AT 29 (69 page)

Christmas Day was filled with all that could be expected from excited children opening presents under the tree. Breakfast followed with constant chatter and laughter. A long hillside bordered the barn. Jimmy took the girls sledding with Joe while Peggy and Alice cleaned up and began preparations for the mid-afternoon feast. Red fell asleep in a chair by the fire. Hillary slipped across the field to her house to get more wine for dinner. As they waited at the top of the hill for the girls to climb back up from a run, Joe opened up.

“That's some song you wrote for my wife.”

Jimmy eyed Joe. “In the spirit of friendship. I hope you understand.”

“It's nice to know someone else sees her the way I do. From the minute I laid eyes on her, never a doubt. It's the most beautiful song I've ever heard. I want to thank-you for doing that for her and for me and my girls.” He nodded at his daughters climbing the hill. “Sometimes you can't teach them the regular way. Sometimes a song or a poem says it better. Clearer, you know what I mean?”

By four o'clock everyone was suitably stuffed and exhausted. Alice and Charlene played with their new toys while the adults sat around the fire, half asleep. Jimmy thought about his getaway. Peggy's invitation was open-ended, but he never planned to stay. He was neither tired nor anxious to return to New York. He wanted to go home to Chillingham. He had no particular plan except to spend some time alone to re-charge. Peggy watched him as he went into the guestroom to gather his things. In a few minutes he emerged with his overnight bag. She nudged Joe and they stood, gathered the girls and accompanied him out onto the porch. The good-byes were warm and deeply felt. Peggy held her friend tight then watched him climb into his car and drive off.

It began to snow at White River Junction, growing heavier as the miles slowly passed. Jimmy didn't mind. Traffic was light on Christmas night. He exited Route 89 just north of Concord and picked up Route 93 heading south. The plows did a good job. By Manchester the storm was over and the wind picked up, ushering in colder air that drove the clouds from the sky. The night was dark, but the fresh white powder, reflecting the lights of the highway, brightened everything around. On the Everett Turnpike, leading to
Nashua, he spotted the exit he was looking for. He turned onto route 101A heading west. Amherst was seven miles down the road.

Les loved her hometown in winter. Amherst, New Hampshire was everything envisioned by Norman Rockwell when he painted a New England village. Founded in the early 1700's, and named after British General, Lord Jeffrey Amherst of the French and Indian War, the town had taken on a quaint image that carried on, seemingly untouched through the centuries. Franklin Pierce, the nation's fourteenth president, studied law and was married in a stately home just off the village green. Following World War II, wealthy professionals from Boston began to migrate north, soon making the town home for later generations. Les' father was one of these. Her childhood home was an attractive Victorian house midway along an old carriage road bordering the village green that was the very image of a beautiful country lane. At the edge of the green stood a giant blue spruce, now brightly decorated with Christmas lights. The snow had stopped. Les looked out the window and debated what to do. Her parents were preparing to retire, but she wasn't sleepy. Thoughts of Jimmy filled her with restlessness. Chillingham was only twenty miles south. Maybe he was there. She shook her head, time to take a walk.

Two hundred miles south in Connecticut, Cindy was equally restless. Miles left her at the Beacon without saying good-bye, without saying anything really. Had they not shared dinners together for months? Had they not spoken of everything from work to personal concerns? Had he not held her hand once or twice in that way that meant something special? Now, he'd run off without a word at the most joyous time of the year, that time when people come together. Where are you, Miles? What's wrong? She was angry with him.

Christmas was spent quietly with her sister and brother-in-law in New Canaan. Several times during the day she called Miles at home only to hear the same disconnect recording. She tried the office in Millburn although she could not imagine him at his desk. Maybe he was with relatives somewhere. Finally, at nine p.m. she could stand it no longer. She made her apologies, mentioning something about needing to get back to the city. She didn't go home. She could not be alone until she knew what had become of Miles. She stayed on Route 95 through the Bronx and onto the George Washington Bridge to New Jersey. By ten-thirty she was in Millburn.

