11. Heather
Merging lives with another person. Becoming Mrs. Hutchens. Becoming Mrs. Anyone—again.
Heather stands there at her kitchen sink, watching her hands move around in the soapy water, where she”s washing pots and pans. It”s nearly midnight on Christmas Eve, and she has served a huge turkey dinner to Dave”s kids and grandkids, and everyone has retired upstairs for the evening to sleep and wait for Santa Claus.
”Heather Charlton-Bicks-Hutchens,” she whispers to herself. ”Too much.” There”s a tiny television on her kitchen counter and it”s tuned to an episode of House Hunters on HGTV. Heather turns her head to watch as a young couple searches for their first home in the suburbs of Portland, Oregon, and for a moment she”s transported to another time and place.
”What do you think of this?” Edward asked, coming up behind his young bride in the breakfast nook of the small house near the Jersey Shore. Heather had been twenty-nine, Edward nearing seventy at this point, but a ”young seventy,” as she liked to tell herself.
She wrapped her arms around her own waist, setting both hands on Edward”s forearms as she let him hug her from behind. The beach house they were looking at was adorable, and just steps from the Atlantic Ocean in Pt. Pleasant. Edward had recently retired from a long and successful career on Wall Street, and with retirement came the desire to split his time between Manhattan and the Jersey shore--not to mention frequent trips to Europe, Palm Beach, and the west coast.
”It”s just lovely, Edward,” Heather had said with tears in her eyes, rocking back and forth a little bit as she snuggled into the arms of her second husband.
Edward, always a romantic, and completely indulgent of his young wife, squeezed her and let go. ”I”ll speak to the real estate agent,” he said with finality. ”By the first day of summer, we”ll be here, ready to dig our toes into the sand.”
Heather had watched as Edward--still incredibly distinguished and agile--walked through the rest of the downstairs, inspecting every detail. The house was extremely well-appointed: huge windows looking out at the ocean; a giant, white brick-framed fireplace; oak floors; marble countertops and all new appliances throughout—but somehow Heather knew it would all be temporary.
As she watched Edward get on his knees and examine a built-in bookshelf, she already envisioned a time in the not-too-distant future when he wouldn”t be able to kneel down, stand up, and get around as easily. Was it wrong to think that way? Maybe, but it was honest. And prescient, as it turned out: just a year later, a stroke took Edward, grabbing him on the golf course, and leaving Heather a thirty-year-old widow with a medicine cabinet full of ovulation kits in her bathroom. Her dream of motherhood had never been realized during her short second marriage.
Now, as the young couple on her television discuss the lack of double vanities in the master bath, Heather rinses a giant colander in her sink and sets it on the drying rack. She doesn”t mind doing dishes, and she doesn”t mind how her life has played out. Shortly after Edward”s passing, she”d married his older brother, Bates, and she”d loved him, too. In fact, she”d loved all of her husbands, and not because they were rich or because they pampered her (though they were, and they did)--she”d loved them all because of the sense of wonder she saw on their faces whenever they looked at her. And maybe every woman who falls for much older men feels this way; maybe they all know the secret of being loved by a man who sees you as a treasure and a gift. For Heather, that”s certainly always been the case, and it is with Dave, too. When she first caught his eye on Christmas Key the previous New Year”s Eve, he”d winked at her in a way that felt almost fatherly--until it didn”t.
She”d gone over to him, introduced herself, and before long, they”d been kissing under the moonlight as they rang in the new year. Or, as Dave liked to say when he told people the story of their meeting, ”Bing, bang, boom--we were in love!”
Heather smiles to herself as she thinks of the proud way he says this, and she catches a glimpse of her own reflection in the darkened window above the sink. She looks tired (she is--she”s been cooking all day and cleaning all evening), and she looks happy (she is--she”s just one week from her wedding day, and it”s going to be magical), but the woman looking back at her also looks settled, and that”s something Heather has never truly felt before. She feels as though she”s not (for the first time ever) just a bit too young to be marrying the man of her dreams. She feels grown-up, experienced, comfortable in her own skin, and it just...it feels right.
