Chapter 17
“I hope you will be very comfortable here.”
Charlotte Brown smiled at Maggie from the doorway of the guestroom.
It was Christmas Eve, and Maggie had just arrived to stay with the Browns for the holiday.
Outside, fog was rolling across Golden Gate Bay, and the air was chilly and damp, as it had been for most of the winter, but the Browns’ house was cozy and warm, with festive garlands bedecking the banister and a tree lit up with candles in the drawing room.
After the last four months of rigorous training, Maggie was looking forward to the next few days of celebration and camaraderie.
“Philip and Adelaide have so enjoyed their friendship with you,” Charlotte continued. “And I hope you have, as well.”
“I have,” Maggie replied honestly, and then found herself tensing for what she felt sure was coming next—a gentle rebuke, or perhaps a careful yet pointed insinuation, that she should not get ideas of forming a tendresse for the Browns’ only son, or far worse, of encouraging him to form one for her.
It was what Mrs. Stein had done when she’d observed Theo’s interest in her, and Maggie had been unaccountably stung by the clear and firm warning that the Stein heir apparent would marry, and that it would not be to Maggie.
But Charlotte just smiled, her gaze as warm as ever, and said, “Good, I’m very glad of it.
Please freshen up and come down when you’re ready—Philip and Adelaide are like little children at Christmas, and they have a whole evening of amusements to entertain us!
” With another smile, she closed the door behind her, and Maggie let out a short sigh of relief as well as happiness.
Even though she’d been friends with the Brown family for two months now, it still felt strange to be seen as their equal—and their guest. The deprivations and injustices of her life in New York, and the giddy heights and crashing fall of her life in Chicago, were hard to forget, Maggie acknowledged.
But this was a new life, and she was a new person.
She moved to the window to gaze out at the steep streets of Haight Ashbury that tumbled all the way to Golden Gate Park, the view obscured by the rolling mist. She knew even without the mist she wouldn’t be able to see the bay or the waterfront this far inland, or the dilapidated houses and tenements of the Barbary Coast, but she found herself thinking about them.
As glad as she was to be with the Browns for Christmas, she missed her own family.
She missed Brendan. A pang went through Maggie as she recalled the last time she’d seen him, standing in the doorway of Miss Jessie’s, telling her how glad he was to see her settled and happy, yet with that guarded distance in his gaze.
She’d told them she’d try to get away to visit them the day after Christmas, but, in truth, she didn’t know if she’d be able to manage it. She didn’t want to be rude and leave her hosts precipitously, and besides that…
Maggie turned to gaze at the comfortable room, with its canopied bed, the fire crackling cheerfully away in the fireplace, the fresh towels laid out, along with a pitcher of hot water. Here, this, was her life now. Regrets and memories only pulled—and held—her back. She needed to embrace this, now.
Quickly, she tidied her hair, washed her face and hands, and then straightened her dress before opening the door of her bedroom and heading downstairs to join her hosts in the drawing room.
Philip, Adelaide and Charlotte were already seated, sipping sherry by the fire, which roared in the hearth.
The candles on the tree glimmered among the boughs and the velvet drapes were drawn against the dark night. It was very cozy, indeed.
“Maggie, welcome!” Adelaide cried, before turning to her brother. “Philip, pour Maggie a sherry.”
“Of course,” he answered easily, and went to the decanter.
“Thank you,” Maggie murmured as she accepted the glass. He smiled at her briefly, his head quite close to hers, his fingers brushing her own, before he stepped away.
“How wonderful, for us all to be together for two whole days,” Adelaide exclaimed. “Don’t you feel fantastically free, Maggie? I know I do.” Adelaide was, Maggie knew, gaining experience at St. Luke’s Hospital in the Mission before she hoped to join Children’s as an obstetrician.
“I do feel free,” Maggie admitted with a laugh. “It’s strange… I keep thinking I must be missing something, or that I need to be somewhere else.”
“And there’s nowhere else, not today,” Philip proclaimed with satisfaction. “Only here.”
“Which is just as it should be, because we have so much planned!” Adelaide finished.
Their enthusiasm was infectious, and Maggie found herself looking forward to a Christmas like she’d never experienced before, in the midst of a happy, busy home.
