CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Pete looked around. “Looks like someone is moving.” He grinned. “Are you sure you don’t mind taking care of all this?”
“Pete, the moving company will be here by nine o’clock on Sunday morning,” Annie said. “I’ll count the boxes, they’ll sign the manifest, and I’ll sign it. Your belongings will be delivered to the lake house by noon tomorrow. How did you get the owners to agree to let you store your things before the closing?”
“The deal is going through, they had no problem with it. You also have the go-ahead to proceed with your decorating plans. The key is under the mat. I have a written consent form from the owners. I made it all a condition of the sale.”
“I’m going to miss you, Pete. Promise to call often. I really am going to worry about you driving out West. I wish you had a dog or something.”
“Look at me, I’m all grown up. I’m looking forward to driving the Rover over country roads. I might even do a little four-wheeling if the occasion arises. This is going to be good for me, Annie.”
“I know that, but I’m still going to worry.”
“I left my itinerary in the kitchen. I don’t want you worrying about me, Annie. You have the number for the super, all the numbers I left for you in case anything goes wrong.”
“Look at me, Pete Sorenson. I’m a big girl. Did you pack your warm clothes? Even though it’s mild for the first of October, it’s going to be cold where you’re going.”
“I can’t believe it’s October already,” Pete muttered. “Has your Halloween merchandise come in yet?”
“It’s due today, as a matter of fact.”
“I like your theme idea a lot. With Halloween a few weeks away, I can see that you’re going to be busy. I know a place in Jersey that has the biggest pumpkins, the best scarecrows, the best of everything for Halloween. When I was a kid, my mom and dad made a big production of taking me there to pick out the pumpkins and the outfit for the scarecrow. I think they enjoyed it more than I did. How about if I give you directions and you check it out over the weekend? Oh, I almost forgot, they have cider that is to die for.” Pete scribbled, drawing a crude map for Annie’s benefit.
“I’ll do it this weekend. The best part is, we can write it all off.”
“Atta girl, Annie, now you’re thinking like a businesswoman. Okay, guess it’s time for me to hit the road. I know I’m leaving everything in good hands.”
Pete drew Annie to him, hugged her tightly and then kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I owe you so much, Annie. I know I don’t tell you often enough how much I appreciate you. I do. Someday I hope there’s something I can do for you that will make things even for us.”
“This isn’t a contest, Pete,” Annie murmured.
“Annie . . . if ...”
“I’ll call you immediately if Maddie calls. Regardless of the time of day. Now get going. Make lots of money, because it’s going to take buckets to decorate that house, and remember you want to buy a boat.”
“Scratch the cabin cruiser on the Sound. I’m not ready for that yet. But I’ll get a big sailboat for the lake. You can sleep on it too.”
“Go already!” Annie shouted.
“I’m gone. I’ll call every other day.”
Annie walked with Pete to the elevator. A lump the size of a walnut seemed to be stuck in her throat. Just as the door was about to close, Pete stuck his tongue out at her and wiggled his ears. She laughed as she made her way back to the apartment.
Inside the apartment she stared at the packed boxes. Pete’s things. The colorful surfboard was leaning against the wall. Maybe she shouldn’t send it with the movers, maybe she should take it up herself the next time she went to Darien. The surfboard was too important to Pete to leave it in the hands of an unknown person. She carried it back to her room. Pete’s room.
Would she really be able to move her things into this room? Would she really be able to sleep in the same bed Pete made love to Maddie in? No, a thousand times no. She carried the surfboard to the guest room and leaned it up against the wall. She closed the door to Pete’s room. It would always be Pete’s room, Pete and Maddie’s room. Nothing would ever change that.
Annie ate a sketchy breakfast, her thoughts far away. She knew in her heart she should run as far and as fast as she could. No matter how thoughtful she was, no matter what she did for Pete, no matter what she felt, Pete belonged to Maddie. All she was doing was postponing the moment when she would have to cut him out of her life. Later it was going to hurt more. She knew she was making Pete’s life easier, taking responsibility for so many things. But at what cost to herself? She was thirty-four years old, and it was time to make a life for herself. A life that didn’t include Pete Sorenson. She’d been doing that until Pete asked her to drop everything and help him. She’d even diddled with the idea of moving to California to put as much space between them as possible, and that way she could gradually wean herself away from the soul-wrenching phone calls, occasional visits that had become a ritual with her and Pete. Now she was more mired in his life than before. Who but a fool would offer to decorate a house another woman was going to share with the man she loved? Who but a fool would take over and run the other woman’s business and put her own life on hold? Who but a fool would gladly give up her life back in Boston to move into a sublet of the man she loved, who in turn loved someone else?
Pete counted on her. Depended on her. And she fed on those dependencies like a fool.
