Christmas at Whisper Beach Page 3

  “You,” said Mom Enthorpe, “are doing the dishes.”

  Joe Sr. winked at Van. “Gotta be fast to get past that one.”

  Joe Jr. tossed him a dish towel.

  Mom Enthorpe slowed down as she passed Van. “I believe the boys left you a surprise.”

  Van frowned. “That sounds ominous.”

  “They’re very proud of it. But it might not be up to your standards.”

  “I’m sure it will be great,” Van said, hoping they hadn’t done something god-awful like paint the old stone walls or sand down the authentic wood moldings or . . . she couldn’t even begin to imagine.

  Mom Enthorpe gave her an impulsive hug. “I know you’ll love it.”

  “Me, too.” And Van hurried out of the room.

  She shrugged into her jacket and went out into the crisp night air. It was dark, with a few stars in the sky peeking out of the accumulating clouds and Van wondered if they would wake up to snow tomorrow. Already the ground was beginning to crunch beneath her shoes, her breath made little clouds in the air.

  It was peaceful, solitary. Normally Van liked peaceful and solitary, but these days she’d rather enjoy her peace and quiet with Joe. She reached the gift shop, looked around. Nothing out here. She unlatched the door and went inside.

  It was dark with only a hint of the heat Joe must have turned down earlier. She sniffed. Sniffed again. Was that the faint hint of pine? Not the odor of the cleaning products on the shelves at Elite Managers, but straight from nature.

  She turned on the light. And stared in awe.

  In the far corner of the room was a tree. With a capital T. A monster tree that took up the whole corner where she’d planned to put the buffet table.

  And so tall that the top was bent into a right angle against the ceiling.

  Van bit her lip. One side of a smile slipped out from between her teeth. Then the other. Then she laughed. It was the largest, most inappropriate, whacked-out Christmas tree she had ever seen.

  Now if she could just figure out what the hell to do with it. The buffet table could go on the opposite wall if she moved the . . . and the . . .

  She stepped closer and realized that they had already started decorating it. She searched from the end of a string of lights and plugged it in.

  The tree lit up. Whacked-out was right. It was so obviously decorated with love, if not spatial accuracy, that she laughed out loud. A joyful, happy mess of celebration, and she wouldn’t do a thing to change it.

  She’d been happy all those years before, the last time she’d spent a Christmas with the Enthorpes. When she and Joe had thought they were meant to be. Before the end of high school—before she ruined both their lives. And now she was back on the cusp of happiness. A tenuous, fragile happiness.

  And with that happiness came the all-too-familiar fear that it wouldn’t last, and she prayed that she wouldn’t do anything to ruin it again.

  She turned out the lights and returned to the house. There was no message from Joe, but while she’d been gone, the two senior Joes had finished the dishes, brought down the decoration boxes from the attic and were sitting in front of the television, watching the evening news.

  Mom was sitting on the couch, looking through her recipe file, pulling out cards and reading them before either returning them to the box or putting them aside for the cookie-making day, which Van remembered was tomorrow.

  The whole room smelled of freshly cut tree, which stood in front of the picture window. The bell choir poinsettias had arrived the day before and two sat on either side of the hearth. Wrapped packages had begun to collect in one corner.

  She stood, suddenly hesitant in the doorway.

  “Come sit.” Mom patted the place beside her. “Do you like peppermint?” She showed Van a card with a picture of red-and-white cookies. “I usually make these pinwheel cookies with vanilla and chocolate, but I’m thinking about trying something different.”

  “Make your cherry brownies,” Granddad called from his recliner, the only piece of furniture that had survived Mrs. Enthorpe’s recent redecoration.

  “I don’t know how he can hear us with the television blaring like that,” Mom Enthorpe said. “Not to worry, I’ll make plenty of those, too.”

  “Peppermint sounds good. So does chocolate.” Van shrugged apologetically. “I haven’t made too many cookies since I moved to Manhattan.” Cookie baking had been the last thing on her mind as she struggled to survive and then thrive as her business took off.