When Henry arrived, they went in to dinner, the table set magnificently with crystal and silver, and then afterward they repaired back to the drawing room for parlor games—charades, twenty questions, pass the slipper, and the minister’s cat—while the fire burned cheerfully in the hearth, and the Christmas tree glowed with candles.
Adelaide and Philip were laughingly incredulous that Maggie had never played them before, and then at pains to explain all the rules.
“What did you do at Christmas?” Adelaide asked, mystified, and Maggie just laughed and shook her head, knowing it was too much to explain.
Back in Ireland, her aunt and uncle had been the dourest of Presbyterians and had not celebrated Christmas at all.
That first year in New York, she recalled with a pang of nostalgia, she’d celebrated with Brendan and Danny.
They’d gone to midnight mass and then, while walking home, had run into one of the Whyo gang, which had rather put a pall over the evening, although they’d had a merry enough time in the end.
In Chicago, Maggie had spent Christmas alone in the new apartment Theo had furnished for her.
He’d promised to stop by, but he hadn’t, and it had been a long, lonely evening.
She’d never had a Christmas like this—convivial, merry, lighthearted, filled with conversation, good food and laughter, the room decorated with candles and holly and smelling of fir.
The closest, she supposed, would have been the one she’d spent with Brendan and Danny, and thinking about them made her miss them all the more, and her da, too.
She would simply have to find a way to see them.
It was late by the time Maggie headed up to bed, tired but happy.
She stood by the window for a moment and watched the moonlight slide in and out between clouds, resting her head against the cool glass.
She felt both sad and happy, confused and at peace, all in a way she couldn’t quite explain, even to herself.
She was so glad to be here, she knew, and yet despite all the easy effort on her hosts’ part, their kind welcome and generous conviviality, some part of her still didn’t feel at home.
Maybe she never would.
It wasn’t until the next morning that Maggie realized why.
They’d gone to church—Charlotte was the daughter of a Presbyterian missionary, Maggie recalled, so it was a wonder she celebrated Christmas at all—and then had a light luncheon before opening presents.
Christmas dinner would be served at three o’clock.
“Maggie, you must open your present first!” Charlotte proclaimed, and handed her an expensive-looking velvet box, wrapped with a silk ribbon that was tied in a bow.
“This is for me?” Maggie asked, startled by the seeming extravagance of the gift, even though she had not yet opened it, and Adelaide laughed and clapped her hands.
“Yes, you goose, of course it’s for you!”
With some trepidation, Maggie opened the box. Nestled inside was an elegant and feminine pocket watch, the kind Miss Caldicot had pinned to her apron, in smooth, polished silver, the back engraved with her swirling initials. For a second, Maggie couldn’t speak.
“Thank you,” she finally managed, looking up at them all and taking in their avid, satisfied expressions.
“This is… so very generous. I’m very grateful.
” It was too generous, she thought uneasily.
Surely this wasn’t the sort of gift you gave an acquaintance or even a friend.
It was expensive, intimate, a treasured keepsake for a beloved family member, and had to be worth a great deal indeed.
And yet there was more. Adelaide handed her another tissue-wrapped parcel, and Maggie opened it to reveal several yards of gleaming, deep green silk.
“For another dress,” Charlotte explained with a smile, and Maggie had to force an answering smile to her own lips.
Another dress, because it was so glaringly obvious that she had only one decent dress—the navy blue with black buttons that she’d been wearing every time she’d visited the Browns.
“Thank you,” she murmured again as she stroked the soft, slippery fabric.
It felt like water under her fingers and was of a far finer quality than the dress she wore.
She knew she needed another dress, and it was certainly a thoughtful gift…
so why did she feel so uneasy about it? Maggie wondered.
Why had these gifts shifted something in her own mind, something that made her feel like the scales were no longer balanced, and in truth never had been?
And, Maggie soon realized, it made her own gifts to the Browns look pathetically cheap and paltry. She hadn’t had money to buy anything significant, but she’d still wanted to give them something. But when Adelaide opened the scented notepaper she’d chosen, she felt the lack indeed.
Adelaide stared at her for a split second and then said quickly, “Thank you, Maggie. I… I am always in need of notepaper!”