If Pete was right, it would be two years, maybe three, before Maddie testified in court. If she stuck around that long, she would be thirty-six or thirty-seven, the best years of her life gone, at least the three years that really counted. She’d be almost past the child-bearing stage. She’d be gray-haired with bridges in her mouth, wearing bifocals and fighting a losing battle with flab when her kids went off to college. Providing, of course, there was a man out there who would want a woman who was in love with another man.
“And that, Annie Gabriel,” she said aloud, “makes you just about the biggest fool walking on the face of the earth.”
Annie choked back a sob as she dressed for another day of work that would make her rival richer for her efforts. Don’t think about that, Annie, you’re doing this for Pete because you love him heart and soul.
At first, the days crawled by, and then they picked up speed and literally seemed to whiz by.
Annie eyed the calendar on her desk. Ten days until Christmas. The house in Darien was finished. She closed on it the day before Thanksgiving with Pete’s power of attorney. Now that she had experienced, full-time help at the store, she had some time to herself. She used it to oversee the last minute decorating. This weekend the drapers were coming to hang the curtains, verticals, and shades in all the rooms. The carpeting and tile had been completed by the closing date, thanks to the owner’s willingness, the bank’s approval, and her own spare time to allow the renovations to be done. Pete’s sizable down payment, of course, made all things possible. The furniture arrived the past weekend and everything was in place. This weekend she was going to put up a huge Christmas tree and decorate it, so when Pete arrived on Christmas Eve, the house would be fragrant, and hopefully, just what he wanted. Plus the grand surprise if it materialized.
She thought about the surprise, a smile of pure happiness on her face. Her present to Pete, which she’d planned months ago. In fact it had come to her the day she first met Simon Jakes. Find Barney Sims. Find him and bring him to Pete’s house. His special Christmas present.
Just yesterday Jakes had called to report on his lack of progress. “It’s like he dropped off the face of the earth. Every lead fizzles on me. I’m trying, Annie, I need you to believe that. If I don’t find him for Christmas, then we’ll concentrate on Easter. And if Easter doesn’t work, we’ll go with the Fourth of July and on through every holiday. I won’t give up. I’m gonna find that guy. It’s a challenge now. I think they changed their names, though not legally. That’s what’s making it so hard.”
The perfect present, and it might not materialize. It’s the thought that counts, Annie, she told herself, and sighed mightily.
For days now she’d been praying for snow. Every night she watched the long-range forecast, the weatherman teasing her, saying yes and no. Whatever, it would be cold, and that was a plus. The past weekend she’d carried in firewood so it would be dry and ready to burn. As far as she could tell, she hadn’t missed a thing. She was taking Friday off so she could get a head start on the grocery shopping, stocking Pete’s freezer, cooking extra meals that could be frozen.
And what would Pete do? Why, Pete would hug her, his eyes would light up, and he’d say, “Annie, you are amazing!” He’d hug her again, her heart would swell and her eyes would mist over. All because she was a fool, and fools acted with their hearts instead of their brains. Now, if her special surprise came into being, well, Pete would just about die.
Somehow Annie managed to get through the days until Friday, when she rose at four-thirty and was on the road to Darien by five-thirty. She was antsy, impatient to get there so she could start on all the last minute details that would make Pete’s homecoming special.
Pete was as good as his word, calling every other day. The first question he always asked as soon as he said hello was, “Any news?” Since leaving, all he’d said about the house was, “How’s it going?” She hadn’t told him how much time and effort she’d put into his house, and she wasn’t sure why. The big surprise! The special pat on the back. The special smile that reached his eyes.
It was a beautiful day, crisp and cold, fireplace weather. Annie immediately set the thermostat to seventy degrees before she took off her shearling jacket. As she filled the coffeepot, she kept saying over and over, “This is going to be a wonderful day.” She believed her own words.
The perfect house, the perfect setting, the perfect holiday. But most of all, the perfect man. The absolutely end-all of surprises.
By noon the drapes, shades, and vertical blinds were installed. They matched the furniture perfectly. Annie clapped her hands in delight after she wrote out the check.
In town, before she shopped for groceries, she stopped in a quaint tearoom for lunch, which she gobbled, impatient to be on her way.
At two-thirty the new refrigerator and freezer were stocked to overflowing. She made fresh coffee while she worked on a menu list. At four o’clock she was in her Volvo heading out to the main road once again, in search of a Christmas-tree farm. It was dark when she picked out her tree and ready-made wreath for the front door. For five dollars extra the owner promised delivery of the tree by noon the following day. For ten dollars this man would set the tree up in the stand. She parted with thirty more dollars.
Everything was under control. The only thing she’d forgotten to do was carry in the Christmas decorations, specialty items she’d been picking up since Thanksgiving. She had wide red satin bows for the wreath and the mantel garland, unique Christmas balls, tiny strings of lights in the shape of stars, and the most glorious Christmas angel she’d ever seen, made especially for her by one of Maddie’s suppliers.
