Chapter 35
The sun shone brightly Christmas morning, almost blindingly so. Snow was no longer falling from the sky but was heaped fantastically on every surface, from the ground to the birdbath, from the branches of trees to the outcropping of rock along the left side of the backyard. Earlier, Nell had spotted a cardinal swooping across the front yard, a pop of scarlet that brought a smile to her face.
The King family was gathered around the kitchen table. Nell had made eggs Benedict for all three of them; the girls had long ago lost interest in pancakes shaped like angels.
“I am so going to miss your cooking when I’m away at school next year,” Felicity stated. “You’re going to send me care packages, right?”
Nell smiled. “Sure, but I don’t think eggs Benedict will travel well.”
Felicity was wearing the white gold and diamond cocktail ring that had belonged to her great aunt Prudence. It didn’t quite go with her plaid pajamas and fuzzy robe, but Felicity didn’t seem to mind. Molly had thanked her mother sincerely for the gift of the platter; Nell believed it would get good and frequent use wherever and with whomever her daughter established her own home.
Felicity suddenly dropped her fork on the table, sat back in her chair, and groaned. “I don’t think I can eat another bite all day after that breakfast.”
“Haven’t you ever heard of pacing yourself?” Molly asked with a smile.
Felicity groaned again. “Apparently not.”
“Shoveling will make you hungry again. We at least need to clear the driveway and the path to the front door.” Molly suddenly rose from the table. “Let’s go into the living room,” she said. “Fliss and I have one more present for you, Mom.”
“Like the sweater from L. L. Bean and the new leather gloves from the Bass outlet weren’t enough? Really, you shouldn’t have spent so much money on me.”
Felicity reached for her mother’s hand and pulled her up from her seat. “Just come on,” she said.
When they were in the living room, Molly directed her mother to the center of the couch and sat on her left. Felicity retrieved a package about the size of a trade paperback book from a drawer in the credenza and sat on her mother’s right.
“Go ahead,” she said. “Open it.”
“What are you two up to?” Nell asked as she carefully peeled back the wrapping paper to reveal a framed photograph of two smiling young women, each perched on one knee of a man in a Santa Claus costume. The young women were Molly and Felicity King. They were wearing elf hats. Molly wore a red sweater and a silver brooch in the shape of a snowflake. Felicity wore a green scarf and a brooch in the shape of a reindeer.
Tears sprang to Nell’s eyes. “This photo means everything to me,” she said. “Everything.”
“Good,” Molly told her, “because not everyone at Santa Central was happy about us wanting to sit on Santa’s lap. The mall guard told us it was just for children and that we had to leave, so I told him that Fliss and I were children and that we were having the picture taken for our mother as a surprise and if he didn’t let us on line he would be ruining a woman’s Christmas.” Molly grinned. “I might have hinted that you were sick and that this might be your last Christmas.”
Nell laughed and wiped a few remaining tears from her cheeks.
“Anyway, it was Fliss’s idea to get the picture taken,” Molly explained. “I wasn’t sure about it at first, but I’m glad we did it.”
“Me, too.” Nell put an arm around each of her daughters. “I was so focused on this Christmas possibly being our last together I almost forgot that we’re all here together now, and this moment in time is what counts the most.”
“Our last Christmas together?” Felicity said. “What are you talking about, Mom? Even if we move to California or London or wherever we’ll always come home to Yorktide and to you. Why wouldn’t we? You’ve been an awesome mother and a great role model.”
“Even though I never had a big exciting career?” Nell asked.
Molly laughed. “Nothing against having a big exciting career, but what kid wouldn’t prefer to come home to her mother after school rather than to an empty house? You did fine, Mom. What matters in the end is how much a child is loved.”
“I agree!” Felicity reached for the heavily decorated brown paper that had been wrapped around one of the presents Nell had given her. “And I’d say that anyone who takes the time to put together this amazing gift paper instead of just buying a cheap roll of shiny stuff at the grocery store has a lot of love to give her kids.”
“You’re okay with the fact that I didn’t get you the designer bag you wanted?” Nell asked.
“Yeah. It was crazy expensive. I don’t know what I was thinking. This Christmas is perfect just the way it is.”
“Except maybe for the stockings,” Molly said with a smile, pointing to Nell’s creations that were sitting under the tree in a lump.
“I think they’re . . . nice,” Felicity said lamely.
Nell laughed. “No they’re not. They’re awful. I can’t knit to save my life. You guys were right in teasing me about my going overboard this Christmas. The pomander balls, the baking, the crèche, the trees, the Advent calendar . . . I was trying to prove that nothing out there in the big wide world is better than what you have here at home.”
“Mom,” Felicity said with mock seriousness, “you’re kind of a nut, you know that?”
Molly gave her mother a one-armed hug. “But you’re our nut and we love you.”
“Thanks. I’ll miss you girls when you move on. But that’s okay. I want you to grow and live and love. I want you to accomplish every little thing you want to accomplish. Just do me a favor, and tell me all about it.”
“Every little thing?” Felicity asked teasingly.
“Okay, maybe not everything. Just the stuff that won’t cause a heart attack.”
Nell felt a deep sense of contentment as she sat on the couch between her daughters this Christmas morning. She knew for sure now that the nest would never truly be empty. Her children would never abandon her, just as she would never abandon them. Eric was right when he said that a parent never ceases to be a parent. That awful phrase “post-parental” was just wrong.
And now that she had welcomed poetry back into her life, she had yet another purpose to give her days meaning. “I’ve decided to sign up for a poetry course at YCC,” Nell announced. “It’s my Christmas present to myself.”
Felicity nodded. “Way to go, Mom.”
“I guess we should call Grandma and Grandpa Emerson,” Molly noted suddenly.
“Let’s not mention the fact that Eric Manville will be joining us for Christmas dinner,” Nell advised. “I suspect that information might elicit a response that won’t fit well with the spirit of the season.”
Nell took her cell phone from the pocket of her robe, punched in her parents’ number, and switched to speakerphone mode. Her mother answered after three rings. “Merry Christmas,” Nell, Molly, and Felicity chorused.
“Oh,” Jacqueline Emerson replied after a moment. “And to you.”
“Is Dad there?” Nell asked.
“Tal is out playing golf,” her mother informed them.
“What are you two doing for Christmas?” Felicity asked.
Jacqueline told them that they were having dinner with another couple at the best restaurant in town. “The wine list is renowned,” she said. “Nell, you never knew much about wine, did you?”
“No, Mom,” Nell said evenly. “I didn’t and I still don’t.”
The conversation went on in a desultory manner for a few moments before Jacqueline Emerson ended the call.
“You know,” Felicity said, “I don’t think Grandma is a happy person.”
“Not that she’d ever say anything to us about her feelings,” Molly added.
“I think you might be right, Fliss,” Nell said. She could remember very few occasions on which her mother had genuinely smiled, let alone laughed. Suddenly she felt a surge of sympathy for Jacqueline Emerson.
The miniature grandfather clock chiming the half hour interrupted Nell’s thoughts. “We’d better get moving or we’ll be late for the service,” she said, rising from the couch.
“How many years has it been since we went to church on Christmas?” Molly asked.
“Too many,” Nell replied. “Too many.”