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Rudy Vogel's ear-to-ear whiskers held more gray than brown. Their undefined edges suggested he didn't waste money on razors.
"So you want to rent a corner in my place again, do you?" He scratched what for want of a better term could be termed his beard and squinted at the dregs of a beer Joe had bought him.
Joe tilted back in one of Finnegan's sturdier chairs and waited. Vogel verged on seedy in the collarless shirt and shabby jacket he always wore, though Joe suspected he could afford better. The man dealt in scrap and salvage and had a reputation for always getting the best in a deal. It had won him few friends. Joe had found him unfailingly honest, and that you came out better if you let Vogel do most of the talking instead of tipping your hand.
"I'd need five bucks more than what you paid last year," Vogel said shrewdly.
"Come on, Rudy. It doesn't cost you a cent to have me there. You can't claim your expenses have gone up."
Vogel cackled and leaned back thumbing his suspenders. "I let you use that lathe and drill."
"Two bucks more sounds about right to me."
The salvage man slapped the table and shot to his feet, extending his hand to seal the agreement.
"You drive a hard bargain, Joe. Want a ride home? I'm going to pick up a couple of things over at Padilla's."
Day-old bread and marked down meat, Joe guessed. He'd seen Vogel there a couple of times haggling. The man sure liked to squeeze a nickel. Vogel's car was the worst rat-trap Joe ever had been in and so ancient it still required cranking. Every few blocks it coughed and died, producing a string of curses from Vogel as he restarted it.
"What I need is a truck," lamented Vogel the third time it stalled. "Good used one. Haul stuff in it — but who's got that kind of money?"
"You do, Rudy, if you'd spend some."
Joe had gotten out to take a turn at cranking. He saw surprise flicker in Vogel's eyes, substantiating what Joe had said. The engine caught. Joe jumped in. He could have walked home in less time, but the truth was he found Vogel's brusqueness and miserly ways entertaining. He had welcomed the routine of his uncles' fishing boat after his last trip north, but two weeks of hauling out nets had produced a taste in his mouth for something more. Tinkering, maybe. It was why he'd sought out Vogel.
"Keep an eye out for a busted engine," he said as Vogel let him out in front of the house.
"Got one back there now. An Odyssey." Vogel gave a sly grin, revealing a tooth edged in gold. The bastard had planned all along to have Joe working in the corner this winter.
Joe went up the steps to the house whistling merrily. Two could play Vogel's game. He had money squirreled away too, enough to buy a dozen new engines if he wanted. What was he going to do with it? What good was it going to do sitting there?
He opened the door to the fragrance of stew with meat in it. The extra money he slipped Irene was giving all of them a treat. Even Nana, whose appetite had dwindled to almost nothing, would finish a bowl of this, gumming the beef Irene shredded for her. His uncles sat sharing the paper, Vic looking at something inside and Drake with the sports page. Joe tossed his coat in a chair and sat down on the end of the couch next to Drake.
"So how was Finnegan's?" Uncle Vic asked without looking up.
"Barlow was feeling flush, buying drinks for folks. Been running in booze from boats offshore, I figure. Let me ask you something. If you had it to do again now, would you buy a fishing boat?"
Vic's hawk nose appeared as he lowered the paper. "What are you talking about? What else would I do?"
"That's what I'm asking."
Drake put his paper down to listen. Vic frowned.
"You fevered, Joe? Sometimes you don't make good sense. Of course I'd buy a boat. Man's got to feed his family."
The kitchen door swung open. Rita came out with a blouse folded carefully over one arm. "Thanks, Arliss. I couldn't have worn it again if I'd had to fix it myself."
Arliss, behind her, pocketed a couple of coins.
"Hi, Joe." Rita paused and looked shyly down. Her performance for the elder Santaynas never failed to tickle Joe. Her lush beauty made the room around her seem drab.
"How're things, Rita?"
Before she could speak the front door slammed and Rose sulked in.