Annie’s mood darkened to match the night around her. Where was Maddie? What kind of Christmas was she going to have? Would she spend the holiday thinking about Pete? But more important, would Pete spend the holiday thinking about Maddie? If so, then all her work was for nothing. Instead of making Christmas special for Pete, she might be making him miserable. Damn, she couldn’t do anything right.
Her mood shifted and she cried the whole evening as she prepared a tray of lasagna, made spaghetti, a pot roast, and fried chicken. When the food cooled, she portioned it out into trays that she wrapped and slid into the freezer. She went to bed with tears on her cheeks. Her pillow was damp when she woke, and she had a terrible headache she knew was going to turn into a migraine.
The tree arrived at mid-morning. It took the delivery man ten minutes to set it up and hang the wreath on the front door. It was huge, Annie thought, craning her neck to see the tip of the tree, and it was so fragrant she was transported momentarily back to her childhood, waking to see the magnificent tree in her parents’ living room.
“Don’t decorate it till tomorrow,” the man who brought it said. “The branches need time to fall, and they’re still a little wet. Don’t forget to add water. The stand holds a quart, but the tree will suck up the first quart real quick. I made a deep X in the trunk. The tree will stay fresh till the middle of January if you do that. Try and keep your thermostat set around sixty-eight. That’s ideal. Beautiful house, ma’am.”
“Thank you.”
Her headache raged. There was nothing for her to do but lie down and pray it would go away. She went out to the kitchen, her head pounding with each step she took. She swallowed four aspirin with a glass of water before she made her way back to the brand-new sofa. She slept until noon the following day. She still had a headache, but it was bearable.
Annie decorated the tree, placed the angel on top, vacuumed the pine needles, set the timers for the tree lights, the foyer light, and the kitchen light to come on at four-thirty.
She was on I-95 heading back to the city by six o’clock. Pete’s homecoming had been taken care of, right down to the three presents she’d placed under the tree, all done up in sparkly silver paper with huge red velvet bows. There was no way she could wrap her special, super-duper gift, if Jakes came through for her.
What was she going to do for Christmas? Who would she share the holiday with? She hadn’t had time to make friends in New York, and all her old friends in Boston were married and usually spent the holidays with parents or in-laws.
“God,” she said, “I didn’t even buy myself a Christmas tree.” She laughed so hard her eyes watered. Her head started to pound again, but she was home, so it didn’t matter. She’d get one of those table trees fully decorated from the florist. She could buy herself a present and stick it under the tree, she decided.
Annie fixed some soup, ate it, showered, and got her clothes ready for the following day before she curled on the sofa with the phone book and telephone in her lap. She called six churches before she found one that said they would be delighted to have her help serve the needy and the poor on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day.
The decision to open or close Fairy Tales on Christmas Eve, one of the biggest shopping days of the season, was hers to make. She opted to close it. There were more important things in life than making money . . . for one’s rival. She immediately had an attack of conscience. This wasn’t like her. All her life she’d been an honest, forthright, tell-it-like-it-is person. She’d lived her life under the banner of honesty, and here she was, throwing it all away for a lousy day of sales.
Annie looked at the clock. It wasn’t too late to call her two full-time employees. If she agreed to pay them overtime or double time, out of her own pocket, she wouldn’t be compromising herself. She punched out numbers, waited for Ada Rollins to pick up the phone. She spoke quickly, ending with, “I need to know, Ada.”
“Double time, close at four-thirty, and I’ll do it,” the older woman said. “Don’t worry about Caroline. If I agree to work, so will she. What about the day’s receipts?”
“Oh, I forgot about that. Tally up and I’ll pick up the receipts on my way home. Ada, if business is slow, use your best judgment about closing earlier. I know you and Caroline want to be with your families.”
Annie made a mental note to be extra generous with the women’s Christmas bonuses.
Now she could go to sleep.
At the end of the day before Christmas Eve, Annie was reaching for her purse when the phone rang.
“Pete! Where are you?”
“Anaconda, Montana. Lots of snow here. It’s as cold as a well digger’s ass, I can tell you that. I’m heading out to Butte and should be in Darien late tomorrow evening. Any . . . word?”
“No, Pete, I’m sorry.”
“I thought . . . the holidays and all. It was supposed to be Maddie’s and my first Christmas as a married couple.”
“I really am sorry, Pete.”
“I know you are. How’s business?”
“I don’t think it gets any better than this. I think you’ll be pleased. Did I tell you a lady came into the shop after Thanksgiving and wanted to know if she could sell, on consignment, Victorian lace sachet balls made in the shape of Christmas balls? I said okay. I sold eleven hundred! Is that amazing?”