  “Maybe we’ll do both,” Mom said.

  “And some of those wedding cookies,” Granddad said, emphasizing wedding.

  Van flinched.

  “You mean snowdrops?” Mom riffled through her recipe box, pulled out a card. “They’re a staple of the holidays. I always make them and I always find powdered sugar in corners for weeks after the New Year.” She sighed. “I wonder what is keeping Joe? I hope things aren’t too dire. What a terrible time to be sick.”

  “Want me to call him?” Joe Jr. asked.

  “No. He’ll call when he knows something. Or he’ll just come home.”

  Joe Jr. turned off the television and they all sat in silence for a while.

  “I’m so glad you’re here, Van,” Mom said. “With everyone spread to the winds, I was beginning to think it was going to be just me and the three Joes for the holidays.”

  “Don’t forget Duffy,” Granddad said.

  Hearing his name, the old hound dog, who was sleeping by the fireplace, raised his head, yawned then went back to sleep.

  “What’s wrong with the three Joes?” her husband asked as he came over to start looking through the recipes. “None of those date things, this year. They get stuck in everybody’s teeth.”

  “Yes, dear.” Mom gave her husband an angelic smile.

  Van knew without a doubt she’d be making those date things, whatever they were. Alice Enthorpe was calm and compassionate and only raised her voice to be heard over the din of the other Enthorpes, never in anger. Yet she ruled her household without question.

  “Maybe we should start stringing the lights while we’re waiting for Joe. Come on, Dad, make yourself useful.”

  “No rest for the wicked,” said Joe Sr. and pushed himself out of his recliner.

  “Hey, Van, what did you think of the tree out in the creamery?”

  “Gorgeous,” Van said.

  “Thought you’d get a kick out of it,” Granddad said. He chuckled. “Joe said Owen had picked out an even bigger one.” He laughed out loud. “Lordy, we were afraid we wouldn’t be able to get it through the door. Any bigger and we’d have to build around it.”

  He reached into one of the cartons and pulled out a box of lights.

  Mom glanced up. “You’re sure you don’t want to wait for Joe?”

  Her husband wagged his finger at her. “Is this going to be one of those jokes about how many Joes it takes to put up a string of lights?”

  “No, just how many it takes to fall off the ladder.”

  “I haven’t fallen off a ladder since 2005,” he quipped back.

  “She hasn’t let you go up a ladder since then,” said his father.

  They all laughed and Van stood. “I’ll go up the ladder.”

  Joe Sr. elbowed his son. “Works every time. Here you go, Van. Put this end at the very tip-top so we can plug in the star.”

  She took the cord, Joe Jr. got out the ladder and Van carried the cord to the top. By the time they were finished, Van had strung six strands of colored lights, and the two Joes were wearing felt Christmas hats and were draped in pieces of last year’s tinsel.

  They were standing back admiring their handiwork when they heard Joe’s truck pull into the drive.

  “Joe’s home,” Joe Sr. said.

  “Perfect timing, that boy,” said Joe Jr.

  A few minutes later, the door opened and Joe walked in. “Look who I brought home.”

  He stepped to the side to reveal Owen, a stuffed backpack hung over
one shoulder. And two young girls. They both had long, lanky blond hair about the same color as Owen’s and were wearing inexpensive puff jackets that couldn’t possibly keep out the winter cold.

  “This is Haley,” Joe said, indicating the taller one. “And Kayla.”

  “I’m four,” Kayla said.

  Haley didn’t say anything.

  “They’re going to stay with us for a day or two.”

  Mom Enthorpe jumped from her couch and went to greet them, arms outstretched and smiling, though Van didn’t miss the look of question that she shot her son.

  Joe Sr. and Joe Jr. stood where they were like a couple of Christmas elves.

  The girls stared at them. Owen bit his lip.

  “Okay, guys, this is my mom and my dad and my granddad. We’re all named Joe. Except for my mom—she’s called Mom.” Joe grinned at his family.

  The two Joes nodded, setting off the bells on the points of their hats.

