Having steeled herself with a glass or two of vintage Bollinger champagne, which she had purchased as a gift for the schmuck who was supposed to take her skiing, she checked her account. And there, sitting in her email, was a bomb. However, it was not the bomb she’d expected.
To say that she was surprised by the content of Professor Pacciani’s email would have been an understatement. In fact, she felt as if the rug had been pulled out from under her.
The only Canadian woman she had ever seen Professor Emerson show even restrained affection to was Professor Ann Singer. Yes, Christa had seen Emerson with various women at Lobby, but never the same woman twice. He was friendly with other female professors and staff, but only professionally so, greeting them always and only with a firm handshake. Professor Singer, in contrast, was rewarded with a double kiss when he greeted her after his last public lecture.
Christa did not want to rekindle her relationship with Professor Pacciani. He was sorely lacking in a particular physical respect, and she had no wish to return to the previous intimate encounters that had always left her frustrated and wanting. She had standards, after all, and any man who did not measure up to at least the size of her personal service accessory was not worth screwing.
(And she would have said you could quote her.)
Since she wanted more information about Professor Emerson’s fiancée, she feigned interest in a spring rendezvous with Professor Pacciani and subtly asked for the fiancée’s name. Then she went downstairs and finished off the rest of the champagne.
* * *
The day before Christmas found Julia sitting at the counter of Kinfolks restaurant in Selinsgrove, having lunch with her father. Gabriel was doing some last minute shopping with Richard while Rachel and Aaron drove to the grocery store to pick up the turkey. Scott was still in Philadelphia with his girlfriend.
Tom had faithfully delivered Julia’s gift from Paul. She’d placed it on the floor at her feet, and now it was staring up at her, begging for attention like a puppy.
She opened it, deciding it was better to display its contents to her father than to her boyfriend. She gave the bottle of maple syrup to Tom with a smile, she giggled at the toy Holstein and kissed it, but when she unwrapped the Dante and Beatrice figurines her face grew pale. It was almost as if Paul knew. And yet, he couldn’t have known that Gabriel and Julia were Dante and Beatrice, at least to each other.
While Tom ate his blue plate special—turkey with stuffing and mashed potatoes—Julia opened Paul’s card. It displayed children engaged in a snowball fight and the typical Merry Christmas emblazoned on the front. But it was the words that Paul wrote in his own hand that brought a lump to her throat.
Merry Christmas, Rabbit.
I know it was a rough first semester and I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job of helping you when you needed it. I’m proud of you for not quitting. With a big Vermont hug
from your friend, Paul.
P.S. I don’t know if you’ve heard Sarah McLachlan’s “Wintersong,” but part of it made me think of you.
Julia didn’t know the song that he was referring to, so the lyrics he omitted did not run through her mind as she examined the card’s artwork more closely. In the center of the image of a snowball fight stood a little girl with long, dark hair in a bright red coat, laughing.
The quotation, the picture, the card, the gift—Paul had tried to keep his feelings secret, she thought, but he’d betrayed himself. It was all in the picture of the laughing girl and the song that she would listen to later.
Julia sighed and placed everything back in the box and set it at her feet.
“So, Gabriel treating you right?” Tom broached the topic of Julia’s relationship in between bites of turkey.
“He loves me, Dad. He’s very good to me.”
Her father shook his head as he reflected on how Simon had had the appearance of being good and Gabriel had the reality of being good—and how he had failed to recognize the difference.
“You let me know if he isn’t,” he said, tasting the mashed potatoes.
Julia almost rolled her eyes. Yes, it was a bit late for Tom to play the part of the overprotective father, but better late than not at all.
“When Gabriel and I drove into town this morning we went by the house. I saw the sign on the lawn.”
Tom wiped his mouth on a napkin. “I put it up for sale a couple of weeks ago.”
“Why?”
“Why not? I can’t live in a place where my daughter doesn’t feel safe.”
“But you grew up in that house. What about you and Deb?”
He shrugged and hid his expression behind a cup of coffee. “It’s over.”