“Yeah, amazing. Maddie would be proud of you. Listen, my driver is here so I gotta mush on out of here. See you, Annie.”
“’Bye, Pete.”
Not Merry Christmas. Not a word about inviting her to Darien. Not a word about stopping by the apartment, not a word about the Darien house.
Annie wiped at her eyes. Getting one’s hopes up only allowed for disappointment. “Damn.” She should have known better. What was it the poets said? Hope springs eternal. Yeah, right, for other people, not for the Annie Gabriels of this world.
The following morning Annie arrived at the Good Shepherd’s soup kitchen at five A.M. She introduced herself, donned a tattered apron, and became one of a dozen volunteers. Breakfast was the first order of the day. Afterward there were dishes to wash and lunch to prepare. Her job was to cut the vegetables and pick through the beans that went into the hearty soup that was served every day.
At ten-thirty, when the minister told her to take a break, she did. “You need more volunteers, Reverend,” she said wearily. “I had no idea you had families. For some reason I thought . . .”
The minister smiled. “It is a shock, isn’t it? We take care of roughly twenty-three families, and we have thirty-seven children. It’s going to be a very . . . lean Christmas for the children.”
“Don’t you get donations? Don’t your parishioners give toys and clothing?”
“This is a very poor parish, Miss Gabriel. This month the church barely had enough money to pay the electric bill. If you trust in the Lord, He comes through. He sent you to us, didn’t He?”
“Well, yes, He did . . . but—”
“There are no buts, Miss Gabriel. You’re here. We need you. It’s that simple. Now, if you could just figure out a way to turn meat loaf into turkey, you would have my eternal thanks.”
“Well, Reverend, if you can spare me for a few hours, I just might be able to do that.” Annie had her coat on before the minister could say yes or no. “Do you by any chance have a vehicle I can borrow?”
The minister tossed her a set of keys. “It’s the van parked in front. Don’t let the exterior fool you, the engine is in perfect condition, one of my flock sees to it. Can you use some help?” he asked. “For whatever you have in mind?”
Annie grinned. “Reverend, an extra pair of hands would be wonderful. Let’s go, but first can I make a phone call?”
“Of course.”
Annie sprinted into the makeshift office and dialed Fairy Tales.
“Ada, it’s Annie. Listen to me. Close the shop now. Say there’s a gas leak, say anything you want, but get whatever customers you have in the store out. Hang the sign in the window and close the shutters. Don’t open the door for anyone but me. Pack every single thing in the store in boxes. Everything. Toys, clothes, baby gear. Everything. Have Caroline call the market and tell them to have a dozen turkeys with all the trimmings ready for me by noon. One o’clock at the latest. I want cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, vegetables, stuffing mix, dinner rolls, and salad greens. Pumpkin pies too. I need enough for . . . seventy people. I have to go now.”
An hour later Reverend Tobias said, “I can’t believe this! I do believe it! You see, Miss Gabriel, God sent you to us for a reason.”
“Wait, wait, we forgot the wrapping paper and all the other decorations. Ada, Caroline, help me, please.”
“Miss Gabriel, do you know what you are doing?” Ada asked, her face puckered in worry.
“Of course.”
“The store’s empty. There’s nothing left but the shelves.”
“I know, isn’t it great?”
“Well ...”
“Have a wonderful holiday. Spend your bonuses wisely. I’ll see you next week.”
“But . . . how can we work, we have no stock?”
“That’s true,” Annie said happily. “We’ll think of something. Come in on Monday as usual.”
“Miss Gabriel—”
“Call me Annie, Reverend.”
“If you agree to call me Albert.”
“All right, Albert, what were you going to say?”
“I was going to say I don’t think there’s room in the van for the food.”
“Albert, I learned a long time ago not to sweat the small stuff,” Annie replied.
Annie wrote a check for the food. Later, she thought, she would have an anxiety attack over the amount. Later she would think about what she’d just done to Maddie Stern’s shop. Later she would think about the flak she was going to get from Pete. Later she would worry about paying for everything.
“God will truly bless you, Annie,” the reverend said when they were in the van, weaving through traffic.
“Albert, I need a friend. If—”
“Child, I was your friend the moment you called me. I’ll always be here for you, and it has nothing to do with what you’ve just done for my flock. You’re happy right now, aren’t you?”
“Yes I am. My adrenaline is pumping. Why is that?”
“Because you are doing for others materially as well as physically and mentally. You are giving of yourself.”
“I hear ya, Albert,” Annie said as she careened around a taxi, her foot bearing down on the gas pedal. “If I call you in the middle of the night to bitch and moan, will you talk to me?”
“Absolutely.”
“If I told you I was in love with a great guy who’s in love with someone else . . . ah, forget it.”
“We’ll talk about it when we aren’t so ... wired up. My bishop is not going to believe this. I’m having trouble adjusting.”
