felt tense. It was even less likely her father would be able to come with his health deteriorating.
“We can ask,” Emily told her, and the conversation died down to silence.
They reached the inn and Daniel parked up. Stu, Clyde and Evan were home, so they came out to help carry the tree inside. Then, together, the four men heaved it up into its position in the foyer.
“That’s one big tree,” Clyde said, whistling. He wiped the perspiration from his forehead and looked down at Chantelle. “How are you going to get the angel on the top? Even on my shoulders I don’t think you’ll make it.”
To iterate his point, he swept a giggling Chantelle up into his strong arms and plonked her on his shoulders. He began parading her around. Emily noticed Patricia wincing. Probably worrying about the hard wooden floor beneath them, a mother’s instinct that even Patricia possessed!
“I’ll go get the ladder,” Stu said, heading off in the direction of the garage.
Evan and Clyde helped, too, by carrying all the boxes of decorations out of the garage. Then the three men headed off into town to watch the game and have a drink after their long day working on the island, leaving just the family to decorate.
“We need to put on Christmas music,” Emily said, heading over to the reception desk where the sound system was set up. She found an old Christmas Crooners CD and put it on. Frank Sinatra’s voice filled the hall.
“And,” Daniel added. “We need to have hot chocolates!”
Chantelle nodded enthusiastically, and they all hurried into the kitchen. Daniel boiled milk on the stove, while Chantelle searched the pantry for leftover marshmallows. She returned with not only marshmallows, but also rainbow sprinkles and whipped cream.
“Excellent,” Daniel said, as he poured them each a mug of hot chocolate, then topped them with cream, marshmallows and sprinkles.
Emily had never seen Patricia consume anything like that in her life! The smores had been a sight enough to behold, but this was a whole other thing. It was like Patricia had been transformed by the spirit of Christmas, at last, after sixty-odd years of resistance!
They headed back into the hall, where the giant Christmas tree stood waiting to be decorated, and got to work. Of course, Chantelle took the lead.
“We need lights over here, Daddy,” she said to Daniel, pointing at a bare patch. “And Nana Patty, those reindeer need to be on this branch.”
Emily leaned in to her mom and said, “Chantelle has a very specific vision.”
Patricia laughed. “Yes, I can tell. She has an eye for detail. She’ll make a wonderful interior designer one day.”
Emily could certainly picture it. Either that, or some kind of events organizer. She touched her bump, wondering what kind of personality Baby Charlotte would have, whether she’d be similar to her sister – a leader, organizer, socializer, performer – or whether she’d have a different way about her. Perhaps she’d take after Emily herself, and be less inclined towards the limelight, more content to read a book and take the dogs on quiet, countryside walks. Or perhaps she’d be like her father, practical and hardworking, prone to moments of broodiness. Or, as Emily tended to think, she might take after the aunt for which she was named; sweet, imaginative, inquisitive, calm. She couldn’t wait to find out.
“Nana Patty,” Chantelle said then, breaking through Emily’s reverie. “What was mommy like when she was my age?”
Patricia was busy stretching a large piece of sparkly tinsel across the branches, weaving it through them so it wouldn’t fall.
“At eight-years-old? Well let me think. Her hair was very curly then, much more than it is now. She used to wear these beautiful plaid dresses. Do you remember darling?”
Emily cast her mind back in time. The plaid dress and itchy tights combo her mom always dressed her up in had been a source of numerous fights. Emily had hated the way she wasn’t allowed to run or climb trees because Patricia didn’t want her to mess up her clothes.
“I remember,” she replied.
Patricia continued. “Her father was teaching her piano then as well. She was quite good at it but lost interest.”
Emily wished now that she hadn’t. That she’d continued to sit beside her dad on that battered piano stool, learning songs from musicals and old classics. Those were precious times and she hadn’t made the most of them. She hadn’t known that she needed to.
“Papa Roy?” Chantelle asked.
“Yes,” Patricia said. She smiled. “He was very gifted at the piano. And he loved it. That’s why he had to have one in this house, even though we were only here a few weeks a year. But he’d light the fire and play us the piano, and Emily would wrap herself up in a blanket and fall asleep.” She let out a melancholy sigh. “There were always wonderful moments in between, weren’t there, sweetheart?”
Emily knew what she meant. In between the pain of losing Charlotte. That after her death, when the silence grew between her parents like an invisible wall of glass, there were some moments of normalcy, of joy, even, when the quietness was filled with beauty and their minds were given a reprieve from grief.
“I love Papa Roy,” Chantelle told Patricia. “Was he a very good husband?”
Patricia looked back at Chantelle. And to Emily’s shock and surprise, she reached out and stroked the girl’s head.
“He was. Not always. But no one is perfect.”
“Did you love him?”
“With all my heart.”
“What about now?” Chantelle asked.
“Hush,” Emily interrupted. “That’s a personal question.”
“I don’t mind,” Patricia said. She looked Chantelle squarely then, and spoke in an undeterred voice. “We spent many years as husband and wife, many good years. But we weren’t happy and the most important thing in life is to be happy. It was very hard to say goodbye to him, but in the end it was for the best. And yes, I still love him now. Once you love someone you can never really stop.”
Emily turned away then, wiping the tear that had formed in the corner of her eye. During her entire lifetime, Patricia had only ever bad-mouthed her father. Never once had she heard her admit that she still loved Roy.
Silence fell then, and the family quietly put the last decorations on the tree. The melancholy air that hovered around them dissipated only when Daniel took the angel statue out of the box.
“It’s time,” he said, handing it to Chantelle.
With an excited smile on her face, Chantelle climbed the ladder, stretched her arm as long as she could, and placed the angel on the top branch of the tree.
“Ta da!” she cried.
Daniel helped her back down the ladder and everyone stepped back to admire their handywork. Emily felt overcome with emotion as it occurred to her that this was the first tree she had decorated alongside her mom for close to twenty years. Patricia had withdrawn from the ritual shortly after Charlotte’s death. But now, with a new family around her, and a new child growing inside Emily, she had
