Chapter 18

Marley

The Christmas season had always been hard on Marley. She had rationalized it was simply the by-product of a loveless marriage. After all, who wanted to sit around a Christmas tree and pretend that all was well when she could still smell another woman’s perfume on her cheating husband’s shirt? But after putting those years behind her and finding real faith, Marley had truly expected this Christmas to be much improved. Yet here she was making a fast getaway on Christmas Eve just to escape a man.

She’d told Jack and her friends that she was worried about Ashton and hated to think of him being alone during the holidays, so soon after his breakup with Leo. In truth, Ashton had been quite convincing, assuring her that he had plans to go to a Christmas Eve concert tonight and a Christmas dinner with friends tomorrow.

Even so, when she’d called him this morning, she had insisted on coming to visit. She hadn’t told him when exactly, but she explained that she was coming to give him his Christmas present, which she hadn’t had time to mail. That was partly true. She hadn’t had time to mail it. In fact, the paint was barely dry on the piece she’d been working on these past few days. Distracted by Jack and Hunter (actually by Sylvia and Leah), Marley had felt uninterested in painting. But with Ashton as her motivation, she’d managed to get a painting started and finished.

It wasn’t a large piece, but she thought Ashton was going to like it, and she could imagine it hanging in his apartment. Maybe in his tiny dining area. As a child, Ashton had loved toucans. At first she’d assumed it was simply thanks to his brief addiction to Froot Loops, but when his love of the tropical bird outlived his interest in the cereal, she realized it was more than just a passing infatuation. Anyway, she hoped Ashton would be pleasantly surprised by Walter. For some curious reason she’d named the colorful bird Walter Cronkite. Maybe it was a flash from the past, from back when Ashton was a toddler picking his Froot Loops from the tray of his highchair while she caught up with the evening news. Who knew?

Just as her son had needed her then, she had convinced herself that he needed her now. But as she checked into the hotel a few blocks from Ashton’s apartment, telling the clerk that, yes, she was here to see family, she felt like the world’s biggest phony. Really, who was she kidding? Running off like this to deliver a toucan to her son just to get away from Jack and his new little “family” was truly pathetic. And yet she couldn’t seem to stop herself.

“You need to grow up,” she told herself as she hooked the strap of her overnight bag over one arm and pressed the number 7 button in the elevator. Of course, she could always wait until after Christmas to grow up. Really, what would it hurt? Besides, she told herself, after all she’d done to help Jack and Hunter, she needed a vacation, which she could afford thanks to selling those paintings. But why here? Didn’t she know how pitiful she looked right now?

It had all started when Jack called her late last night. She’d actually been surprised to hear from him, since they hadn’t spoken for several days. Although she knew he’d been busier than usual at the gallery, she was nearly convinced that he’d forgotten all about her. And she couldn’t believe how much that hurt.

“I’m sure you can understand how, being so new in town, Sylvia and Leah are at loose ends,” Jack had begun tentatively, after some initial small talk. “So I thought you wouldn’t mind if we invited them to join us for Christmas. Naturally, Hunter thinks it’s a great idea.”

“Yes. It’s a great idea,” she’d agreed quickly, trying to sound enthusiastic rather than panicked. “But I’m going to Ashton’s for Christmas.”

“Oh?” Jack had sounded surprised. “You never mentioned it.”

“Actually, it just came up.” She immediately regretted the lie. But feeling trapped, she rambled on, reminding him of all that Ashton had been through. “You know how holidays can be for people when they’re alone. That’s just one more good reason for you and Hunter to reach out to Sylvia and Leah like you’re doing.”

“But what about tomorrow?” Jack asked. “I thought we were going to go to Abby’s together and—”

“And you should still go,” she insisted. “Take Sylvia and Leah with you. It’s a good way for them to meet people. I know Abby will be happy to have them. It’s not a sit-down meal, so the more the merrier.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe we should just stay here and—”

“You’ll enjoy the festivities. And I know Hunter is looking forward to playing with Abby’s granddaughter, Lucy.”

“But it won’t be the same without you there.” He sounded a bit sad, although it could’ve been politeness.

“I’m so sorry,” she told him. “But Ashton has been through so much recently. And he’s my only child and it’s Christmas and … well.” She ran out of words.

“I do understand, Marley. I just wish you’d talk Ashton into coming back here with you. He seemed to enjoy Thanksgiving. It would be great to see him again.”

