn. “The only other place that has raisin tarts as delicious as these is in London, but we don’t have enough time to fly there today,” Helena joked. “We still have to find a sports shop to get the skates and toboggan. Let’s plan on doing that next week,” Helena said.
After dropping Addy off at home, Helena went straight to the farm to hide the children’s presents in the attic. It was wonderful knowing she was using her money to make some incredible children happy this Christmas. This feeling was worth more than her collection of jewelry.
True to her word, Helena took Addy on a shopping excursion the following week. They purchased the skates and toboggan in a sports store in Middletown and found the chemistry and erector sets at a local hobby shop. On Thanksgiving, Lionel had mentioned he was going to Colorado on business after Christmas and hoped to get in some skiing. Wouldn’t he be amazed that Helena actually listened to what he was saying and bought him a very expensive ski jacket? That would seal the deal: Helena would have him eating right out of her hand.
In spite of Helena’s protestations, Addy knew she had to get something special for her friend for Christmas. What do you buy a woman who has everything? In one of her ladies’ magazines, Addy had seen a beautifully etched crystal bedside carafe, and she was determined to order it for Helena. The cost of the carafe was almost equal to what Lionel had allotted Addy for Christmas shopping. Now that Helena had bought so many presents for the children, however, Addy did not have to pinch her pennies to provide the children with a memorable holiday. She still had enough money to buy the delicate carafe for Helena.
While Addy and Helena enthusiastically prepared for the perfect Norman Rockwell New England Christmas, Lionel counted the days until he could finally take off for Colorado. He had begun to wonder if Helena would ever hand over the farm to the Church, and lately he didn’t much care. In fact, he was sick to death of his job, his wife, the kids, and even his brother the monsignor. The only thing that really mattered to him was his Mistress. Sometimes Lionel found it unbelievable that he, Lionel Roberge, had a secret life so very different from his boring existence in Chester, Connecticut.
Lionel loved his salacious secret, particularly because he was convinced that Mistress Irena was doling out his penance. He was well aware that he was a sinner, so he was grateful for each session with Mistress. She had promised him that their next meeting would be one he would never forget. After God, Mistress Irena was the one Lionel cared most about pleasing.
* * * * *
It had been almost three years since Lionel first laid eyes upon the most tantalizing woman he had ever met. The only person who came close to the beauty of this woman was someone Lionel had once seen in a photograph. When he was a boy, one of Lionel’s friends had gotten his hands on some cheesecake photos of the alluring Bettie Page. Still emblazoned in his mind was the image of Bettie dressed in all black underwear: skimpy bra, revealing panties, sexy garter belt, and silk stockings. Sitting with her legs spread wide apart, she wore high-heeled black leather boots that zipped up the front. Shiny, raven black hair cut in thick bangs fell to her shoulders. The photo was not in color, but Lionel saw that her eyes were light, maybe blue. With a menacing, diabolic look on her face, Bettie was holding a whip in her hand. This scene was confusing to the young fellows; they knew lion tamers used whips but never appeared at the circus sporting only underwear. Although the boys had no idea what this picture was about, the photo aroused Lionel enormously. So often throughout his life, he closed his eyes and summoned every detail of this dark angel. Sometimes when he was ravishing Addy, he would visualize Bettie.
When attending a business conference in Colorado, Lionel was sitting at the hotel bar after a long day of meetings. In the dim, smoky light, he did not notice the woman sitting near him because he was engrossed in belting down his highballs. While he was waiting for the bartender to bring his next drink, Lionel glanced over at this woman, the only other patron in the place. Déjà-vu, apprehension, and an immediate sense of arousal grabbed Lionel like the talons of an eagle; sitting near him was the specter of his boyhood fantasies … Bettie Page. He was loaded by now, so maybe he was seeing things. Straightening himself up, Lionel realized it could not be Bettie Page because she would be older by now, and this woman looked quite young. Still, the resemblance was unnerving. She had the same long, glistening black hair cut in bangs. A short, tight-fitting, black straight skirt, black seamed silk stockings, and black stiletto heels accentuated her perfect ass and legs. Her ample breasts peeked out from a low-cut, skin-tight, black cashmere sweater. Whoever she was, she exuded wealth, and Lionel could not take his eyes off this beauty.
