An Island Christmas Read Free Page B

Lawrence. Felicia and Archie will have her old bedroom. Pat Galloway could have the guest room but she prefers staying in a hotel. I’ve put on Christmas sheets and quilts anyway.”
    “I noticed,” George told his wife. “Looks great. And I’m sure that now that the kids are older, nothing will get broken.”
    Jilly was quiet as she helped George finish making the bed. She plumped up the pillows in their Christmas shams and smoothed out a few tiny wrinkles on the duvet.
    “We don’t have any little-boy toys in the house, but I bought a few “Meg Mackintosh” mystery books I think Lawrence will like and I’ve put them on the bedside table. As for Portia, I left Lauren’s old doll carriage and baby doll in the room for her to play with.”
    Suddenly Jilly collapsed on the bed, dropped her face into her hands, and began to cry.
    Alarmed, George sat down, put his arm around his wife, and asked, “Hey, honey, what’s wrong?”
    “Oh, George,” cried Jilly, “when I got out the baby carriage, it made me remember when Lauren’s children were babies and slept in our daughters’ crib. There it was, up in the attic, all folded up, with a mattress wrapped in plastic, and the soft baby sheets and blankets and bumpers tucked away in a plastic box. And we’ll never use any of it again.”
    “How can you say that?” George asked. “Felicia’s getting married. I’m sure she’ll have kids someday.”
    “Yes, and she’ll probably give birth in a yurt in the Gobi Desert, attended by two Mongolians and a goat.”
    George threw back his head and laughed, hugging Jilly to him. “You have quite an imagination.”
    “I don’t need an imagination when I have a daughter like Felicia,” Jilly said glumly.
    “You really have been working too hard,” George said soothingly. “You’re upset over nothing. Listen, it’s Strollweekend. What are we doing sitting inside? Let’s go for a walk and then I’ll take you out to lunch.”
    “George, what a great idea.” Jilly wiped tears from her eyes and stood up. “I’ll change clothes and put on some lipstick.”
    In a flash, Jilly’s mood brightened. The Nantucket Christmas Stroll took place the first weekend after Thanksgiving weekend. This annual occasion became more exciting every year, as islanders and tourists alike entered into a shimmering bubble of holiday magic with the sweet salt air glittering like fairy dust over their heads. The town blocked the use of cars on Main Street so that the hundreds of strollers could amble along, pausing to listen to the Victorian carolers in cloaks and bonnets singing to the crowds, or to watch Santa and Mrs. Claus arrive on the Coast Guard boat down at Straight Wharf.
    The stores were filled with luxurious and delectable gifts, their windows decorated with artistic flair. Mermaids and snowmen, reindeer and ice skaters, gingerbread sailboats and candy canes twinkled behind the glass. The town crier strode through the town, welcoming people and announcing the beginnings of pageants, fairs, and readings.
    The crowds themselves decorated the streets; it had become a custom to dress with dash for the Stroll. Women wore red velvet cloaks and wide picture hats with feathers or faux fur coats and earmuffs. Some men and women wore hats with reindeer antlers, or red and white Santa hats, orgreen elf caps with golden bells jingling from the pointed tip.
    Jilly put on warm wool slacks and her green cashmere sweater, topped with her green wool coat. She added her special Christmas earrings, one red, one green, which flashed on and off, because she’d remembered to put the new batteries in. She added a bright crimson slash of lipstick and smiled at herself in the mirror. She felt better already.
    Hurrying down the stairs, she caught up her purse and her leather gloves.
    George was waiting in the front hall, looking quite handsome in his black wool dress coat, even though the buttons strained over his belly; he’d worn this coat for years.