"My seam pulled out again," she complained to Arliss.
"And a good day to you," her father said pointedly.
Rose ignored him. Arliss, looking more worn than usual next to Rita's energy, shifted the toddler she held on one hip.
"The cloth's getting too old to hold the stitches. I'll see what I can do."
"Forgot something," Joe murmured leaving the couch as an idea formed. He went out as abruptly as Rose had entered, aware of startled expressions behind him.
Vogel was just starting to crank his rattletrap. On the car seat Joe saw two loaves of bread and a package of meat.
"Hey, listen. There's something else I need," Joe said tucking his hands beneath his arms for warmth. "A favor."
Vogel paused in his cranking and eyed Joe warily.
"I'm going to get my cousin a sewing machine for Christmas. New. She needs one bad." Joe's breath made clouds in the air before him. "But I'm going to tell her it's one you picked up and I fixed the motor. Okay?"
"Don't want her to know what you spent?"
"Something like that."
Vogel's mostly-gray whiskers split in a grin. He shot Joe a look of speculation as he bent to crank. "If you've got money enough to play Santy Claus, why don't you bring me that truck?"
***
The car in the driveway was strange; likewise the dark haired couple in the parlor when Kate walked in.
"Mr. and Mrs. Finer, this is my middle daughter, Kate," her mother announced.
The man rose and nodded. The woman smiled formally. She was small and faintly exotic. Her clothes were expensive.
"How do you do?" She studied Kate with intelligent eyes. "We understand you and your sister were getting a tree for the holidays."
"Yes. Aggie ran upstairs for a minute. I'm afraid we thought our soon-to-be brother-in-law had gotten a new car."
"We must be on our way so we don't interfere with your plans," said Mr. Finer, still standing.
His wife seemed to hesitate, then offered a delicate hand to Mrs. Hinshaw. "I'm pleased we've met. I'll look forward to your telephone call." In her eyes Kate caught the flicker of restrained warmth.
"Well. What did you think of them?" her mother asked when she'd seen them out. "I won't have Woody in school catching things from other children, but I placed an ad in the paper for someone to bring a child to be tutored with him." Her chin rose slightly. "They're Jewish. I think your father would applaud that. At least Woody will have contact with someone besides that beastly little Rupert."
Kate could scarcely find words. "Bravo, Mama!"
"For what?" asked Rosalie coming in with Arthur, an angular, good-natured man so quiet Kate found it hard to imagine him stepping into a pulpit to deliver sermons.
They, too, voiced approval for Mama's plans, then went to nail a stand on the tree Kate and Aggie had just dragged home. When they were out of earshot, Kate turned back to her mother.
"When will you need money? I've got some put by."
Her mother's mouth was set. She shook her head.
"I shan't. I sold my mother's brooch. It will pay for our half of the tutoring and give me a bit for Christmas for Woody."
Kate felt sick. Her mother had cherished that brooch. Before she could speak, her brother and Aggie burst in.
"Look, Katie!" Woody cried with excitement. "It's true what Mr. Santayna said! My exercises are making muscles. I can lift myself up!" Grasping the arms of the chair he demonstrated.
Kate was overcome by a wave of love for her family, each of them struggling along and none of them knowing the others' private griefs. Yet as the tree was raised in its familiar spot, and boxes of glass and wooden ornaments were unpacked, a loneliness that seemed to have no boundaries and no end invaded her. Arthur and Rosalie bubbled with plans for their future. Aggie would laugh and dance with friends tonight. Woody had the prospect of a new acquaintance. Even Mama looked happy immersed in family and routine.
She alone had no place. Her world had slipped away leaving her behind, driftwood bobbling after the rum fleet. Ties she'd tried to maintain were already fraying. Letters from college friends came less frequently. With paper chain in hand, an outsider in her own home, she drifted to stand by the window.
Out in the hall the telephone rang. Probably one of Aggie's friends firming up plans for the evening.
