“Oh, sure. Well—”
“Talk to you later, Natalie,” he said, and hung up.
I had chosen this. I had made this decision. I couldn’t be the woman he needed. He needed a muffin maker, a clothes washer, an all-in kind of girl who would be willing to give up a part of herself to be there for him. I could not, would not, do that.
Willing myself not to cry, I flicked on the fan in the corner, drying my eyeballs until I could go back to work.
I talked to Oscar two more times that week, twice the week after that, and then it was an entire week before I spoke to him again. Not once did he mention trying to get together.
When I talked to Roxie one night, she told me he was crankier than ever, barely speaking when he was in town.
That’s how it goes, I suppose.
I worked back into my routine; well, part of my routine. I didn’t go out nearly as much, but that was okay. I couldn’t conceive of meeting anyone new. Flirting with a guy seemed unappealing at best, gross at worst, and the last thing I wanted was to pick up a random guy. I worked a lot. I talked to Roxie, I talked to Clara, and I spent more and more of the weekend at my parents’, needing some familiarity while I worked myself over.
Did I make the right decision? Could I have considered, just considered, the idea of trying to make things work with Oscar?
“You sure as hell could have tried,” a voice said, and I blinked, confused.
“Huh?” I turned around on my perch in the window to see my mother standing there, holding a teacup.
“Should you have considered the idea of making things work with Oscar? Yes. The answer to that is yes.” She shook her head at me, handing me the cup. “Drink this. It’s green tea, you need the antioxidants.”
“Sorry, I didn’t know I—”
“Said it out loud? You did; you’ve always said things out loud when you’re working yourself over.”
“I do?” I’d never heard this before.
“Sure; your father’s the same way. When he’s in a pickle, he poses questions to the wall sometimes, trying to work his head around a problem. Me, I just throw some paint at a canvas and work it out that way.”
I sipped at the tea. It was December, and I was spending a Saturday night at my parents’, watching the first snow fall outside on Perry Street.
Saturday night with my parents. How the mighty have fallen.
“He wanted me to think about moving.”
“I figured.”
“To Bailey Falls.”
“I figured.”
“To the country, Ma.”
“I know where Bailey Falls is. The question is, do you want to go?”
“And sacrifice my career and life for a man? You always told me that was the worst thing a woman could do.”
“Wrong.”
I exploded from my chair. “What? Are you trying to make me crazy?”
“I think you’re halfway there already, dear daughter. Now drink your tea and listen to me.”
I sat.
“I always told you that the worst thing a woman could do was sacrifice her career for a man—”
“Exactly.”
“—but I don’t think you’d have to sacrifice your career to have this man.”
“He’s got cows.”
“Sure, and they’re just ninety minutes from where you’re sitting right now. You don’t think you can make it work when you’re only ninety minutes from the man you love?”
“The man I love, I—” I sputtered.
She laid a hand on my knee, patting gently. “Now listen up good, Natalie. You’ve been in love once in your life.”
“And we know how that ended.”
She shook her head. “You were never really in love with Thomas. You thought you loved him, because back then you thought you were unlovable. And a good-looking man came along, saw a possible weakness, and he preyed on that and on you. I don’t blame you for thinking you were in love with him, but I’m here to tell you that it wasn’t love. What you feel for Oscar is the real thing.”
“But I can’t give up my job! I love my job!”
“And you’re great at it. You know that, and the people at MCG know it, too. You don’t think they’d work with you if you wanted to work from a home office a few days a week? And maybe Oscar could spend some time in the city every now and again?”
My heart started racing. I could see the possibilities, the maybes. “But wouldn’t I be sacrificing too much for someone else?”
“Do you love him?”
Oh sweet Christ on a cracker, I think I really do.
Now I just had to find out if he still loved me.
Chapter 21
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas . . .
No shit.
Everywhere you go . . .
Nothing wrong with your eyeballs.
Take a look in the five-and-ten . . .
Done.
Glistening once again . . .
You’re darn tootin’.
With candy canes and silver lanes aglow.
There were, in fact, candy canes at the five-and-ten. And though I didn’t see any silver lanes aglow, I did see an oddly compelling display of silvery chain saws hanging in the window of the hardware store.
Ever seen It’s a Wonderful Life? Remember the part when George Bailey runs screaming down Main Street, tossing out Merry Christmases to everything that would stand still?
Main Street in Bailey Falls during the Christmas season looks just like it. Maybe Frank Capra had this little town in mind when he created Bedford Falls . . .
Though my heart will always skip a beat when I see the holiday windows at Bloomingdale’s, the tree at Rockefeller Center, and the wreaths in every window at Bergdorf’s . . .
There is nothing prettier than this damn Hudson Valley town at Christmas. There, I said it.
Roxie picked me up at the train station in Poughkeepsie, and when we hit Main Street in Bailey Falls, I fell silent. It was still two weeks until Santa popped down the chimneys, but the town was ready. Each storefront was ringed with tiny white twinkle lights, each lamppost wrapped in red-and-white ribbon, looking like a legion of candy canes marching down the main drag. Beautiful evergreen wreaths, studded with pinecones and deep-red bows, hung from the signpost that hung out over the sidewalk over each store, and big old-fashioned globe lights, the outdoor kind with all the colored lights, were strewn across Main Street every twenty feet or so, supporting equally as bright signs that proclaimed Merry Christmas, Season’s Greetings, and Happy Holidays.