Feeling Lionel ogling at her, the woman fired him a look of disgust, threw a wad of cash on the bar and then got up and walked away. Lionel sat motionless, dumbfounded by what had just happened. When the bartender came over to fill his glass, Lionel, gaining his composure, remarked, “Who is that skirt? She sure is a looker.”
The bartender snickered, “Forget about her. That’s Irene Bauer. Daughter of a big-shot senator, and married at that. A real cold fish. She pays me well to keep my mouth shut whenever she checks in. Beautiful, rich, and a bitch.” The bartender smiled at his own rhyme.
Guzzling his last drink, Lionel rummaged for his wallet and tossed a few dollars on the bar. The bartender looked at the measly bills, barely enough to cover Lionel’s tab. “Jerk,” he mumbled under his breath.
It was nearly 3:00 a.m. as Lionel staggered up to his hotel room. Damn it. He had to get up by 7:00 a.m. He set the alarm, collapsed fully dressed onto the bed, and immediately fell into a deep sleep. The loud ringing of the alarm clock disturbed him way too soon.
His head pounding with a hangover, Lionel lumbered robotically to the bathroom to shower and shave. It was going to be another long, boring day. Every time there was a break in the meetings, Lionel looked around for the woman he had seen the previous night at the bar. The conference would be over in two days, and he just had to meet her.
While Lionel searched for Irene, she was still upstairs in bed, nursing her own hangover. Irene liked this hotel because the exquisite penthouse suite was very private. She phoned room service for coffee, and then propped pillows behind her back. Almost instantly, the waiter was at the door. Irene buzzed him in.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything else besides coffee, Miss Bauer?” the butler asked attentively.
“No thanks, Ken; I’m not hungry this morning.”
Ken laughed, “You mean this AFTERNOON. It’s about one o’clock.”
Irene smiled teasingly, then said, “I have to get my beauty sleep, you know.”
She told Kenneth to take some money from her purse on the table. He showed her that he took a dollar, but she told him to take five. She liked Kenneth and always asked for him when she stayed at this hotel. He was quiet and discreet – a “live and let live” kind of guy.
Ken had wheeled the cart next to the bed, and Irene poured herself a steaming cup of coffee. Another thing Irene loved about this hotel was that their coffee was always fresh and hot.
As Irene sat back sipping her breakfast, she asked herself what the hell she was doing in this place. Hers was an aimless life. Yes, she was the daughter of Senator Neal Richter and wife of Attorney Samuel Bauer. Irene was the only child of Neal and Sally Richter. The couple met in college and was still nauseatingly in love. In fact, Irene often wondered why they had even bothered to have a child. Flossie, the same nanny who had fostered her mother, raised her. As far as Irene was concerned, Flossie was the only parent she ever had.
Irene’s mother Sally had grown up in the South, where prominent families still maintained a staff to run the household. When Sally moved to Colorado after she married Neal, Flossie moved with her. Flossie had never married; her identity intertwined first with Sally’s and now Irene’s. She raised the two of them as if they were her own, guiding them with her love, wisdom, and kindness. A devout Christian, Flossie often quoted the Bible when she taught the girls life lessons. Irene’s family, on the other hand, feigned Lutheranism, but it was all for show. They made an appearance in church every Sunday and contributed large amounts to the coffers, but that was about it.