"Kate... it's for you."
Surprised, she went to answer. She had let herself be talked into going out with the brother of one of Aggie's friends, but the evening had been as boring for him as it was for her. She had gone to a lecture on anthroposophy and signed a list for literature, which she now regretted.
"Hello?"
"Kate? It's Joe." His voice sounded crackly. The lines weren't as clear in winter. Imperfect as it was, it nudged the awful loneliness away for a moment.
"Hi," she said. "Getting ready for Christmas?"
"I guess. Have something picked out for the Irish aunties anyway."
Kate felt herself smile.
"Listen. It occurred to me we never celebrated the end of a successful business season. I thought we should. I thought maybe you'd let me take you to lunch day after tomorrow."
Her eyes overflowed. She felt the same relief and gratitude she'd experienced on the Folly when the blinding fog that could have killed them all had lifted.
"I'd like that." She wiped wetness from her cheeks.
"Your voice sounds funny. We must have a bad connection."
"Yes. Shall I meet you somewhere?"
"The library? Half past eleven?"
"Yes, fine." She ought to hang up, but she felt briefly connected to someone who thought about the same sorts of things she did, even though as often as not from the opposite perspective. "Try not to get thrown through any more windows before then," she joked.
He laughed. "I'll do my best."
She went back to the parlor where Arthur had settled himself in a chair and was lighting his pipe. The tree looked splendid. The air was fragrant with gingerbread men Peg had baked. Aggie appeared from the kitchen bearing a silver tray filled with fruitcake and cookies.
"Wait," Kate said on impulse. "Don't serve the eggnog. I'll run next door and ask Mrs. Cole and her companion if they'd like to join us. They've so little fun."
"Kate, are you mad? The woman's odd as a fish with a hat!" Mama gasped.
Ignoring their stunned expressions, Kate dashed out.
***
Felix dropped the receiver back onto its stand and stared angrily at his plush apartment. Everything that could go wrong today had. The stupid little strawberry blonde had turned up pregnant. A truck had been hijacked and two of the boss's men killed. And Aggie Hinshaw, the green-eyed little bitch, had turned him down when he asked her to dinner.
Sweeping a hand out, he hurled telephone, lamp and crystal cigarette box onto the floor.
***
Kate wore a blue wool dress almost as bright as the sky. Under one arm she carried two small parcels wrapped in brown paper. Joe was standing in front of the library when she arrived. His topcoat looked new and fitted him splendidly.
"I hope you weren't waiting long." She was unaccountably short of breath.
"Just got here."
"Your uncles aren't fishing today?"
"I've got a young cousin, Mike, always wants to go out. Thought he might as well have a turn since there's no school."
They stood looking at each other and Kate couldn't think of anything else to say; wondered how they would find enough to talk about over lunch. Joe seemed to feel the awkwardness too. He looked slightly away, his smile self-conscious.
"Seems kind of strange meeting when it's not to lay plans for breaking the law."
She laughed and the panic that was stealing in retreated.
"I borrowed a car. It's up a ways."
As they walked he told her about passing time with engine repair, how one particular model had a design flaw that caused them to fail.
"It's more like a game than work. Seeing if I can figure out the problem. And the old guy I rent from's a character."
He entertained her with his description of Rudy Vogel. A tightwad in most ways, the man had taken in a stray kitten that wanted for nothing, right down to a cushion-lined basket which Vogel had fixed for it at the warehouse.
The restaurant they stopped at by Beverly Bridge was cozy and pleasant. From their window-side table Kate saw dozens of boats bobbing on mooring ropes in spite of the season. They suggested movement and travel and people busily engaged in comings and goings.
"Here's something for Christmas." Joe removed a package that looked suspiciously like a book from his overcoat pocket.
"Shall I open it now?" she asked with an eagerness she'd forgotten since childhood.
"If you like."