Jimmy knew his quest was useless. He didn't even know where her parents lived. Neither did he know if Les would be there. Didn't she say her returns to America alternated between Christmas and Easter? He sighed. Les, I wish you were beside me here and now. He could go straight home, but what would he do then? Merely turn up the heat and think about her. That would come soon enough. For now, he was free to see the town where she grew up, so close to his own childhood home.

Miles sat in front of the television in a robe and slippers. He was on his third Jack Daniels, nearing the point of carefree inebriation he'd been seeking. He was dissatisfied with his behavior at the theater. He should have been more polite. At the very least he should have wished Cindy a Merry Christmas. She deserved better, no matter what worried him, no matter how dire his present circumstances. He lost interest in the old rerun on the screen, turned off the set and went into the tiny kitchen. Through the window he saw the lights of a car winding into the parking lot. He watched for a moment then turned back to look for something to eat in the refrigerator. Someone made a wrong turn. What to make?

The wind blew cold. The trees on either side of the carriage road swayed in the breeze with puffs of snow occasionally falling to the ground from the bent boughs, suddenly unburdened and springing back into position. Les loved the first hours after a snowstorm. The air was clean and sweet, the night sky burst with the radiance of thousands of stars. In the distance the village green came into view, marked by the towering spruce with colored lights twinkling in the wind. Despite the rustling, all was still on the ground. The snow, so fresh and white, made her happy to be home.

She kept her eyes up, taking it all in. After a few steps, she was even with the sprawling corner house opposite the green, The Gardner House, now owned by a young dentist and serving as both home and office for his growing family and practice. It was on the National Historic Register. Les wondered how such a young man could afford to buy the place. The General Store was locked tight and dark, its white façade the only thing visible. As she came near, she turned onto the path entering the green. It was snow covered, but not so deep as the unplowed street. The trees caught some of the snow before it reached the ground. The path stretched out across the expanse in the direction of the Congregational Church with its bright red door and majestic steeple. As a child she'd been inside that church many times, its unadorned white walls and pews so different from the ornate woods and statues of her own Catholic church in Milford a few miles away. She stopped in the center of the green beneath two tall leafless maples. For a moment, she merely looked and listened. It was eleven p.m. on Christmas night, an eight-inch snowstorm just concluded. The families all around were nestled in their warm homes around a fire or preparing for bed. She could smell the smoke from the chimneys. No cars sullied the pastoral beauty. No sound, but the wind. It was heaven.

Cindy parked with the lights on and the motor running as she tried to understand why one of the bungalows was occupied. There were no other cars in the lot. Maybe one of the Brits stayed behind. No, she'd talked with all of them at the party. Everyone returned to London. Jimmy went to Vermont. Sonny was in New York. Nigel left a week ago. Benson had his own place a few towns away. Who could it be? She shut the motor off.

From behind Les heard the muffled sound of a car slowly making its way toward the carriage road. She turned to watch as it idled briefly at the General Store. She stood still, wondering who could be out on the snow-covered roads. Perhaps a family was returning home after a long day at the relatives. The car began to move, edging right then making a long, eerily quiet route along the snow-covered road encircling the green. Les watched, pivoting where she stood, curious. When the car hesitated and then swung onto the carriage road she felt an odd need to follow. The driver seemed unsure, looking for something. She trudged ahead, arching her boots into the snow up to her calf, quickening her pace, eyes following the vehicle as it moved in the direction of her parents' home. As she crossed the lane in front of the Gardner House, the car came to a stop fifty yards ahead and pulled over to the side, engine idling with vapor rising into the air from its exhaust. She wondered who could be lost on Christmas Night in Amherst. Maybe it was just someone who needed directions. She came up behind the passenger side, approaching cautiously. She spotted the New York license plate half obscured by snow. The side windows of the Saab were frosted. There appeared to be only one occupant, a man behind the wheel. He didn't seem to notice her as she came alongside. Should she tap on the window? Her heart beat fast, too fast for the circumstance. Why, she
wondered, as she debated what to do. She moved closer. New York plates? Who? Her heart raced, wanting it to be him.