Irene was shipped off to boarding school when she was eight years old. She and Flossie had a hard time parting, but Irene’s parents assured her she would get to see Flossie during school holidays. It was traumatic sending a child so young to boarding school; perhaps that was why Irene had very few memories of the early years of her education. By the time she reached junior level, the once quiet and timid Irene had turned into a rebellious girl filled with resentment for her parents, and lashed out at them by getting herself into predicaments. On a few occasions, her father had to plead with the administration to keep Irene at the school. Senator Richter’s large donations always helped convince the headmaster to give his daughter another chance. Her father’s money motivated even the most upstanding of institutions to look the other way. In addition, the last thing Miss Astor’s Preparatory School for Girls wanted was negative press.
Miss Astor’s was not all that bad. Albeit there were a lot of silly rituals and codes, but fortunately, Irene fit in rather well. When Irene’s insurrections won the admiration and respect of some of the other girls, she flourished from the attention, and her aberrant behavior escalated. Once, Irene ran away from school and convinced her schoolmate, Lisbeth Washington, to go with her. Although Lisbeth knew they were committing a grievous crime against the school, she was too much in awe of Irene to refuse her proposal. After all, Irene was smart, pretty, brave, and popular, too. The girls had not worked out a plan, and once they scaled the tall, black iron fence, terrified Lisbeth began to cry.
“Why did we do this, Irene?” she bawled. “My parents will kill me, and we’ll get thrown out of school.”
Calmly, Irene replied, “Trust me. My father will make sure they don’t expel us. Now let’s head for the train station.” At least Irene had brought along a large sum of money, expecting they could hop a train to nowhere. By the time the escapees reached the train station, however, the police were already there to take them back to school.
The girls rode silently in the back of the police car while Lisbeth cried softly. All Irene could think about was they had gotten as far as the train station and were now riding home in a cruiser. At least Irene had succeeded in stirring up the administration.
It was just before dawn when Irene and Lisbeth arrived at the school, and most of the girls were in their bathrobes, peeking out their bedroom doors. The headmaster and other staff members were waiting nervously outside the front entrance. After a quiet conversation with the police officers, imploring them to keep this out of the newspapers, Headmaster Walker told Irene and Lisbeth to go up to bed. From the look of anger on his face, the girls knew this incident was far from over.
When Lisbeth and Irene went upstairs, their classmates, in hushed tones, begged the girls to tell them what had happened. The pair of delinquents was so tired, however, they promised to give their friends a blow-by-blow account of their escapade in the morning. Irene planned to embellish the tale and hoped Lisbeth would go along with it.
The maid came up earlier than usual to wake Irene and Lisbeth. Apparently, both the girls’ parents were waiting in the headmaster’s study. Lisbeth looked horrified knowing her family was drawn into this mess. Irene, so used to reprimand, was not the least bit concerned that her father was there again. While Lisbeth scrambled nervously to get dressed, Irene yawned and purposely dressed slowly.
When the girls got downstairs, Irene’s father and both Lisbeth’s parents were seated outside the headmaster’s lavish study. Irene didn’t expect to see her own mother there. Sally Richter maintained unpleasant encounters were too much on her delicate nerves. She was, after all, a Southern belle. The headmaster called the girls into his study individually, Lisbeth going first.
When she came out crying, Irene figured Lisbeth spilled the beans, telling the headmaster it was all Irene’s idea. Next, Irene went in for her interrogation. She took blame for the whole incident but was stunned when the headmaster said Lisbeth assumed responsibility for everything. Well, the fainthearted Lisbeth had not ratted out Irene after all. From that day on, Lisbeth became one of Irene’s most trusted pals.
Lisbeth’s parents and Irene’s father were summoned individually followed by each girl called in with her own parents. Finally, the headmaster invited the whole flock into his kingly chambers. Irene had been a guest in there many times and always admired the shiny wood floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with works of classical literature. Plush velvet brocade chairs, an ornately carved mahogany desk, and oriental rugs carried Irene’s imagination to a scene in the life of poet Robert Browning and his forbidden courtship of poet Elizabeth Barrett.