“I’ll try.”

Jack let out a long, weary sigh. “I had a phone call from Jasmine earlier this evening.”

“Really?”

“Yes, but nothing has changed.”

“Oh.”

“She was just calling to say she’d forgotten to send Hunter a Christmas gift. She wanted me to pick up something for her.”

“You’re kidding! Jasmine called to ask you to buy Hunter a present and then pretend that it was from her?” She wished she hadn’t said it. Jack didn’t need a double dose of pain.

“I know it sounds a bit strange, but for Hunter’s sake, I’ll do it. She needs to be reminded that her mother loves her.”

Marley bit her tongue. “Well, you know what they say, Jack … Christmas is really for the children.”

“Who says that?”

She forced a laugh. “I have no idea, really. Maybe it was my parents. Or maybe it’s what I used to tell Ashton.”

“I’ve always enjoyed Christmas—as a child, as an adult, and even more so as a grandpa. I think Christmas should be for everyone.”

Then she’d explained that she wanted to drop some presents for Hunter by the gallery before she left. She’d done so this morning, quickly and discretely, while Sylvia was helping a customer. Marley had gone in and placed the large brown bag, clearly marked with Hunter’s name, behind the counter. Marley hadn’t mentioned that the gifts weren’t only for Hunter, although most of the packages did have Hunter’s name on them. However, she’d written “from Santa” on a number of them, just to keep from overwhelming the young girl. For Jack, Marley had splurged on a silver and brass chess set she’d seen him admiring in the antique shop across the street several weeks ago. She knew how much he’d love it.

As the Christmas song in the elevator crooned “if the Fates allow,” Marley wondered if she’d get the chance to play a game of chess with Jack, or if he’d break in the chess set with Sylvia. She didn’t want to think about that.

As she went down the deserted hallway, letting herself into the hotel room, she knew that she was pitiful and sad and just plain silly. And as she dropped her bag, then sat down in the chair by the window and stared out over the gray, gloomy cityscape, she felt certain she’d been a fool to run away—a childish, immature, juvenile fool. Yet she didn’t think she could have done anything else.

Really, when it came to relationships with men, Marley had never been terribly savvy. And at her age, it seemed unlikely that she was going to get any smarter. She picked up the television remote and clicked the TV on. She didn’t get TV reception in her beach house, so this felt like a novelty. It took her a bit of time to figure out how to make the complicated thing work.

She just needed to get herself through Christmas, she decided as she leaned back into the chair, even if all she did was sleep and eat room-service food and watch this silly TV. She would sort out the rest of her life afterward.

By the next morning, thoroughly sick of her pity party of one, as well as the stark hotel room and obnoxious television, Marley put together a plan. She asked at the hotel desk where she might find an open grocery store, then she drove over and gathered up some breakfast ingredients. At a bit past nine o’clock, she surprised Ashton by showing up at his door. “Merry Christmas,” she said as she handed him the bags. “I bring you good tidings of great joy! I’m here to fix you Christmas breakfast.”

He laughed and set down the bags and hugged her. “Merry Christmas, Mom!”

“I’ll be right back with your present,” she told him.

It was a perfect morning. Ashton loved Walter the toucan. And he gave her a handmade drum, which she promised to treasure forever. “I plan to play it on the beach,” she told him as they were finishing up a delicious breakfast of French toast made from artisan bread, fresh fruit, and Black Forest ham.

“I’m so glad you came,” Ashton told her as they washed up the breakfast dishes. “It makes it seem more like Christmas. I know you’ll be welcome at the Christmas dinner this afternoon, but I think I should give my buddy Laurence a call, since he usually plans this amazing gourmet, sit-down feast.”

“It sounds lovely,” she told him. “But I think I’ll pass.”

“Are you sure?” He sounded a little disappointed, but she could also see relief in his eyes. He probably didn’t really relish the idea of dragging his mother along.

“Positive.” She smiled. “Abby is having a big shindig at the inn.”

“Oh, yeah, kind of like Thanksgiving. That was fun.”

“Yes. And this time her family’s there too.”

They finished up and hugged again, and although she knew she was leaving him with the impression that she was driving back to Clifden to spend the rest of the day with her friends, she consoled herself with the fact that she had never actually lied about it. She had simply said that Abby was having a Christmas dinner. He had assumed that meant she was going. How she actually spent the rest of the day was her choice.