Free A Nantucket Christmas by Nancy Thayer Page A

winter homes, the windows dark, the trash barrels scentless. He found his way to Centre Street, where the aroma of bacon drifted from the Jared Coffin House like a love song, but the trash barrels had special locks on them, probably against marauding cats.
    Across the street, Le Lanquedoc was shut tight. He trotted past the brick town buildings and the Whaling Museum until he came to the most likely place to find food.
    Broad Street. Steamboat Wharf. Dog heaven. Taco Taco. Walters gourmet sandwiches to go. A pizza place. A coffee shop. The trash barrels lids were not so tightly fit, and being this close to the water, the ravaging gulls often did the work of breaking and entering for Snix.
    Sure enough, in an alley he found a barrel on its side, papers and cups spilling out. A group of sky rats were pecking away at the contents.
    He hesitated. Gulls were mean. They were almost bigger than Snix. Those beaks were as sharp as knives. His only hope was to fake it, so he charged toward them, barking savagely, showing his white pointed teeth. To his relief, with much irate screeching, the birds flew away.
    He’d gotten there in time. Nosing away the papers, he hunted out buns, taco shells, hamburger, and cold fries. His belly swelled. He felt so much better. So much stronger. So much more hopeful.
    He ate until he couldn’t squeeze another morsel into his body. Replete, his body begged for sleep.
    He retraced his steps to the house with the warm cave. People were out on the streets, calling out gleefully about the snow, elated that it was going to be a white Christmas. Snix wasn’t so pleased. He was scared. Still, it swelled his heart to see so many people smiling, chatting, waving, dressed in red, white, and green, their arms full of packages. It made the world seem like a friendlier place.
    Near Nantucket Bookworks, a teenage boy noticed Snix. “Hi, guy,” the kid said, reaching down to scratch Snix between the ears. “Aren’t you a cute little pooch.”
    Snix cocked his head, trying to send a message:
Take me home with you.
    A girl came out of the shop, a book bag in her hand. “Okay,” she said, “now let’s go to Murray’s Toggery. I’ll get Dad a sweater.” She linked her arm through the boy’s and led him away, not even aware of Snix sitting there wagging his tail. The boy walked off.
    But the friendly warmth of his touch remained, all through Snix’s body.
    He continued on his way, back through the maze of narrow lanes, until he found his own scent on a bush. The house had lights on inside, but he heard no sounds of people, so he took a chance and dashed straight into the backyard and through the lawn chairs into the cave.
    Oh, it was warm. The cushions were soft. The wind howled but no snow made its way inside. His belly was full. His neck had been scratched. A human had told him he was cute. Curling up in comfort, Snix fell asleep.

15
    After breakfast, Nicole cleaned the kitchen. Upstairs, she made all the beds. She considered picking up the clothes littering her stepdaughter-in-law’s floor and putting them in the laundry basket, because it had to be difficult for Kennedy to bend over. On the other hand, Princess Kennedy might object to Nicole touching her things, so she let them lie. She did a quick run through the house with the vacuum.
    As she worked, she longed to wallow in the delicious self-indulgent behavior she once treated herself with as a widow. She could no longer curl up on the sofa shoveling popcorn into her mouth while watching
Terms of Endearment
and weeping so hard she choked on her popcorn. Sebastian was too elegant to imagine she could behave in such a churlish manner, so she restrained herself. Frankly, she missed it.
    She phoned Jilly. “I’m a pariah in my own house.”
    “Poor thing. Come to Mama.”
    “I’ve got too much to do.”
    “Nonsense. If they can go out to lunch, so can we. It’s snowing, Nicole. Look out the window! We can take a long walk on the beach and let the