Bearing up pretty well, I thought, watching Daddy practically slobber all over Darlene. Aloud I said, “He totaled his car.”
“What’s he driving, then?”
“A rental. A dark blue Taurus. He’s ordered a Chrysler PT but it won’t be delivered for another three months.”
I found myself wishing the good doctor were giving Daddy advice on the dangers of immoderate drinking, but I suspected that both men were enabling each other well into their fourth or fifth cocktail. LouElla nattered on about a conspiracy between the oil producers and the auto industry to put the nation’s railroads out of business and I nodded appreciatively, but my attention wandered. Suddenly, reflected in the window behind LouElla, Darryl passed behind me and into the kitchen and I saw my chance to escape. “I’ve got to go check on the baby,” I said. I gestured toward my father. “Keep an eye on him while I’m gone, will you?”
LouElla nodded, the crystal globule in her tiara glittering in the candlelight. “Don’t you worry, my dear.”
Eager to hear what Emily had to say about Darryl, I retreated to the living room, but Emily was nowhere in sight. I flopped down on the sofa next to Chloe, who was still sleeping like… well, like a baby. I touched her face gently. If I could just close my eyes for a minute maybe all this would go away. Maybe when I opened them again it would be just me, Chloe, Emily, and Paul, and my father would walk through the door, smiling, holding my mother’s hand.
I felt the cushion next to me shift, and I opened a damp eye to find Emily facing me, her legs tucked under her and her arm stretched along the back of the sofa. “What’s wrong, Mom?”
I had a hard time focusing on her face through a sheen of tears. “It’s just too hard! Our first Christmas without your grandmother is bad enough, but this?”
Emily handed me a paper napkin with holly berries on it. “I know. Daddy told me about the wedding.”
I handed the napkin back. “I’m not going to cry! I refuse to let that woman get to me!”
Emily tucked the napkin into her sleeve as if not really believing she wouldn’t just have to hand it back to me shortly. Next to me, Chloe stirred, her little mouth working as if tasting something sweet. I laid a hand on her chubby leg. “I’m very glad your father made arrangements for us to stay in Chestertown tonight, Emily. I wouldn’t relish the drive home.”
“Sure you want Chloe and me, too? I mean, we wouldn’t want to cramp your style.”
Her face wore such a serious look that I had to laugh. “Don’t be silly. This is supposed to be a family weekend.”
I downed what was left of my punch in three short gulps. I found myself looking forward to the cool night air, the short walk back to the Imperial Hotel, a hot bath, snuggling down into the scrumptious antique bed in room 309 with Paul.
My head went all balloony. “Let’s find your father and blow this joint,” I said. A few minutes later I liberated my husband from the animated attentions of a stubby matron wearing a top that glittered like Times Square. “Let’s get out of here,” I whispered.
“Don’t you want to bid a fond good night to the happy couple?”
“Not particularly.”
“Hannah!”
I bounced my forehead three times against his chest. “Oh, all right, but my heart’s not in it. I suppose we should remind Daddy that he’s agreed to join us for lunch at the hotel tomorrow.”
“Isn’t Darlene coming, too?”
I shook my head. “Noon is too early for Her Majesty, it seems.”
Paul crooked a finger under my chin and tilted my face toward his. “You’re up to some mischief, aren’t you? I can see it in your eyes.”
“Unless you call trying to talk him out of a disastrous marriage mischief, no.” I widened my eyes in mock innocence.
Paul threw back his head and roared. I began to giggle. Sometimes it’s an advantage having a husband who can read you like a book, just as long as it’s not cover to cover.
8
At one end of Darlene’s front porch two guys were arguing football in a haze of Marlboro Lights, so Paul and I waited at the upwind end for Emily to bundle Chloe in her pink bunny snowsuit. My farewells to our host and hostess had been far from satisfactory. A tepid smile and a limp hand from Darlene and from Dad, a boozy kiss that went wide of the mark-my cheek-and landed squarely on my ear. I filled my lungs with the cool night air, heavily scented with the dusky smell of wood smoke that was curling from a hundred nearby chimneys. I’d had a bit more to drink than was good for me and was counting on the night air to clear out the cobwebs. I wondered how my sisters, especially Ruth, would react to the news of Daddy’s impromptu wedding. Perhaps I’d send each of them an e-mail and stay out of town until the fireworks were over.
When Emily appeared, Paul plucked Chloe from her arms, hoisted the baby to his shoulders, and trotted down the sidewalk ahead of us. Emily and I followed at a more leisurely pace.
“So,” I said, “what did the charming Darryl have to say?”
Emily linked her arm through mine. “Reminds me of somebody I used to date. Jimmy, remember? The Harley freak?”
“How could I forget?”
Emily chuckled. “Darryl’s harmless enough for a self-centered prick. He kept twitching his pecs. Guess I was supposed to swoon at his feet.”
I jiggled Emily’s arm encouragingly. “So, what did he say?”
“Not much. His dad keeled over from a coronary, his stepdad died in a plane crash. Darryl didn’t know much about husband number three, the Tinsley guy, except to say that he lived in Fall River, Massachusetts, and was in real estate.”
We turned into the parking lot of the Imperial Hotel, where our car was still parked. Through a wide gateway, the parking lot gave way to a courtyard and garden where evergreen shrubs twinkled with thousands of white pin lights. Wreaths of fresh holiday greens adorned both sides of the double door. When Emily and I pushed our way through into the lobby, Paul already stood at the elevator opposite the reception desk punching buttons.
“If there’s anything you need, just let me know.” The young desk clerk, probably a Washington College student, smiled at us from behind the counter. As we stepped inside the elevator and the door closed on her fresh-scrubbed face I waved. “We will!” I was already picturing the Parlor Suite with its red swag drapes, lace curtains, pink-and-white striped wallpaper, reproduction Victorian lamps, and the double bed with its ornate Victorian headboard. Most of all the bed.
Once inside our room, I peeled off my holiday regalia, draped it over an antique chair, and crawled beneath the comforter, just for a moment, to wait for Paul to get out of the shower.
The next thing I knew, Paul was snoring, open-mouthed, beside me and morning sunlight was kissing the railing of the verandah just outside our window. I peeked at my watch. Nearly ten o’clock! Without waking Prince Charming, I stepped out of bed, rummaged through my overnight bag for the copy of Longitude I was reading, and headed for a long soak in the tub. Through the wall I could hear the TV playing in Emily’s room next door; she’d be watching cartoons with Chloe, pretending not to enjoy them.
I was up to the chapter about sauerkraut kicking scurvy overboard on James Cook’s second circumnavigation when Paul tapped on the bathroom door. “Sweetheart?”
“Ummm?”
“Mind if I come in?”
“Uh-uh.”
“Is that an uh-uh yes or an uh-uh no?”
I was feeling limp, like an overcooked noodle. “That’s a come-in-quickly-and-close-the-door-behind-you.” I didn’t want any of the delicious steam to escape.
Paul slipped his narrow body through the doorway. Wearing only his briefs, he stood in front of the sink and peered into the mirror. “You better get a move on, sweetie.” He grabbed a washcloth and wiped the mirror free of condensation, then began to shave.