"Then you can open yours as well." Feeling suddenly nervous about her selection she passed him the parcels she'd been carrying. "The one underneath's just some candy and a card game for the children at your house."
"They'll like that. Thanks."
The brown shop paper Kate untied revealed a copy of Joyce's Ulysses. It summoned memories of the hotel in Saint John.
"How wonderful! Thank you. Did you have to knock at a cellar door and give a password?"
"Not quite. Smuggled books are harder to find than smuggled whiskey, though."
Their eyes met and they laughed furtively as a waiter brought a list of the day's dishes. Joe opened his gift, a collection of poems by W.B. Yeats.
"I didn't know if you liked poetry."
"If it's not about shepherds and syrupy stuff." He smiled suddenly, enlivening the room with his energy. "It's good to see you, Kate."
"It seems like forever."
"Funny how rum-running became the main thing and now it's hard settling back."
"I'd hate to do it for the rest of my life," Kate said with a shudder. "I like order. Predictability."
His cheeks creased. "No you don't. You like wind in your hair and storms and seeing new things even when they scare you to death. You might not have tried it if fate hadn't nudged you, but it suits you to a T."
She laughed again, mortified at the possibility of truth in what he was saying. Joe's deeper chuckle wound around hers. They'd been speaking softly, conspirators here as they were at sea. Now diners at a nearby table paused to glance at them. Pressing a hand to her mouth Kate composed herself.
They talked about Billy, who had turned a deaf ear to the idea of a savings account despite Joe's advice that he wouldn't be making rum-running wages the rest of his life. They enjoyed a brief argument over an article they'd both read in Harper's. Kate told about Woody's improved vigor and upcoming classes. Joe described the Christmas gift he'd found for his aunties, a cage with two parakeets.
Time passed quickly, even though people came and went at the other tables. With guilt Kate recognized that she was talking to Joe as freely as she'd once talked to Theo. Coffee arrived and nothing remained to prolong the meal. Reaching under the tweed of his jacket Joe produced a leatherbound pad and a pencil. Kate watched his hands. They were well-tended, only on second glance showing evidence of hard labor. Today, in his suit, he might easily pass for a scientist or explorer.
"The market across from where I live has a phone," he said, suddenly serious. He slid a page from the pad across the table to her. The numbers on it were crisp and precise, as was the address below. "If you ever need anything — anything I can do — call and they'll get me."
A few flakes of snow fell languidly as they left the restaurant. Joe took her elbow.
"I suppose you need to get back." The reluctance in his voice echoed her own.
"Actually, I'm the only one in the family who seems to have nothing to do these days."
"Let's go to the Peabody."
The rest of the world was busy with Christmas caroling and holiday plans and they had the museum almost to themselves. The afternoon felt enchanted. They strolled amidst objects from Salem's past and curiosities from the Age of Sail, but the greatest attraction for both of them were exotic treasures from the China trade: swords and elaborate silk outfits, porcelain dishes and intricately carved furniture. Joe smiled at a gleaming jade statue.
"Kind of reminds you of Mrs. Cole's place, doesn't it?"
Laughing, Kate told him about inviting the two old ladies for eggnog and then sitting terrified Mrs. Cole would say something about her rum-running.
Twilight was approaching when they finally drove up the street to her home. Joe parked on the gravel drive and walked with her to the front door.
"I haven't enjoyed myself so much in ages," Kate said.
"Me either."
They stood in awkward silence as they had at the library that morning. The world around them had grown still. The air itself seemed to connect them. Joe's breathing slowed and then resumed its steady course.
"Merry Christmas, Kate."
"Merry Christmas, Joe."
She watched him drive away into the growing dusk, and then, in a buoyant mood, let herself into the house. At the sound of the door closing Aggie burst into view. Her face was pale under the rouge she put on her cheeks. Their mother came close on her heels, looking equally tense.
"Kate. Thank God you're home!" she exclaimed. "It's Theo. He's... he's tried to take his own life."