Heather dries her hands on a towel and turns off the television right before the young couple chooses between a three-story townhouse in a hip downtown area, or a five-bedroom family home in the suburbs. Whichever one they choose won”t matter in the end, and she knows this now. It isn”t the house itself that brings happiness, but what kind of life you live inside that house.
And she”s ready to live a good life with Dave Hutchens--no matter how many years they have together.
* * *
On Christmas morning Celia takes over kitchen duties, running things like the professional chef that she is. Heather wakes up to find Dave with Finley and Lacey sitting on either side of him, and everyone is wearing matching pajamas--everyone but her, that is.
”Good morning,” Heather says as she pulls her robe around her body and tightens the sash. She”s overslept and missed the kids waking up to dump out their stockings, and Dave has a pair of reading glasses perched on the tip of his nose as he reads through an instruction manual for putting together a toy that Finley has unboxed. ”I didn”t mean to sleep so late. You should have woken me.”
”Coffee, Heather?” Celia”s husband Matt is standing near the Christmas tree wearing a pair of reindeer antlers on his head as he sips from a mug with the Grinch on it. ”Let me pour you a cup. Cream? Sugar?”
Heather blinks a few times, trying to acclimate. She’d been more than happy to have Dave’s family here at her house for the holiday, but now that she’s waking up on Christmas morning to a houseful of near-strangers, it feels a bit strange.
“Coffee would be nice,” she says to Matt. “Thank you. Cream, please.”
“Heather!” Lacey says, standing up from the couch and rushing over to the tree. “I got a new Barbie car!”
Heather is slowly waking up and she desperately needs coffee to feel alert, but she musters the appropriate amount of excitement for this revelation. “Wow!” she says, sitting on the couch next to Dave and accepting the pink plastic car for inspection. “That is amazing. I love it.”
Heather had never been much of a Barbie girl as a kid—she’d been a baby doll girl, through and through. For as long as she can remember, she’d always wanted to be a wife and a mom, and when she played, it was always with dolls in strollers, walks to the park to push her “baby” in the swing, or pretending to bake cakes or make dinner for her imaginary family.
“Here you go,” Matt says, handing her a mug with a flourish.
Heather looks up at him gratefully and mouths the words: Thank you.
“So, it’s Christmas morning,” Dave says cheerily, slapping both of his knees as he watches his grandchildren playing on the floor. “What do you do for the holiday, Heather? Any special traditions?” A frown passes over Dave’s face. “It’s weird that I don’t know that yet, but since we met on New Year’s Eve last year, I guess this is our first official Christmas together.”
Heather takes a long, fortifying sip of hot coffee and lets the sensation coat her from within before she answers. “That’s true,” she says, taking one more quick sip. “It is our first holiday together. And as far as traditions, just the normal ones, I guess. Wake up, open stockings, enjoy the holiday and have breakfast. Then we opened gifts and pretty much just stayed in pajamas unless we were going to see relatives, or if anyone was coming to see us.”
“This is when you were a kid?” Matt asks eagerly. He’s truly a nice guy, and Heather has observed him being incredibly helpful to the people around him on several occasions. He’s Celia’s partner in every sense of the word, and Heather has watched them with admiration, thinking how much fatherhood and marriage have changed over the years.
“Yes,” Heather says, sinking back into the couch with her coffee clutched between both hands. “When I was a kid. How about you?”
Matt smiles and sits on the floor with his children, reindeer antlers still firmly in place. “Well, I’m Jewish,” he says, “so we didn’t really do Christmas when I was a kid, but I love it. Celia introduced me to the traditions, and now we celebrate both.”
“Oh!” Heather had not known that Matt was Jewish. “Happy Hanukkah, Matt!” She frowns. “Wait—did we miss it this year?” Oh, God, this is embarrassing, Heather thinks. I’m such a dunce that I don’t even know if Hanukkah has happened yet!
“Actually,” Matt says with a good-natured grin. “It starts tonight and goes through January second. So your timing is good.”