When Irene’s consciousness drifted back into the present, she caught the headmaster droning on about how, in most cases, the girls’ actions would lead to expulsion. Because Lisbeth had never been in trouble, it would be unfair to dismiss her, and the headmaster did not mention Irene’s former transgressions in front of Lisbeth’s parents. He knew full well Irene’s father would once again pay the school for keeping silent, and Miss Astor’s could really use the money for dormitory renovations.
The headmaster issued a warning, and revoked all privileges until further notice. Everyone had to agree verbally that this was fair punishment, and all present signed off on the reprimand documents. The meeting ended near lunchtime so the headmaster dismissed the girls to the refectory. The parents stayed behind and exchanged pleasantries, but under his feigned cheerfulness, Lisbeth’s dad, Mr. Worthington, was seething. He knew Senator Richter’s daughter was untouchable and knew Irene was a bad influence on Lisbeth. He would see to it that Lisbeth stayed away from that wild child of Richter’s.
For punishment, Irene and Lisbeth had to help the cook staff peel vegetables for lunch and dinner; clear the tables and sweep the refectory floor after each meal; go straight up to their rooms after dinner with no dessert; and not listen to their phonograph records. Some of the girls snickered at them, but most of their classmates felt sorry. When their month of punishment concluded, Lisbeth and Irene had to write a five-page essay describing how they would amend their behavior to comply with the code of ethics at Miss Astor’s School. In addition, they had to write letters of apology to their parents and the headmaster. The incident sealed the bond of friendship between the two renegades, and Lisbeth and Irene asked to be roommates the next school year. Of course, Mr. Worthington adamantly opposed, but Mrs. Worthington and Lisbeth convinced him that Irene was fully reformed … she had not gotten into any trouble and was receiving honor grades. Lisbeth was a good influence on Irene, and the two had become like sisters. The girls went on to room together through the end of junior level into their senior level.
By now, Irene and her classmates had reached the appropriate age to attend the four dances sponsored each year by Miss Astor’s: Halloween Masquerade, Yuletide Formal, Spring Ball, and finally, Prom. Only one boys’ academy was invited to the dances so as not to overwhelm the girls. Most often there were enough boys to go around, and the dances were heavily chaperoned by staff from Miss Astor’s and the boys’ academy.
With her shiny black locks, porcelain skin, and sapphire blue eyes, Irene had blossomed into a classic beauty. Some of the girls nicknamed her “Snow White,” but Irene retorted, “Then where the heck is my prince charming?”
Although her dance card was always the first to be filled, Irene never found a boy who really interested her. By their last year at Miss Astor’s, many girls were writing to young men who had attended one of the dances. After all, what was the purpose of finishing school if not to find the proper husband?
It was near the end of the Yuletide Formal, and although Irene had a boy’s name on her dance card, she asked him if he would not mind too much if she sat that one out. Her feet hurt. Lisbeth had insisted she buy these gorgeous see-through pumps decorated with crystals, just like Cinderella’s glass slippers. Well, Cinderella had gotten to take her shoes off at midnight, and Irene was just about to do the same. Lisbeth had also convinced Irene to buy a white chiffon floor-length ball gown with a strapless sweetheart neckline. The red satin sash around Irene’s tiny waist matched perfectly with the red roses in her chignon. She wore simple, but terribly expensive, matching diamond earrings and necklace.
As Irene sat there trying to remove her shoes inconspicuously, she felt someone standing in front of her. Looking up with a start, she saw a young man she did not recall having seen before. He was tall, slender, and strikingly handsome, dressed to perfection in a winter-white dinner jacket, a red cummerbund, black trousers, and a red bow tie. Most of the young men wore black, but this fellow stood out from the rest.
“May I have this dance?” he said confidently. “I know I’m not on your dance card, but I just noticed you now. You are stunning.”
Irene struggled to put her feet back into her shoes without using her hands, but it was impossible. She stammered, “My feet hurt so I took off my shoes.” “Well, let me help you get them back on, Cinderella.” The words had no sooner descended from his lips than he was down on one knee, searching discreetly under her gown.