  Van smiled, Owen snorted, but the girls just stared.

  “Well, come on in and let’s get you settled,” Mom said. “Are you hungry? Have you had dinner? Joe, help bring the girls’ cases back to Maddy’s room. I’ve put Owen in Drew’s room.” She took charge of the girls, one on each side, and chattered at them as they disappeared into the hallway.

  “I’ll get Owen settled. We’re all starving.” Joe and Owen went off down the hall.

  “Well, come on, Dad,” said Joe Jr. “I guess we better unpack the food we just packed up.”

  Van watched everyone leave.

  They all knew what to do. She didn’t. She could organize and streamline the lives of total strangers. But she couldn’t seem to get a handle on her own. Would she ever get this family thing figured out?

  Chapter 4

  “I didn’t think you would mind,” Joe told his mom as she handed him towels and washcloths.

  “Of course not.”

  “The neighbor offered to keep the girls but she didn’t have room for Owen and he didn’t want to leave them there alone. Frankly, I didn’t either. So I just packed them all up and brought them all here. I should have called first.”

  “You had your hands full. How is their mother?”

  Joe shrugged, looked down the hall and lowered his voice. “They’re keeping her for tests. I don’t think it looks good. The neighbor said she’s been pretty sick. A really bad cough. Pneumonia maybe? Hopefully nothing worse.”

  His mother nodded. “Pneumonia can be bad enough. You did the right thing.”

  “I feel bad about Van.”

  “Van? Why on earth?”

  “This is all so new for her. It was hard enough to talk her into living out here with us. It’s her first Christmas in a long time. Probably since we were in high school. I wanted to make it special for her.”

  “It will be special. Have you ever known a Christmas not to be?”

  “I guess not.”

  “Now no more worrying. One thing at a time.”

  He followed her back to the bedrooms, dropped off towels and toothbrushes, showed the kids the bathroom and then led them back to the kitchen.

  He was glad to see Van, his dad and his granddad already had places set and food on the table. The microwave beeped as they came into the kitchen. Owen went right to his usual place. Motioned for his sisters to sit down, which they were reluctant to do until his mother pulled out a chair for the older one, Haley, who sat down. Kayla climbed up to the seat next to her sister.

  “We may need the dictionary,” his mother said.

  His father went to get the unabridged volume that had served as a booster seat since Joe could remember.

  As soon as the kids were served, Joe excused himself and pulled Van back into the living room.

  “Go eat before it gets cold again,” she said.

  He loved her so much he was stupid with it. He’d always loved her. Known from the first they were meant to be together. And if he hadn’t been so clueless and stubborn, they would have been together all these years.

  Those might have been their children sitting around the kitchen table instead of displaced kids whose mother could barely feed them and was now too sick to work.

  But he had been clueless and stubborn and he was determined not to make the same mistakes now that Van had returned. He’d wanted this quiet night of tree decorating. A perfect way to ease Van back into the notion of being here permanently.

  Not here, in his parents’ house, but nearby on Enthorpe property. Joe had his eye on his grandparents’ old farmhouse, closed-up since Granddad had come to live with them. It needed a lot of work, but it would be perfect—eventually.

  “Joe? Are you all right?”

  Joe started. “Yes, I just wanted to see you.” He pulled her close and held on.

  “Is it bad?” she whispered.

  “The doctors don’t know.”

  “Those poor kids.”

  “You don’t mind that I brought them back with me?”

  “Mind, why should I?”

  “Just that I thought we’d have this quiet evening at home decorating and just hanging out, then all this. I’m sorry.”

  Van pulled away and stared at him. “You think I’m that selfish?”

  “What? No. I just didn’t want to disappoint you.”

  She sighed, shook her head. “I’m not disappointed. You should do what you want. It’s your house.”

  That little sliver of ice in her voice stabbed Joe’s heart. It’s yours, too, he wanted to say. But it wasn’t. It wasn’t their house. It had taken all his and his family’s persuasion to get her to move in with them instead of staying in town with Dorie Lister like she had planned.