“Albert, I didn’t see a Christmas tree. Don’t you have one?”
“No one donated one. The children were going to make one this afternoon with crepe paper and a broom handle.”
“What?” Annie said, slamming on the brakes. Everything in the back shifted to the front, then shifted backward again when Annie surged forward. “Well, we’re going to get one right now,” she said, swerving into an Arco station. “C’mon, Albert, we’re getting the biggest and the best tree this gas station has to offer.”
“Annie, there’s no room,” Albert fretted.
“Of course there’s room. We’ll have them tie it to the door handles, and you can hold the top part through the window. Where’s your faith, Albert?”
“A mile back up the road. You drive like a demon.”
“That’s true,” Annie said agreeably. “Look! They’re selling Christmas ornaments. It won’t hurt to buy a few boxes. The children can string popcorn and cranberries. They have tinsel too. We are one lucky couple, Albert.” God, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so happy.
“I think,” Albert said, “this is going to be the best Christmas ever.”
He looks like he’s just removed a hundred-pound yoke from his shoulders, Annie thought. She watched him as he walked among the trees, trying to find just the right one. He was so homely he was beautiful. One of God’s chosen few. She wondered if anyone ever noticed that his nose was too big and his ears didn’t quite seem to fit his head. What they probably saw was his warm, kind eyes, which always seemed to sparkle, and his smile, which stretched from ear to ear. She closed her eyes and all she could see behind the closed lids was Albert’s kind face. He was too thin, though. He probably didn’t eat enough, or if he did have food, he gave it to others, she thought.
“Are you sure this is going to work?” Albert asked.
Annie laughed. “Oh ye of little faith. Of course it’s going to work.” Annie paid for the tree, the three boxes of ornaments, and the tinsel with a credit card. She needed to hang on to the cash she had in her purse to put in the collection plate during Christmas services.
“I think we should sing, Albert. Do you know ‘Jingle Bells’?”
“Of course.”
“Then let’s hear it, Albert!”
Albert sang at the top of his lungs, Annie joining in. Both of them were so off-key, people turned to look at the loaded-down van, shaking their heads in disbelief.
Later, when all the stock from the store was safely secured in the parish house, the food in the kitchen, Annie accepted a cup of tea from one of the volunteers. In her life she’d never felt so peaceful yet emotionally charged up. She watched as the children played around the tree, their little faces alight with happiness.
“We’ll be serving meat loaf for dinner this evening,” the volunteer who handed her the tea said. Annie smiled weakly. She hated meat loaf. She would never, ever, take anything for granted again.
She rinsed and dried her cup. “If you don’t need me for the cook detail, I think I’ll go over to the parish house and wrap as many presents as I can. Thanks for making me the name and age list.”
“Thank you. It took me just a minute to make the list. I know the families so well.”
Her name was Rose and she was in her late sixties. She was the most efficient, in-charge person Annie had ever met. It was impossible not to warm to her smile. Hands on ample hips, she said, “What are you doing here, Miss Gabriel?”
Annie knew instinctively that nothing but the truth would do for this woman. “At first I came for myself. I didn’t have anyone to spend the holidays with. I came here with bitterness in my heart and a tremendous amount of jealousy. Like most people, I didn’t take the time out of my own busy life to think about those less fortunate than myself. I’m sorry about that.” She told Rose about Fairy Tales, Pete, the house in Darien that she’d decorated, and the special surprise. “Suddenly, none of that is important.”
“Can I call you Annie?”
“If you let me call you Rose.”
“We’ll be friends. Now you have two, Albert and me. When you leave, everyone in this place will be your friend. And let me tell you something else, they can all, myself included, spot a phony a mile away. I could use some extra help on weekends if you don’t have anything better to do.”
“Sign me up, Rose. I can give you Sundays. I work six days a week.”
“Every other Sunday. No one should work seven days a week.”
“You do,” Annie said.
“That’s because this is my family. Get along with you and start to pretty up those presents. Oh, I can just see the tykes’ eyes tomorrow when they see all those gifts. God will reward you, Annie.”
“And on that note I’ll leave you.”
It was five-forty on Christmas Eve when Annie started to wrap the Christmas presents, with Albert’s help. They sang “Jingle Bells” again, off-key, and “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer,” making up the words as they went along.
Annie was happy and at peace.
Pete drove his rental car over the shale road leading to the lake house. He was home. Home being a house he was going to set foot in for the second time. That’s bullshit, Sorenson, he told himself. It isn’t a home. It’s a damn house with furniture. He was driving at a slow crawl when he saw, through the pines, the outdoor lights. He didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until it exploded from his mouth with a loud swish. Annie was here. “Thank you, God,” he murmured. It was going to be a nice Christmas after all. Annie would cook, they’d eat, they’d open presents and sit in front of the fire and talk about old times, and he’d tell her all about the past months. She’d want to talk about the store and how well it was doing. He loved to reminisce. Annie preferred the here and now, but always agreed to the Memory Lane talks.
