‘Yes, he is very good at it … ’ Karen trailed off, and picked up the crossword she was working on over coffee that morning but hadn't finished. She was sorry now she’d made Greg’s so-called ‘exhibition’ out to be something more than it was at the time. It was, after all, one photograph. Just one.
‘So what's the problem?’ Amy persevered.
‘No problem.’ Karen picked up a pencil and began filling in the remaining clues.
‘Why do you do these anyway?’
‘Because it keeps my brain active … ’ she replied flippantly, but the truth was she had always felt somewhat inferior to the people in her and Greg’s – well, mostly his parents’ – circle. The society types with their rich and privileged silver spoon backgrounds. Karen had always felt a burning desire to be part of that world, to be known as smart as well as beautiful, and perfectly put-together at all times, no matter what. And she’d been succeeding too.
But now Greg's out-of-the-blue career change was moving the goalposts. Everything she’d been working towards seemed to have taken a big step backwards since he’d told her.
Now, she thought irritably, she would have to introduce him as an out-of-work artist type rather than the successful broker he once was – a second-generation Upper East Side moneymaker. Having finished the crossword, she slipped it into her bag and checked the time. ‘So are we ready for this presentation or what?’
‘OK, OK, I’m going!’ Amy grinned and gave Karen a sideways glance. ‘And correct me if I’m wrong, but I thought it was the artist who was supposed to be temperamental, not the girlfriend?’
22
Holly made the short walk from Danny’s school towards the store, passing the Christmas shoppers and people lugging fir trees through the streets. Fairy lights were everywhere and people were rushing about trying to get Christmas preparations done. It made her think about her own family festivities when she was a child, when her Dad would finally close the hardware store the night before Christmas.
She had always complained that he should close early like the other shops did on the street, but he would remind her that a hardware store was sometimes the saving grace for someone’s Christmas. Last-minute gifts for a husband or father, light bulbs, fuses, electrical tape: these were the things that held Christmas together, and who was he to deny the public of that.
And he had been right, of course; there were always the late stragglers arriving in a panic because their fairy lights wouldn’t work or they had forgotten to buy a tree stand, or because Uncle Charlie was coming to visit and he’d always talked about wanting a cordless drill.
Finally, around six p.m. on Christmas Eve, Seamus would shut the lights off at the hardware store and walk the few blocks home, where Holly and Eileen would be waiting eagerly for him. The turkey would be resting on top of the stove, flipped over plates covering all the side dishes to keep them warm. Her mother would have a Bing Crosby or Johnny Mathis record on the turntable. All the lights would be dimmed or off, so that their own Christmas tree with its multicoloured lights would cast a warm glow around the small room. They had no fireplace in their house; that had been walled up years ago, like most of the fireplaces in the brownstones on their street. So they would compensate with a trio of candles on a make-do mantelpiece in the dining room. After her dad had gone upstairs to get changed, he would come down in a fresh shirt and tie to carve the turkey. And, even though it was only the three of them, they still all dressed up, and her mother polished the silver and broke out the best china. After dinner, Holly would be sent to bed, under the threat that Santa might not come if she was up too late. She would hang her stocking with a thumbtack on the only bookshelf in the living room and go up to bed, stopping on each step to plead with her parents to stay up just a bit longer – but the pleading glances never worked.
Then Holly's mom and dad would sit on the tiny sofa, open a bottle of wine and turn Johnny Mathis up a little louder. Holly could hear them from her bedroom, talking and laughing, her father's low rumbling voice giving Eileen a rundown of his day.
Finally Holly would drift off to sleep – then, as soon as the first slice of sunlight hit her bedroom, she would bound downstairs to see what Santa had put in her stocking. There would always be candy and foil-wrapped chocolate, usually a sample bottle of perfume, fancy socks with lace around the ankles, and – at the bottom of the stocking – a big fat orange. At this point, her mom and dad would be sitting on the couch, bleary-eyed, holding cups of coffee, and Bing would be back on the turntable. Finally her mother would let them all eat a hard-boiled egg to tide them through Mass and the three of them would make their way on the snowy, empty streets to the local church, where they would sit through a Christmas Day Mass that was twice as long as a regular Mass, and Holly’s stomach would groan and gurgle with the thoughts of chocolate and candy back home. Sometimes her father would slip her a peppermint, putting a finger to his lips not to tell Eileen, and Holly would gratefully pop it in her mouth and quietly suck it through the sermon.
After Seamus died, they had stopped going to church altogether. Holly had come downstairs one Sunday morning, dressed and ready to go, only to find her mother still in her dressing gown at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of coffee.
‘I just don't feel like going today, do you?’ she had simply said.
At the time Holly had seen it as just another memory of her father that her mother was destroying, another source of comfort her mother had removed. Christmas in the O’Neill household had been different after that.
And Christmas this year would be completely different again. Because, for the first time ever, Holly and Danny would not be going to Eileen’s house in Queens.
Instead her mother was coming to them.
She still wasn’t entirely sure why she’d suggested to Danny about doing Christmas dinner at their teeny apartment. But when Kate had mentioned that she wouldn’t be going home to Minnesota this year, and was complaining of being at a loose end, Holly had decided for sure that she was going to host a big, old-style Christmas at her house, the kind she’d always wanted. It obviously had something to do with what she’d been feeling lately, about wanting to give Danny something other than just the basics. She wanted to create traditions and memories like her father had done for her.
Eileen had been surprised at first when Holly made the suggestion over the phone the night before.
‘Are you sure? You know I’m always happy to have you and Danny.’
‘I know, but this year I thought that maybe we could do something different. Danny would love it, and Kate would be here too.’
There was a brief silence on the phone. ‘Anyone else?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, I suppose I was just wondering if you’d met anyone, anyone interesting?’
Holly groaned. ‘Mom, you of all people should know that’s the last thing on my mind.’
‘Still … ’
‘Still nothing.’
