8. Heather
Christmas Eve is cold—so cold!—and Heather stands on her lanai early that morning as the sun rises. She’s wearing not one, but two sweaters and a shawl as she paints a watercolor scene on her easel. Dave has gone down to Fed Men Tell No Tales to get a turkey from the shipment that was supposed to arrive first thing, and Heather wants to take the time to work on her latest painting, which is of Seadog Lane and the dock in the distance. She’s hoping to finish it in time to give it to Dave’s daughter, Celia, as a gift before the family leaves the island.
“Heather?” a little voice says.
Heather turns in surprise; she’s almost forgotten that Dave’s grandchildren have spent the night in their guest room, and now his youngest grandson is there wearing Superman pajamas and rubbing his eyes tiredly.
“Finley.” Heather puts her paintbrush down and sinks to a squatting position so that she’s looking the three-year-old in the eye. “Good morning.”
“Is my Mommy here?”
Heather shakes her head gently. “No, she and your dad stayed at the hotel, remember? But you and your sister asked to stay with Grandpa, so you slept in the guest room.”
“Oh. Yeah.” Finley looks around at the front room of Heather’s villa, taking in the small fire that’s crackling in the fireplace, the tree in the corner with its white lights, and the soft glow of the overhead light on the lanai. “I’m hungry.”
Heather chuckles and stands up again. “Okay, we can fix that. What do you like to eat for breakfast?” She leads him into the kitchen, turning on the lights and opening the refrigerator grandly. “Cereal? Toast? Oatmeal?”
“Waffles. Real ones.”
“Real ones?” Heather closes the refrigerator and looks at the little boy, who is standing next to her, staring up at her wide-eyed. “As opposed to fake ones?”
“Not from the box in the freezer.” He shakes his head. “Mommy makes the real ones.”
Celia is a chef for a renowned restaurant in Providence, so Heather can imagine that she does make her waffles from scratch—probably with hand-ground cinnamon and farm fresh eggs—but Celia is most likely snoozing in a huge four-poster bed at the BB near Seadog Lane, enjoying a kid-free morning, so it’s up to Heather to come up with some reasonable approximation to her fancy waffles for little Finley.
“Does your sister like waffles, too?” Heather asks as she ruffles his soft hair. Finley continues to look up at her with big, dark, serious eyes.
“Yes,” he says. “Can I watch cartoons?”
Heather sets him up in front of her only television and then she skims her iPad for easy waffle recipes, gathering the ingredients as she moves through her kitchen. Flour. Sugar. Baking powder. Eggs. Milk. Butter. With luck, she’ll have Finley covered in syrup and smiling happily by the time Dave gets back from the store.
It’s important to Heather that he know how hard she’s trying—how hard she’s willing to try for his family. His wife had passed away after a valiant battle with breast cancer, and it’s clear that there’s a hole in the middle of the Hutchens crew that Lila left behind. Lila, Heather thinks. Did Dave love Lila more than he could ever love her? It isn’t even a truly fair question, as he and Lila were college sweethearts who raised children together and were there for the birth of their first grandchild, holding hands in the waiting room. That portion of Dave’s life is over, and Lila got to be by his side for it. But this part of his life is just beginning. Heather may not be able to offer him the things that a young wife could and did, but she can give him love, laughter, and stability, and come hell or high water, she’ll offer him easy companionship, and the knowledge that she’ll always treat his children and grandchildren like the important people they are.
“Is Mommy here?” Heather hears Lacey, seven years old and bright as the sun, ask her little brother.
“No,” Finley says. “Heather is making me waffles.”
“I want waffles.” Lacey appears in the kitchen wearing a pair of stretchy cotton pajamas that are covered in candy canes. “Hi, Heather,” she says shyly. “Can I have some waffles, too?”
“Of course you can.” Heather pours the batter she’s been making onto the hot waffle iron. “Want to help?” Lacey nods and comes to stand next to her. “Okay, then I need you to close this iron,” Heather says, taking Lacey’s small hand and putting it on the handle. “And push it down until clicks. You see this red light? When it turns green, you need to use the handle to flip it over, and then we’ll take the waffle right off the hot iron, alright?”
Lacey nods, wide-eyed. Her face is covered in freckles, and her hair is strawberry blonde and silky-thin, unlike her brother’s thick, dark mane of hair.
Heather sets the table with one eye on Lacey the entire time, and when Dave opens the door, letting in a cold blast of winter air, he stumbles onto this idyllic scene. A huge, happy grin spreads across his face as he unwinds the scarf from around his neck. “Feels like snow out there.”
“Impossible,” Heather says, padding over to him in her slippers and robe. She stands on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, which is icy cold. “Oh, my.” She steps back as she feels the chill radiating off of Dave’s coat. Shipwreck Key is never this frigid. “You’re an icicle. Go warm up by the fire with your grandson. I think he’s watching a Christmas cartoon.” Heather takes Dave’s coat and scarf as he sheds them, walking over to hang them on the coatrack by the door. As she does, her long, flowy nightgown and satin robe billow behind her.
In no time, Heather and Lacey have the table set with a platter of steaming waffles, scrambled eggs, sausage links, and hot coffee for Heather and Dave, and everyone is seated.
“Do you have milk?” Lacey asks from her seat.
Heather stands and goes to pour two glasses of milk for the kids, admonishing herself as she does for forgetting. I’ll get this right, she thinks, pulling two unbreakable glasses from her cupboard as Dave talks to the kids about the fact that it’s Christmas Eve. It’ll take some time, but I love this man, and I’ll be the best grandma to these kids that I can be.
Heather glances over and sees Dave watching her. He says nothing, but the wink he gives her as Finley tells him about pre-school says everything: he sees her. He knows she’s trying. He appreciates her. And their life together is going to be beautiful.