Pete tapped on the horn, three light taps and then one longer blast. That should bring her on the run. The wreath was pretty. He loved big red bows. His mother always used to put red bows on his birthday and Christmas presents. He heaved the sack of presents for Annie out of the backseat along with his bags. He wondered if Leo had received the Federal Express presents he’d sent out two days ago from Montana. Damn, he was going to have to make two trips. Where the hell was Annie?
Pete struggled to the door, tried it. Locked. He set everything down and looked under the mat for the key. He frowned when he fit it into the lock. Maybe Annie was snoozing. He looked around for her car, realizing for the first time that it wasn’t parked in front. Stupid, she probably put it in the garage, that’s what garages were for. Without noticing it, he kicked the Federal Express envelope that had been propped against the door as he entered the foyer.
“I’m home,” Pete shouted. “Where’s the wine, the welcoming hug? Annieeee!”
Jesus, was this the same house he’d walked through with Annie back in September? He kicked at the door with the heel of his shoe to shut it. His jacket dropped in a heap on the floor.
He saw the Christmas tree, drew a deep breath to inhale the fragrant fir. There were three presents underneath, with huge red velvet bows. He clapped his hands like a kid. He whirled, wanting to see it all at once. Unbe-liev-able!
The sofa was large and could seat six comfortably. It was one of those deep, curl-in-a-ball sofas that welcomed sleep. Deep hunter-green fabric with a thin string line of beige running through the nubby material. The easy chairs were beige with hunter-green stripes, and were picked up in the soft, luxurious carpet that was two shades lighter than the furniture. The drapes looked like they were made from burlap sacks, with wide, dark green stripes.
All his personal belongings had been unpacked and placed around the room. Everything was exactly where he himself would have placed it if he’d done the unpacking.
The fire was laid, all he had to do was spark it. He did. When he was on his feet, his eyes were drawn to the wall over the fieldstone fireplace. He sucked in his breath before the tears rolled down his cheeks. In a bright red frame was a blown-up picture of himself and his parents. He was holding on to his surfboard. “Annieeee!” He backed away, staring at the picture from every angle. The frame matched the red shirt he’d been wearing that day. “Annieeee! Goddamn it, Annie, answer me!” he shouted. Maybe she was taking a bath and couldn’t hear him.
In the kitchen he cursed. Annie must have gone through his photo album. He closed his eyes. It was so like his mother’s kitchen it was scary. Shit, he couldn’t handle this. He backed out the door and headed for the steps, calling Annie’s name as he went along.
He opened one door after the other. Each room was decorated to perfection. He knew his room immediately when he saw the huge four-poster. He’d had a bed like this once. The spread was plaid with red stripes running through it, and it had fringe all along the bottom. Just like this one.
His favorite picture of himself and Maddie was on his night table. His and her chairs with ottomans were side by side. Two magazine racks were along each side of the chairs. An exquisite Tiffany lamp separated the two chairs. Here too a fire was laid in the fireplace. The wall above held a second blown-up photograph of himself and his parents. His father was holding a huge catfish, he had a three-incher on his line, and his mother was making a face. He loved the picture. Jesus, Annie. “Annieeee!”
This was for now. It wasn’t a Maddie room and it wasn’t a Maddie and Pete room. He knew instinctively that Annie had done her best to make it his to ease his aching heart.
Son of a bitch, where was she?
Pete ran down the steps and out to the garage. The emptiness stared back at him. “She’s not here. She fucking well isn’t here!” How could that be? They were supposed to spend the holiday together. Who said so? he asked himself. Did you invite her? Did you specifically ask her here? “Never presume, never assume, Sorenson,” he seethed, back in the kitchen.
Because there didn’t seem to be anything else to do, Pete opened the refrigerator. Food. All kinds of food. He opened the freezer. Frozen dinners. “I’ll be dipped in shit if I’m going to eat a frozen dinner by myself on Christmas Eve,” he snarled. His clenched fist banged down on the kitchen table. He recognized the legal folder. The closing papers on the house. His arm swept them onto the floor.
His chest hurt and his eyes were burning unbearably. His pain eased slightly when he thought about the store. Annie would arrive late. He was so relieved with the thought, he felt light-headed. He dialed his old number. He listened to Annie’s message, his throat constricting.
“Pete, welcome home. Merry Christmas. I hope you like the house. Be sure to water the tree every day. A quart should be in the stand at all times. This message is for you, Maddie, in case you call. Pete’s new number is 203-555-4632. . . . Call me before you leave, Pete.” He cried then for all the would-haves, the should-haves, and the could-haves. His throat hurt when he finally blew his nose in a wad of paper towels.
