Mitzi used to love a lot of things—yoga, gardening, reading poetry in the bath, scrapbooking, collecting shells and driftwood on the beach—and anything that had to do with Christmas. She used to spend hours making her own wrapping paper, perfecting her mulled cider recipe, and hiking through the state forest to cut greens, holly branches, and bittersweet.
But not anymore.
Mitzi maneuvers herself past George and the redhead and slips into the next room, where there is an elaborate crèche set that has been hand-carved out of some yellow waxy substance.
Mitzi stands before it, temporarily awed.
“Soap,” the docent says to her. “It’s all carved from soap.”
Mitzi looks at the kneeling camels and the shepherds and wise men and thinks: desert, Afghanistan.
Bart Bart Bart Bart Bart.
She heads out the back door, then through the side yard to the front of the house where she waits for George. From down the street, she hears “The Little Drummer Boy.” She closes her eyes and sings quietly along, pretending that—wherever he is—Bart can hear her. I played my best for him, ba-rumpa-bum-bum.
George emerges from the house with the redhead a few moments later, laughing like Santa HO-HO-HO! When he sees Mitzi, he sobers up.
“Hello there, Mrs. Claus,” he says. “I was wondering what became of you.”
The redhead peels off, heading for the next house down the street. “Nice chatting with you, George,” she says. “I’ll give you a call about that hat.”
“You do that, Mary Rose,” George says. “Happy Stroll.”
Mitzi drinks from the flask. Normally, drinking takes the edge off her anxiety and sadness. It makes her feel like she’s floating above the earth and that nothing is quite real. But tonight, on Nantucket, her old, strange home, everything feels jagged and in-her-face painful.
“Why is she going to call you about the hat?” Mitzi asks. “She can just order it online.”
“She was a nice woman,” George says.
Mitzi shrugs. She nearly mentions the resemblance between George’s new friend Mary Rose and his ex-wife, Patti, but she doesn’t want a fight. She takes a deep breath of cold night air. “I know you’re not going to like this,” she says, “but I’m going to walk over to the inn.”
“Mitzi,” George says. He’s agreed to come to Nantucket only as long as Mitzi behaved herself, which means no harassing Kelley or the kids at the inn.
“I need to,” she says.
George has been kind and indulgent with Mitzi to a fault, she knows. But now, he shakes his head in disgust. “If you go to the inn, you’re going alone,” he says.
She nods once.
“Fine,” he says. “I’m going to continue on the tour, maybe try to catch up with Mary Rose.”
Possibly, he’s trying to make Mitzi jealous, but it’s one of a thousand emotions that are beyond her.
“Okay,” she says. “Have fun.”
AVA
Things at the Ugly Christmas Sweater Caroling party get awkward quickly.
Nathaniel Oscar is here, at the Boarding House. Ava is the only one who has seen him… so far. She’s so stunned, she can’t even bring herself to wave back at him.
She taps Scott on the shoulder. “We need to leave,” she says.
“Leave?” he says. “We just got here.” He accepts a glass of red wine from Jason, the bartender. Ava assumes it’s for her—she needs a drink, pronto—but then Scott hands the glass off to Roxanne, who is perched on a barstool on Scott’s other side.
“You got Roxanne a drink?” Ava says.
“Yours is coming,” Scott says. “Calm down.”
She isn’t going to be petty. It doesn’t matter who gets a drink first. Ava needs to talk to Jennifer, but Jennifer is several people away, deep in conversation with Shelby and Zack.
Ava feels a tap on her shoulder. Nathaniel. But when she turns, she sees it’s Kevin.
“Sis, I’m heading out. The inn is full and Isabelle has the baby. Plus, Mom is coming in tonight.”
Ava nods. Margaret was sorry to miss the Ugly Christmas Sweater Caroling party, but she broadcasts on Fridays and generally doesn’t make it to the island until late Friday evening or first thing Saturday morning, depending on whether she’s flying commercial or private. It’s private tonight, with her friends Alison and Zimm, furriers-to-the-stars, who are sponsoring the black-tie event tomorrow night at the Whaling Museum.
“Thanks for coming,” Ava says to Kevin. “I appreciate it.”
He gives her a hug. “No prob. I can’t wait to take this sweater off.”
“Yeah,” Ava says. “Me either.” If she had thought strategically, she would have worn a cute, sparkly top underneath.
Kevin’s eyes wander over Ava’s head. “Um… Ava? I hate to be the bearer of questionable news? But Nathaniel is sitting over there in the corner.”
“Yes,” she says. “I’m aware.”
Kevin grins and claps her on the shoulder. “Good luck with that,” he says.
Ava still has no drink. Scott is at the bar, but he’s listening with rapt attention to whatever Roxanne is saying, his foot propped on the bottom rung of Roxanne’s stool.
Fine, she thinks.
She heads to the other side of the bar. If Scott notices her leaving, he’ll think she’s headed to the ladies’ room. When Ava looks up, Nathaniel’s eyes are locked on hers. Her sweater starts to itch. She tells herself to turn around, take Scott’s hand, plant a juicy kiss on his lips, whatever it will take for Roxanne to buzz off and Nathaniel to get up and leave.
But instead, she heads straight for Nathaniel. Nothing good can come of this.
He breaks into a big smile. “Looking good, Billy Ray,” he says.
It’s their old joke, and she can’t help herself, she smiles. “Feeling good, Louis.” Then she says, “You’re back.”
“That I am,” he says. He stands up to give her a—well, it should have been just a friendly hug, but it turns into a squeeze. Ava has always loved the way Nathaniel smells. Like wood shavings and apples.
Ava pulls away. Nathaniel sits back down and offers Ava the stool next to his, which is conveniently empty.
She says, “I can’t stay. I’m with… people.” She turns around to check on Scott—he’s still talking to Roxanne and hasn’t noticed Ava missing.
“You’re with Scott,” Nathaniel says. “You’re still dating him.”
“Yes,” she says.
“But you’re not engaged?” Nathaniel takes hold of Ava’s ringless left hand. “I thought you were so desperate to be engaged.”
“Not desperate,” Ava says.
“I see Shelby is pregnant,” Nathaniel says.
“Yes,” Ava says.
“Are you jealous?” Nathaniel asks.
“Jealous?” Ava says. “Shelby is my best friend. I’m thrilled for her.” Ava had felt a tiny pinch of something when Shelby announced she was pregnant. It wasn’t jealousy so much as fear that Ava would be left behind. She desperately wanted a husband and children.
“But you’re happy with Scott, right?” Nathaniel says. “Happier than you were with me?”
“It was never a contest,” Ava says.
“It felt that way,” Nathaniel says. “He won, I lost.”
You bought me rubber boots for Christmas, Ava thought. Although the boots weren’t the problem. The problem was that Nathaniel had always taken Ava for granted. He never made her feel special. He never treasured her the way Scott does.
Ava glances back at Scott. Still enthralled with Roxanne. What could Mz. Ohhhhhh be saying that’s so interesting? Ava doesn’t feel like Scott’s treasure presently.
Ava says, “So, how was the Vineyard?”
“It was lonely,” Nathaniel says. “The house I’m building is way out on the beach on Chappy. Beautiful spot, just not a lot of people. My apartment was in Edgartown. I would eat downstairs at this place called Atria most nights. The bartenders tolerated me. I got into a lot of heated discussions about which island is better.”