“And your parents?”
“In New York,” Matt says. He gives an eager nod. “My sisters and their kids are all up there with them, but this year we’re down here. All good, though—they’re very cool about splitting up holidays.”
“I suppose you have to be, once your kids are adults, right?” Heather looks to Dave for confirmation.
“Mom never was,” Celia says as she breezes into the open living space, depositing a platter of scrambled eggs mixed with bits of prosciutto and aged cheddar cheese. “She hated that we spent some holidays away once we were grown, right, Dad?”
Dave clears his throat next to Heather, shifting on the couch almost imperceptibly. “Well, she did love having everyone around for Christmas,” he says evenly before turning to Heather. “Hey, did you see the snow is gone?”
Heather looks out the windows and through her lanai to the sand beyond. Sure enough, the sky is gray and overcast, but there is no falling snow.
“Oh, I love that it snowed on Christmas Eve,” she says wistfully. “That was magical.”
“Next year we can spend the holidays in Vermont, if you want. Then you’ll have snow for sure,” Dave says. He smiles at his soon-to-be bride as he takes a swig of his own coffee. “We can do anything we want.” Dave gives Heather a long look as he reaches over and laces his fingers through hers. As he does, Heather notices that Celia is watching with a look on her face that seems intentionally devoid of emotion. “I’ll take you on a cruise, or we can go find snow, or we can just stay here.” He looks incredibly pleased with himself as he squeezes her hand in his. “I’m just happy that we’ll be spending every holiday from now on as husband and wife.”
Heather is sure that she hears a sigh from Celia as she turns and heads back to the kitchen, but Dave misses it completely.
“Sweetheart,” Heather says, composing her face into a calm, casual smile. “I think I’m just going to help Celia get breakfast on the table while you boys manage the kids and the toys here.” She stands up, taking her coffee with her. At her feet, the kids play happily, totally oblivious to the fact that their grandfather’s upcoming wedding might be upsetting their mom.
Heather sets her coffee on the kitchen counter. Celia’s back is to her, and she’s moving around efficiently and brusquely.
“Can I help?” Heather offers.
Without turning, Celia shakes her head. “I’ve got things in here. I’ve run a much bigger kitchen than this for over a decade now.”
“I have no doubt that you can handle it, I just wanted to pitch in.” Heather waits. She understands the delicate dynamics of a father and daughter, and she’s married into enough families to know that not everyone will be pleased when the paternal figure of the group chooses a younger bride.
Celia turns to her, but keeps her gaze averted. “Uhhh, I guess you can carry those dishes out to the table.” She waves a hand in the direction of a colorful fruit salad and a basket of warm croissants.
“Celia…” Heather isn’t entirely sure what she wants to say, she just knows that it’s Christmas, and she wants the younger woman to feel better about the fact that they’re going to be bound to one another in the coming years. “I really appreciate you coming down here for the holidays, even though you’re missing Christmas at home. I know it means a lot to your dad.”
Suddenly, Celia sets a spatula on the counter and leans both hands on the island. Her eyes are flashing as she looks right at Heather. “My dad is one of the most important people in the world to me,” she says quietly. “Now that I’m an adult, he’s more like a friend than he is my dad, and I talk to him on the phone for an hour at least once a week.”
“That won’t change, Celia.”
“It will.” She nods quickly and angrily. “He’ll start being ‘too busy’ to talk, and then he’ll keep getting older, needing more care, and I won’t be close enough to be there for him.” Her anger seems to soften into worry right before Heather’s eyes, and she can’t help but feel for Dave’s daughter as she thinks about her father aging and needing more from her. Heather hadn’t been fortunate enough to have a father who lived past the age of fifty, but she can imagine her concern for him if he was still alive, living somewhere miles away and needing her.
“I promise you that no matter what, I’ll keep an open line of communication with you when it comes to your dad,” Heather says gently. “If he needs anything at all, or if anything…changes,” she says, swallowing hard as she tries not to imagine Dave ill or compromised in any way, “then I’ll call you immediately.”