Never assume. Never presume. He thought about Maddie and Annie and wanted to cry all over again. Barney, I need you.
Pete picked up the telephone and called his uncle. Leo picked up on the second ring. “Leo, it’s Pete. Merry Christmas. Listen, I know it’s late, but if you aren’t doing anything, why don’t you have your chauffeur drive you up here. I don’t want to be alone. I’ll explain what happened when you get here. If you want to come.” He listened to his uncle’s voice and knew he was doing the right thing. “I’m sorry the invitation is last-minute. Can you make it?”
“I’m on my way, boy.”
Pete felt like a hot air balloon with a slow leak when he sat down on the kitchen chair. He stared at the phone, willing it to ring, but it didn’t. He was off the chair searching for a local phone book. When he found it in one of the kitchen drawers, he flipped to the section on churches. He called every number until he found one that was reasonably close and was having a midnight service.
Leo was going to be his first guest. Christmas dinner. But first he had to carry his bags upstairs to his new room, and after that he had to put all of Annie’s presents under the tree. He’d even brought presents for Maddie. He would put those in his dresser drawer. He even had a present for Leo, which he’d planned to take to his uncle the day after Christmas. “You are a shitful person, Pete Sorenson. If you can’t give a present on time, what’s the point?” he said aloud. It would be on time now. Upstairs, he dumped his bags in his room, then came downstairs again. He was about to pick up the bags of presents when he spotted the Federal Express envelope. Maybe it was from Annie. Maybe it was from Maddie. He picked it up to see the sender’s name: Leo Sorenson. He ripped at the tab and withdrew a long red envelope. A Christmas card. He hadn’t sent out cards, even to Annie or his uncle. It was a simple card. A baby seal with a tear in its eye stared up at him. Inside the card said PEACE and was signed by Leo. Airline tickets fell out of the card. Two tickets to Australia with an open date going and coming. Land reservations with open dates to Bell’s Beach. He bawled like a baby. When his shoulders finally stopped shaking, Pete walked over to the tree to put all his presents under it. Leo was going to get a kick out of the Stetson. He’d probably get a huge belly laugh out of the red reindeer socks and the soft shearling slippers.
“Get it together, Sorenson, this is Christmas. It’s going to be whatever you make it.” Damn it, he’d been counting on Annie, looking forward to spending his favorite holiday with her. Where was she, what was she doing? He refused to think about Maddie.
Pete wiped his eyes on his sleeve the way he’d done when he was a kid. “This is now,” he muttered as he selected a Christmas tape for the stereo. Bing Crosby’s mellow voice rang through the house. Pete’s thumb shot in the air. “I have a turkey to defrost, stuffing to make, and a pie to bake. And a Merry Christmas to one and all!” he bellowed.
It was a snowy fairyland, the kind of setting artists captured on Christmas cards. Evergreens, their branches bowed with feathery light snow, gave off a heady, pungent aroma. The moon, a silvery half circle, bathed the snow-covered mountains in a glorious, shimmering spectacle of delight.
Spirals of smoke spewed upward from the squat row of bunkhouses. The barn, a magnificent edifice, stood square and dark amid the plowed mounds of snow. Dim yellow light from the frosty windows spilled outward to create a patchwork quilt.
The main building—or the big house, as the ranch hands called it—stood sentinel as though guarding the outer building from the silence that surrounded the ranch spread.
It was Christmas Eve.
Inside the bunkhouse six ranch hands and two “city slickers” played cards and drank Johnnie Walker red. Most of the hands, with the exception of the six remaining men, were in Cheyenne for the Christmas holiday. These six playing cards would go to Cheyenne for New Year’s when the others returned. The “city slickers” would remain.
Everything was battened down for the night. The special furnace and the warm pipes inside the monstrous barn kept the animals warm and snug.
The perimeters of the ranch appeared to be at peace.
The big house was also quiet, but well-lighted. It smelled of wood smoke and fragrant pine. It was a drafty old house full of leather, open-beamed ceilings, and wide-planked floors.
Inside, cuddled near the open fire, Maddie and Janny toasted the holiday with homemade wine that had the kick of a mule.
“To Christmas and heavy receipts at Fairy Tales,” Maddie said, holding her glass aloft. “And to your Unitec stock, may it go up, up, up.”
Janny drained her glass. “Don’t you ever think about anything but money?” she said sourly.
“What would you suggest I think about? Pete? His old dear friend Annie? Nester? Those killers? Besides, didn’t anyone ever tell you Christmas Eve is one of the heaviest-selling days of the year? Sales during the Christmas season can keep a retailer alive and well when his year sales are soft.”
“I wonder if there was a Christmas party at Merrill Lynch,” Janny mused. “I would have bought a new dress and hit on the broker I told you about. He made my toes tingle, and he believed in Unitec too.”