  His dad and granddad had fixed up the back wing as a suite so they’d have some privacy. One bedroom and a sitting room.

  Van had been surprised that the family hadn’t questioned their sleeping arrangements. Which was ridiculous. In their eyes, Van was already a member of the family. Now if he could just convince Van.

  He scooped her back into his arms and kissed her. At first she was a little stiff. But not for long. He kissed her until she kissed him back; kissed her until she finally pulled away, laughing.

  “Okay, I get it. I overreacted. Sorry. Long day.”

  He reached for her again, but she slapped him away. “Go get some food before Owen eats it all.”

  She took his arm and they went back into the kitchen. His granddad rolled his eyes when they squeezed through the door together.

  “I was just saying to Haley and Kayla,” his mother said, “that I didn’t know if there would be visiting hours tomorrow at the hospital, but that it was Christmas cookie-baking day and we’d make some especially for her that you could take by later.”

  “Sure,” Joe said. He sat at the place setting next to her and pulled a chair closer for Van. She passed him a platter of pork chops. “Glad you left me some,” Joe said. “Van was afraid Owen might eat them all before I got back.”

  Owen smiled back at him, not his regular grin, but a good facsimile. Joe was proud of the boy. After his initial panic, he’d stayed calm and let Joe deal with the hospital.

  There had been a minor skirmish when Owen had insisted on staying at his own house with his sisters. He didn’t want them to stay with the neighbor. “She smokes all day and all night. It’s bad for them to be over there.”

  Joe agreed. So he had invited them all to come home with him.

  He looked over the table, every place taken for the first time since the last holiday. This was the way it should be. Family.

  “Dope tree by the way,” Van said to Owen.

  This time Owen’s grin was real.

  By the time they finished dinner, they decided it was too late to finish decorating the tree and to postpone it until tomorrow. Mom took the girls off to get ready for bed.

  Van considered asking if she needed help, but that would have been ridiculous. Mom had raised six children. She didn’t need anybody’s help, let alone Van’s. So she started
clearing the plates instead.

  Taking that as a cue that everyone else was free, Owen and the three Joes wandered out to see what was on television.

  The Great Escape. Van didn’t mind. When she’d first come to live with Joe she’d been petrified that she might break a plate or a favorite dish. Which was absurd. She organized entire households, rearranged china closets, handled the finest crystal. She filed important documents, planned anniversary parties, screened nannies and made home-decorating decisions.

  People called on her for every minutia of their daily life while they concentrated on business or volunteering or whatever they did that kept them too busy to take care of the basics. She was in demand.

  And now she was elbow deep in sudsy water, washing pots and pans on a New Jersey farm. And it felt good. She still sometimes had to stop herself from rearranging the craziness of the Enthorpe cupboards or changing the traffic flow of the enclosed porch. She was learning to love the erratic nature of life with the Enthorpes; it was busy, messy, spontaneous, but it was full of life and love.

  Van snorted. If her friends could see her now. But they could. Her friends were here. When she’d arrived in Whisper Beach a few short months ago, she was on her way to a posh vacation in Rehoboth. She hadn’t meant to stay, hadn’t wanted to say. Her past held some pretty unpleasant memories, but also some good. And the good won out.

  Now she was commuting between Manhattan and Whisper Beach while she set up her second location. And then?

  Really, was that a question? Why set up a location in Whisper Beach if you weren’t planning to stay?

  The house was quiet and Van couldn’t sleep. Maybe it was the prospect of opening two new businesses. Maybe it was the excitement of Christmas. The addition of three children to their midst. Her growing love for Joe and the equally growing indecision of whether she should could commit to life with him when she knew they might not work out. Despite what Suze said, she knew she could never divorce Joe, no more than she could turn her back on his family. Was she being selfish?

  Just watching him tonight with Owen and his sisters made her realize how ill-equipped she was for being in this family. She didn’t know how to do family, how to do kids, and she’d never know because she couldn’t have them. And she knew Joe wanted children more than anything.