Aunt Winnie loaded the first breakfast tray and, deftly pushing the door ajar with her foot, breezed through the open doorway with it. Minutes later, with slightly less flourish, I followed her out with my own tray. As I passed into the dining room, I heard Joan and Henry talking, their voices low.
“There’s nothing to worry about. It’ll be fine,” Henry soothed.
“But what if something goes wrong?”
“It won’t.”
“I hope so. I just can’t wait until it’s over,” she replied, her voice anxious. They stopped talking when they saw me and resumed eating. Henry made faint grunts of appreciation as he ate. I pretended that I hadn’t heard their conversation, much less Henry’s enthusiasm for his breakfast. I had made a ruckus the night before, and now I was padding around in tattered pink bunny slippers. I didn’t want to add “eavesdropper” to my list of bizarre behavior.
The rest of the morning went relatively quickly. After clearing the breakfast dishes, we made up the guests’ beds and cleaned the bathrooms. I had time for a quick shower before helping Aunt Winnie with the dinner preparations. Due to my pitiful cooking skills, I was assigned the simple tasks of chopping the vegetables and herbs. Aunt Winnie handled the trickier items, like the Gorgonzola sauce for the filets, and the dessert—her specialty—chocolate ganache cake.
The faint headache I had had earlier was now threatening to become a full-blown migraine. I didn’t need to look out the window to know that the weather must be bad; that’s the only time I get these kinds of headaches. Even so, I was still surprised at the bleak intensity of the sky when I finally stole a moment and went out into the back garden. Dark, heavy clouds hung low in the air, blocking out all but the smallest amount of light. A storm was definitely on the horizon, I thought, as I pulled my coat tightly around me and headed across the yard.
The lawn stretched out ahead of me, a thin layer of ice covering the brown grass. To the right and left of me, enormous rosebushes, their tan branches now bare, formed a spiky border. In the distance, I could see the rough blue-green waters of Nantucket Sound churning and roiling underneath white hats of foam. Off to one side stood a majestic and immense maple tree, under which sat a tall bird feeder, a white metal table, a bench, and several tall-backed chairs. This arrangement may have made for a charming spot in the summer, but in the dead of winter, it was terribly forlorn. Walking closer, I saw Joan Anderson hunched in one of the chairs, staring out at the ocean with tears streaming down her face. Not wanting to intrude, I stepped back, snapping a branch. She raised her head at the sound and immediately wiped her face. “Are you okay?” I asked, before realizing the absurdity of my question. Of course she wasn’t. She was sitting in the cold, alone, and crying. “I’m sorry,” I continued. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.” I turned to leave.
“No, please. Don’t go. I’m just being maudlin. Would you like to sit down?” She gestured to the bench.
I sat down awkwardly, not knowing what to say. Luckily, Joan was more in need of someone to talk to rather than someone to console her. “I don’t know what came over me,” she said. “I didn’t intend to come out here and start sobbing like this. But after a few minutes, the tears just started.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I was just thinking that the atmosphere was a little gloomy myself.”
“Maybe so,” she said with a half smile. “But being here again after so many years has brought back a lot of memories. I grew up near here, but everyone I knew has either died or moved away. That’s what I did—I moved to New York and started Miss Baxter’s Things of Yore. That’s how I met Henry, actually. He’d just inherited his business from his uncle. He was selling and I was buying.” She paused. “It’s funny. I never thought I’d marry. I was quite prepared to live out my life alone. I wasn’t some romantic waiting for my white knight, but Henry and I work well together.” She nodded to confirm this thought. A second later, her face clouded over again. “The truth is, this time of year is always hard for me. My sister died a few weeks before Christmas.” Tears welled up in her eyes. “We were so close. Our parents died when I was seventeen, you see, and … God, Vicky was so strong, even then. She was only a few years older than me, but she just stepped in and took over. I would have completely fallen apart if it hadn’t been for her. She made sure I went to college and had everything I needed. I adored her. And then one night coming home, she … she had an accident and …” She broke off. Throughout her painful narrative, Joan angrily clenched and unclenched her hands. They now lay limp in her lap. “Sometimes I still can’t believe she’s gone.”
I knew I had no words that could possibly comfort her, so I reached over and took her hand. I don’t know how long we sat like that, but after a while Joan squeezed my hand and stood up. “Thank you for listening,” she said, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. “I’d better go in now.” She slowly made her way across the lawn back to the house.
I stayed outside, thinking about Joan’s story and envying the closeness she’d shared with her sister. Ironically, my sister, Kit, also had a take-charge attitude regarding my life. But unlike Joan’s situation, the trait did not foster closeness. In fact, it did just the opposite. I was wondering what this said about me when I was suddenly assailed by the acidic aroma of cigarette smoke. Turning in my seat, I poked my head around the large trunk to see who was there. Daniel was crossing the yard to where I sat.
“Bloody hell!” he said, jumping back when he saw me. “You scared the piss out of me! What are you doing sitting out here alone? It’s beastly cold!”
He came over and sat down on the bench, casually throwing his arm on the seat behind me. My heart pounded like an adolescent schoolgirl’s. Oh, God. Next my palms would probably begin to sweat.
“You smoke?” I asked stupidly.
He laughed. “You didn’t know already? Poor Jackie must be slipping. I’m sure I told her just yesterday that I was ducking out for a quick fag.”
I sputtered with laughter. “I think you’re forgetting that has an entirely different meaning on this side of the pond.”
Daniel paused, cocking his head at me. “Oh. Right. Well, that does explain Jackie’s rather startled reaction.” He shifted his gaze out to the roiling water. “This really is a lovely property. I can see why Gerald was so upset to lose out on it.” He was quiet a moment. “So what are you doing out here alone?” he asked, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Are you hiding from that Peter bloke, or is it the cat?”
“Neither. I just came out to get some air. I have an awful headache.”
“Sorry to hear that. You’re still coming tonight, though, aren’t you?”
“Of course.”
“Here,” he said, moving closer. “I can’t stand to see a pretty girl in distress.” He slid his hand up my back and kneaded the muscles in my neck. It was an odd sensation, relaxing and trying to restrain myself from lewd behavior all at the same time. After a minute, I became aware that the mood had changed slightly. I don’t know if I leaned back into him or if he pulled me, but I suddenly found myself in his arms. “Hello,” he said softly and leaned down toward me.
“Elizabeth?!”
You have got to be kidding, I thought, as Aunt Winnie’s voice floated out across the yard. Daniel sat back, the mood broken. Aunt Winnie’s voice called out again, “Elizabeth? Are you out here?”
I stood up and waved. “Over here.”
“Oh, there you are. Can you help me for a moment?” She disappeared back into the house.
Hoping my face wasn’t awash with disappointment, I said, “Duty calls. Thanks for the neck rub.”
Daniel gave me a slow smile and I felt my insides liquefy in response. “Anytime,” he said. “Maybe we can continue our conversation later? It’s customary to start the New Year with a kiss in the States, too, isn’t it?”