Celia shrugs and turns away from her like a petulant teenager, which, in this moment, Heather can imagine her being. It’s funny the way that, even as an adult, your parents and family can turn you into a kid again and unveil the same old scrapes and bruises that have always been there.
“I just don’t want to lose him,” Celia says quietly. In fact, Heather is almost sure she didn’t hear her, but then Celia turns her head back over her shoulder and looks in Heather’s direction. “My mother has only been gone for three years.”
While Heather already knows this, seeing the pain that Lila’s death caused her daughter is a different thing than just hearing that she’d died. Dave had watched his wife die, and his pain and loss had been tempered by the exhausting and unpredictable course of her disease. He’d been there for the day-to-day needs and the rapid decline of the wife he’d loved, so for him, there was a sense of release—for both him and for his beloved wife—at the end. For Celia, there was nothing but the loss of her mother.
“I know,” Heather says in a voice so soft it feels like it’s coming from deep inside a cave. “And I know you all loved her so much. She sounds like an incredible woman.”
“She was,” Celia says quickly. Behind her on the stove, the oven timer beeps a warning. Celia ignores it. “My mother was the center of our family. She never missed anything her children did, and she was always available if you wanted to call and talk. She made every holiday special, and I never ever heard her and my dad fight.”
Heather realizes that Celia needs to talk this through, but the fact that she’s being lectured on Christmas morning by a grown woman who wants her to understand what big shoes she has to fill—or perhaps Celia wants her to understand that she’ll never fill them—stings.
“No one is trying to replace your mom, Celia.”
“I’m not a child. I understand that,” Celia bites back. As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she looks regretful. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. This is your home, and we’ve invaded,” she says, looking around and clearly finding it lacking. Undoubtedly, Lila would have done things differently. Perhaps decorated more lavishly, or insisted on living in Providence to be closer to her kids.
“Does your brother feel the same way that you do about this?” Heather ventures. Dave’s son, William, has opted to stay at the BB with his wife, and they’ll be over later in the afternoon to celebrate Christmas.
“My brother doesn’t care. He’s a total hippie. He lives in an ‘artist’s colony’ in Santa Fe, for god’s sake. As far as Will is concerned, Dad could shave his head, convert to Buddhism, and become a monk. He’d be like ‘Right on, dude.’” Celia snorts. “Sometimes I’m not even sure we were raised by the same people.”
“It does tend to feel that way with siblings,” Heather says offhandedly, thinking of her own family. Her brother and sister are as different as night and day to her, and both distanced themselves as soon as it was clear that Heather was prone to dating and marrying men who were old enough to be her father or grandfather. That said, if she called either of them, she knew they’d pick up. She’d do anything for them, and no matter what happens in life, she feels relatively certain that most siblings feel that way about the people they grew up with.
Celia stands there, hands still on the counter as the oven timer beeps again. This time she turns around, slides on her oven mitts, and pulls out a casserole dish, which she sets on the stovetop.
“I just want him to be happy,” Celia says as she moves around, opening and closing drawers. “Serving spoons?”
“Last drawer on the right,” Heather says automatically.
“Thanks.” Celia shoves the spoon into the edge of the casserole somewhat roughly and then turns back to Heather. She stares at her, long and hard. “Let me ask you something: can you make him happy?”
From the living room come the sounds of the two men chatting about sports and answering the kids’ questions about Santa Claus. Heather almost smiles, but the look on Dave’s daughter’s face, which is intense and anticipatory, stops her short.
“I can try,” Heather says honestly. “I love him very much. Dave is a special man, and he’s agreed to spend half the year down here on Shipwreck Key with me, while I’ve agreed to spend half the year in Rhode Island for him. We’ll do the best we can to make each other happy, and to live a good, active life together.”
“I hear you’ve been married a few times before,” Heather says, arching an eyebrow as if she expects that the fact she knows this will bowl Heather over. It does not.
“Five times,” Heather says honestly. If she’s ever going to win Celia’s trust, she’s going to have to be open with her. “Dave will be my sixth.”
