Home > Winter Stroll (Winter #2)(3)

Winter Stroll (Winter #2)(3)
Author: Elin Hilderbrand

Ava, being the music teacher, hums the key for each song.

God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen.

The Holly and the Ivy.

Chestnuts Roasting.

The Ugly Sweater carolers wander the corridors of Our Island Home, singing, smiling, and waving at the infirm and the bedridden until they reach the common room where a small group of residents has gathered. Some of these elders clap and sing along, and one particularly spry couple, Bessie and Phil Clay, get up to dance. Then, suddenly, Roxanne Oliveria cuts in on the dance. Ava is scandalized at first, but she can soon tell that Phil loves it, and so does Bessie, who collapses in her wheelchair while Phil takes Roxanne for a few spins.

Sleigh Ride.

O Come, All Ye Faithful.

And then—sigh—“Jingle Bells.” Ava likes it even less this year than she did last year, but a Christmas without “Jingle Bells” is like a Halloween without jack-o’-lanterns, Valentine’s Day without roses—and so on. Ava has even provided each caroler with a cluster of tiny bells to shake at the appropriate times. “Jingle Bells” is the one song Roxanne belts out, albeit off-key. The residents are eating it up, singing along themselves. No matter how old one gets, one never forgets the words to “Jingle Bells.”

The residents of Our Island Home clap wildly for the carolers, and Ava leads everyone in a bow. Scott shakes hands with a few of their favorite residents. He volunteers here at Our Island Home every week, and now Ava plays the piano while he serves dinner on Friday nights. Ava has grown to love coming in; she even bought a Cole Porter songbook. Many of these older people feel sad, lonely, or neglected—and music, nearly more than anything else, reinvigorates them.

Roxanne was kind to dance with Phil Clay, Ava realizes. Roxanne is in the holiday spirit.

They climb into cars to head into town. Ava makes darn sure Roxanne isn’t riding with them. Instead, Roxanne goes with Shelby and her husband, Zack, and Zack’s friend Elliott, who plays the saxophone in a Bruce Springsteen cover band. Elliott would be a good match for Roxanne—what woman wouldn’t love an incarnation of Clarence Clemons?—but he’s too old. He’s nearly fifty.

Ava and Scott are riding with Kevin, who “isn’t drinking” so that he can be put on midnight duty with the baby, Genevieve. But then, he passes Ava a flask, and she takes a slug: Jameson. Of course.

Her family!

Ava says, “Are you excited about the baptism?”

He says, “Well, I wish Patrick and Bart could be here, obviously. It’s a little weird being the only man left standing.”

“Dad,” Ava says.

“Yeah, but Dad doesn’t look good lately. Have you noticed?”

“He’s had a crappy year,” Ava says. “His wife left him, and he nearly lost the inn. There was no way it felt good to have Mom roll in and save it.”

“She really did save it, though,” Kevin says. “We’ve been full all year. With a wait list!” Kevin has taken over the day-to-day operations of the inn, and Isabelle manages the housekeeping and cooking, and because they’re both under the same roof, they can split time with Genevieve. “And it wasn’t just the money.”

“I know,” Ava says. “But the money didn’t hurt.”

Margaret Quinn injected a million dollars into the inn, like adrenaline into a failing heart. But she also books a room for herself at the inn the first weekend of every month. During those weekends, she makes herself available to the guests. She hangs out in the kitchen, she helps Isabelle make the Reuben eggs Benedict, she pours coffee and draws routes in black Sharpie on the bike maps. And occasionally she holds forth on Kofi Annan, Pope Francis, Raúl Castro. The hotel guests never want to leave. They Facebook their pictures and Tweet and Instagram about the Winter Street Inn.

Margaret Quinn drew on my map! #familyheirloom #nantucket #winterstreetinn

Kelley was grateful for Margaret’s help, he was very vocal about that, but neither Ava nor Kevin could figure out exactly what was going on with their parents. Margaret had her own room—room 10, George’s old room, reserved especially for her—but Ava and Kevin knew that something had gone on between their parents the Christmas before. Over the course of the past year, there have been moments when they’ve seemed to be more than just friends. In July, they went for a long bike ride and came home completely drenched because they’d ended up at the beach and decided to swim in their clothes.

But some weekends, Dr. Drake Carroll, the pediatric brain surgeon, comes to stay with Margaret. Drake has been a handful of times, and he stays in room 10 with Margaret and they act like a couple in love. One rainy October day, they didn’t emerge from their room even once. And how does Kelley feel about that?

Ava asked her father, “Does it bother you when Drake shows up?”

Kelley shrugged. “Drake is a great guy. And he’s sending a lot of guests our way—his patients, other doctors. I can’t complain about Drake.”

Ava gave him a skeptical look and Kelley said, “It’s a situation that requires a lot of maturity. Thankfully, your mother and I know how to act like adults.”

Scott parks on Main Street and Shelby’s husband, Zack, pulls up alongside him. Nantucket is all decked out for the holidays. Along either side of the cobblestone street are brightly lit trees, each decorated by a class at the elementary school. And at the top of Main Street stands the big tree, dressed in nearly two thousand white lights. The lighting of the trees takes place the Friday after Thanksgiving, when the entire island, it seems, gathers on the cobblestones, waiting for the instant when all of the trees light up at once, a real ahhhhh moment that captures the wonder of the season. This year, Ava and Scott took the baby, Genevieve, to the tree lighting. Scott carried Genevieve in the BabyBjörn, and he and Ava held hands and people who didn’t know them thought the baby was theirs, which had given Ava unexpected pleasure. Later that night, when they had returned Genevieve to the waiting arms of her parents, Ava had said to Scott, “Can you see us having a family?”

Scott had said, “I dream of it every day.”

The shopwindows are all lit up, and decorated with snowmen and candy canes, antique toys and working train sets. Ava inhales a big breath of cool air and gets a whiff of evergreen. She loves nothing more than Christmas on Nantucket. She believes in the magic.

“Scott!” Roxanne yells. She teeters over the cobblestones in her high-heeled white leather boots topped with snowy white fur. “I can’t walk in these shoes. You’re going to have to help me.”

Ava rolls her eyes. She can’t believe Roxanne is so obviously pursuing Scott’s attention when she knows Ava and Scott are a couple. But Scott, ever the gentleman and constitutionally unable to turn down anyone in need, no matter how ludicrous that need may be, offers Roxanne one arm, and Ava his other arm, and the three of them pick their way over the cobblestones to the brick sidewalk.

Ava is relieved to reach the bar at the Boarding House, which is warm, cozy, and filled with convivial chatter. Ava is very ready for a drink, but they have all agreed that they will sing two songs before they order.

Ava scours her songbook for short carols. But Barry, the groundskeeper of the high school fields, who has an impressive baritone, suggests “Rudolph.”

Ugh! Ava thinks. She is a classicist and considers “Rudolph” a complete abomination. However, she can’t deny that it’s a crowd pleaser. While they’re doing songs Ava truly loathes, she figures they might as well segue into “Winter Wonderland.”

The assembled crowd applauds, and there is a sharp wolf whistle that comes from the far right corner. The hair on the back of Ava’s neck stands up. She knows that whistle.

She looks over. Nathaniel is sitting alone at the bar with a bottle of Whales Tale ale in front of him. He waves.

KELLEY

Kelley has heard from thousands of people offering their positive thoughts, prayers, and healing energy in regard to Bart. He has received emails from his old friends in Perrysburg, Ohio, from guests of the Winter Street Inn whom he hasn’t seen in over a decade, and from guys who worked on the commodities desk with him at J.P. Morgan in New York a lifetime earlier.

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