Cindy's tap on the door startled Miles. He was mildly embarrassed to be in his robe and slippers as he pulled the curtains ajar to look outside. The car was still there, but the lights were off. He couldn't see inside. He had a feeling though. He let the curtain spring back into place, retied the knot of his robe and went to the door. He waited for another tap before opening. It came firmer this time. As he pulled the door wide the sight of Cindy made him shiver. Her eyes were dark, almost sad. They stared at one another.

“Miles?” she asked, like she needed him to answer. He reached for her arm and pulled her gently inside, using the time to gather his thoughts, his defenses. He helped her off with her coat and placed it on a chair.

“I saw the lights.” He looked down at his feet. She'd found him. He looked stupid, he felt unworthy.

Cindy studied the room, ignoring him as she made note of the suitcases in the corner. She crossed the room and fingered his tumbler half filled with Jack Daniels. “I see you're having a jolly time.” He didn't answer, ashamed as he followed her into the kitchen. She glanced at the half prepared sandwich. “Excellent Christmas dinner, too.”

“Just a snack,” he finally managed.

She leaned back on the counter and faced him. “What's going on?”

“Cindy…”

“What's wrong, Miles?”

“Nothing.”

“I called your house. The phone's disconnected. Where's your car?”

Miles shrugged. “It's a temporary arrangement. Until things straighten out.”

She processed his answer. “Is this why you've become so distant?”

“No.” Miles shook his head, heart sinking.

Cindy wavered between concern for Miles and fear of more rejection. She could not rationalize the two. In her confusion she was losing her grip. Not even Jimmy made her so distraught inside. She wanted to leave quickly before tears rose up and ruined her last remnants of dignity. She hurried back to the other room and grabbed her coat. But before she could reach the door, Miles had her by the arm. He turned her to him only to be met with a gush of tears that instantly broke his heart.

“Please don't,” he pleaded. “I'm glad you're here.” He pulled her close, no longer able to fight the need that clamored for outlet.

Jimmy watched through the rearview mirror as a figure approached. He suddenly realized that his unfamiliar car, bearing out of state plates, might seem odd. The last thing he wanted was to spook the neighborhood, but a familiar silhouette held him, hope.

Les gathered her courage and tapped on the window. It rolled down automatically, but she couldn't make out the face of the man inside. Abruptly, the driver's side door flew open and the man jumped out. He turned to face her across the top of the car.

“Les?”

Miles could not help himself. As their bodies merged he squeezed tighter, unable to hold back his longing. Gone was the hopelessness that kept him from believing she could accept his desire, but only in that fervent embrace. He knew once he let go all would return to the frustrated inhibition that blocked him from action. He stroked her hair, running his other hand along her back, not seeking passion, but in a soothing attempt
to calm her and to protect himself from the guilt her tears evoked in his heart. It could never be. He was too old and she was too beautiful. Yet, in this one embrace his anguish at the prospect of never having her did not matter. He simply could not bear to see her cry.

As recognition instantly registered, Jimmy and Les raced around the car and came into each other's arms. He brushed his lips along her cheek, squeezing her body so tight that he was afraid he might be crushing the breath from her lungs. He couldn't stop himself. But she clung even tighter, pressing her face to his shoulder with no hint of letting go. “I wanted it to be you!” she said, excitedly. “I saw you at the Beacon!”

“You mustn't let me make you cry.” Miles dabbed at the tears on her cheeks with his fingers. I'll tell you everything.” Cindy raised her arms around his shoulders and pressed her face to his chest.

“Miles, I don't understand. Is it something I've done?” He held her shoulders and gently pushed her back so he could look into her eyes.

“No, it could never be you. You only make me happy.” He decided to end the embrace before he made a fool of himself. He would tell her. He had to tell someone. The burden of his decision was too great. Blossom Records was on the brink. In a flash of ego he'd risked everything. Now, he didn't know if he could pull it off. He could lose the biggest gamble of his life. Everyone who trusted him could lose as well.