“My god…” Celia shakes her head. “That’s insane.”
The judgment in her voice is hurtful, but Heather soldiers on. She lifts her chin slightly, letting Celia know that being judged by another woman for her choices isn’t going to hurt her.
“To some people, yes, but it’s how my life has gone. I’ve loved a lot, and I’ve mostly loved men who were older than me. Quite a bit older.”
Celia snorts again, and Heather is starting to think of it as her signature sound. “Why the older men, Heather? Is it the money?”
This feels like a punch to the gut.
“My first marriage was all about love and security. The next four were just love. The fact that most of them had a fair amount of money wasn’t really important to me. But Celia, you have to understand that most men of a certain age have worked their entire lives and have amassed some sort of money. Many have real estate, stocks, savings. It isn’t that I went searching for rich men, it was more that I went looking for love, and I found men who were at a point in their lives where they’d worked hard and found some success.”
Celia listens, but there”s a hardness to her face that”s unmistakable. Finally, she nods, but she won”t meet Heather”s eye again.
”Would you be willing to sign a prenup? Because I think you should. My parents worked too hard--together--to earn what my dad has now, and I don”t want him to lose everything when you two don”t work out.”
Rather than saying anything she might regret, Heather blinks a few times. As a woman who has been down this road before, it”s not the first time she”s been confronted by an adult child worried about their father”s estate, but it is the first time she”s been asked to sign a prenup on Christmas morning by a daughter who is already assuming that the marriage won”t work out.
”If that”s what Dave wants,” she says after considering it. ”I will do whatever Dave asks of me, but it”s up to him to make that request.” And she will do it--if Dave asks her to. But it”s not his daughter”s place to demand it, and Heather is suddenly feeling extremely tired. She”d like nothing more than to go back to bed with a book while she lets the Hutchens family enjoy their Christmas morning.
In fact, that”s exactly what she”s going to do.
Rather than explain herself, Heather plucks a croissant from the basket, and then she tops up her coffee. Celia watches her with curiosity as she moves around the kitchen.
With her hands full, Heather turns in the doorway and looks back over her shoulder at Dave”s daughter. ”Tell everyone I said Merry Christmas. I”m going back to bed. Enjoy your breakfast.”
* * *
As the day wears on, Dave comes to check on Heather several times.
”Are you sure you”re feeling alright?” he asks with a frown the first time he comes up.
And then, on his second visit to her bedroom when he finds her propped up in bed and reading a book on her Kindle: ”You missed the breakfast Celia worked on all morning. I think she was really upset.”
”Hmm.” Heather reaches for her coffee and sips it. It’s gone cold. ”Sorry about that. But I don”t think she missed her future stepmother joining you all on Christmas morning.”
Perplexed, Dave closes the door behind him and comes to sit on the foot of the bed. ”Did something happen in the kitchen?” he asks, looking worried. ”I thought we were all having a nice time.”
”I”m just feeling rundown,” Heather says with a calm smile. ”I want to make sure I”m at my best on our wedding day.”
Dave nods, looking thoughtful as he shifts his gaze to the window. ”Right. Of course.” They”re both quiet for a long moment. ”I want you feeling good that day, too. What can I do for you?”
Heather reaches out to take his hand, touched by his thoughtfulness. ”You can go back down there and have a wonderful Christmas Day with your daughter, her husband, and their kids. I mean that.” Heather is looking at him with sincerity. ”I”m completely happy here for now, and if I need something, I”ll come down to get it.”
Dave gives her hand a squeeze and lets it go before standing. ”Okay,” he says. ”As you wish.”
After he”s gone, Heather looks out the window at the overcast sky. She feels over-caffeinated and like she wants to shower and brush her teeth. But rather than get up, she snuggles down further under her blankets, pulling them up to her chin. Bed is where she belongs today. She and Celia need to be in their own separate corners on such an important holiday, and then they can regroup later and try to find common ground.
She”ll deal with it all tomorrow.