She gasped. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
Tom sipped his coffee stoically. “We had a difference of opinion. And her kids don’t like me.”
Julia fidgeted with her silverware, lining them up so their ends were even.
“So Deb sided with Natalie and Simon?”
He shrugged again.
“It was a long time coming. Truth is, I’m relieved. It feels good to be a free agent.” He winked at her conspiratorially.
“I’m looking to buy a smaller house. I’d like to use some of the money I make to pay for your education.”
Julia was surprised. Then she was angry. Her conflict with him had cost her and her father so much—too much to be remedied by a criminal record and some community service. She was scarred and her father lost his prospective wife and the Mitchell family home.
“Dad, you should use the money for your retirement.”
“I’m sure there will be enough for everything. And if you don’t want to use my money for school, then use it to buy beer. From now on, it’s just you and me kid.” He reached out a hand to ruffle Julia’s hair, his preferred gesture of affection.
He excused himself to use the men’s room, leaving her alone to contemplate her half-eaten cheeseburger and her changed father. She was deep in thought, fingering the glass of ginger ale in front of her, when someone moved to occupy the stool next to her.
“Hello, Jules.”
Startled, Julia turned and found her former roommate, Natalie Lundy, sitting next to her.
There was a time when Julia had laughingly called her former friend Jolene, for her beautiful and voluptuous features perfectly matched those described in the song. But that was before Natalie had betrayed her. Now her beauty seemed harsh and cold.
As Julia stared at her, she noticed something painful about the way she was dressed—the vintage designer coat with the slightly frayed cuffs, the expensive boots that were worn and second-hand. On first glance, she looked rich and well dressed. But Julia glanced twice and saw what others could not see—the small town girl who was ashamed of her blue collar roots and wished to leave them far behind.
“Merry Christmas, Natalie. What can I get for you?” Diane, the waitress, leaned over the counter.
Julia watched as Natalie transformed from cold and sullen to cheerful and sunny, slipping into the local accent.
“Merry Christmas, Diane. I’ll just have coffee. I can’t stay long.”
The waitress smiled and poured coffee, then moved to wait on a group of Tom’s fellow volunteer firemen at the far end of the counter. As soon as her back was turned, Natalie’s demeanor changed. She glared at Julia with hate-filled eyes.
“I need to talk to you.”
“You have nothing to say that I want to hear.” Julia moved to stand, but Natalie subtly gripped her wrist.
“Sit down and shut up, or I’ll make a scene.” Her voice was low, barely above a whisper. She smiled artificially. No one would know by looking at her that she was threatening Julia, who swallowed noisily and sat back down.
Natalie released her arm with a punishing squeeze. “We need to talk about Simon.”
Julia’s eyes darted toward the men’s room, hoping that her father would reappear.
Natalie continued. “I’m going to assume that your recent misunderstanding with Simon was unintentional. You were upset; he said some things he shouldn’t have, you called the police.
“Because of that misunderstanding, Simon now has a criminal record. I’m sure I don’t need to explain why that record needs to disappear before he runs for state Senate. You need to fix the misunderstanding. Today.”
Natalie smiled and flipped her hair behind her shoulder, acting as if she and Julia were engaged in a friendly conversation.
“There’s nothing I can do,” Julia mumbled. “He’s already plea-bargained.”
Natalie took a sip of her coffee. “Don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Jules. I know that. Obviously, you need to tell the District Attorney that you lied. Explain that it was a lover’s quarrel gone awry, you got your revenge, and now you feel bad about having made the whole thing up.” She laughed a little too loudly. “Although, I don’t understand how anyone believed that Simon could be interested in you. Look at you, for God’s sake. You’re a mess.”
Julia bit back a harsh retort, deciding prudentially that silence was best.
Natalie leaned toward her, pulling the crewneck of Julia’s sweater away from her throat with icy fingers. She examined Julia’s neck carefully.
“There isn’t a mark on you. Show the D.A. your neck and tell him you lied.”