Maddie gulped at her wine. “I’ve noticed something, Janny. You seem to be taking this all very well. Why is that?” Maddie asked bitterly.
“Because I have no other choice. I could have held out back in Utah, done my time, so to speak, and I can do it here too. After the trial I’ll make my decisions. You’re fighting it, Maddie. Give in already and accept that things are the way they are.”
“We’re slaves,” Maddie shot back. “We cook three meals a day for ranch hands. We’re so tired at seven o’clock, we go to bed because we have to be up at four to make bread. We’re getting a hundred dollars a week, and we have yet to be paid, and even if we were paid, there’s no place to spend the money. There’s no phone, no television, and there’s a radio that plays on Sunday morning. Deliberately, I’m sure. We’re snowbound and have to wait for a thaw. I’ve read Field and Stream, all nine issues, at least a dozen times each. I am on my second reading of Moby Dick. I can recite whole paragraphs by heart. Another thing,” she spat, “I hate the name Olive Parsons.”
“I wish you’d lighten up, Maddie. All we do is go over the same old things, day after day. I’m getting tired of it. I want to go to sleep. It’s my turn to make the bread in the morning. Maybe you should take my turn and you can punch out your hostility on the bread. It’s Christmas Eve, Maddie, peace on earth, goodwill toward man. We’re alive, we’re healthy, and we’re safe. We have a roof over our heads and our stomachs are full. I wasn’t going to say anything, but if you don’t—if you can’t—cope, then I’m going to ask to be moved.”
“After what we went through?” Maddie screeched.
“After what you made us go through. The answer is yes.”
“But Fairy Tales . . . Pete . . .”
Janny sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. “Maddie, you did not own Fairy Tales. Pete put up the money, paid for the stock, paid the rent. Yes, your retail background was put into use, yes, you got it ready. Pete will keep it going somehow. He’s a money person, like I am. He knows it will be a thriving business someday. Anyone with a brain can run a store. As for Pete . . . we talked about this so many times, I don’t know if I can go through it again. One more time, Maddie. He’s going to wait it out. No one in their right mind would expect someone like Pete to cave in and . . . join us in this godforsaken place. Use your head. He loves you. You love him. If that love is strong enough, he’ll be there for you when you get back.”
Maddie’s face turned ugly. “I requested a meeting, a face-to-face, because that’s my right. Obviously, he turned the request down. He’s not going to screw up his life. That’s love all right. Who needs him?”
Her voice was so bitter, Janny cringed. “Does all this have something to do with Annie Gabriel?”
“Of course. They’re probably exchanging presents as we speak. They’re curled up in front of the fireplace drinking fine wine. They might even go to bed together. How do I know what’s going on?”
“I’d say your imagination is pretty vivid.”
“Well, what would you think?”
“I think I would give them both the benefit of the doubt. You are turning into a very hateful person, Maddie.”
“Justifiably so,” Maddie shot back. “I wonder if he went through with the deal on the Stamford house. What do you think, Janny?”
“I think he backed out because it would remind him too much of you. Is that what you want to hear?”
“I asked you what you thought. That means you personally. It’s your turn to throw another log on the fire.”
Janny felt like screaming. “It’s always my turn. Starting tomorrow I’m going to start keeping track of my turns at everything. You are so damn lazy, Maddie. I answered your question. If you don’t like my answer, then that’s your problem. Another thing, I’m sick and tired of coddling you, deferring to you, listening to you bitch and moan, and I’m not going to put up with it. I’m doing everything I can to make the best of a bad situation. I don’t need to hear you making it worse on an hourly basis.”
“Janny, I’m sorry. I ... I can’t reconcile . . . I love Pete. You don’t know what it’s like. You’ve never been in love.”
“That’s it! That’s it!” Janny said getting up. She ran to the coatrack by the front door. “I’m going out to the bunkhouse and ... and well, I don’t know what I’m going to do, but at least I won’t have to listen to you. For the record, Miss Madelyn Stern, a.k.a. Olive Parsons, I was in love once, and I know exactly how it feels, and I even know how you’re hurting because I hurt the same way when he dumped me for someone nineteen years old with silicone implants. If you decide to have a nervous breakdown, do it when I’m not around. Merry Christmas, Maddie.”
“Janny, don’t go. I’m sorry. It’s the holiday . . . it’s everything.”
An artic burst of air whipped through the room when Janny opened the door. It swirled around Maddie. “You didn’t put the log on the fire,” Maddie shrilled.
“Ask me if I care!” Janny shot back. “If you want to talk about slaves, I’ve been yours since we got here. Start doing for yourself. You can make the bread in the morning too. I did it the last two days.” The door closed with a bang.
Maddie curled into her heavy quilt. “Merry Christmas, Maddie,” she whimpered.