Free An Island Christmas by Nancy Thayer Page A

for the Ernsts’ party, Jilly and Felicia pretended that all was normal in a stilted, fragile way, remaining so subtly out of sync that George and Archie didn’t notice. The party was such a crush, Jilly quickly recovered her good mood.
    Paul Miller approached them, addressing Archie. “Hey, aren’t you the young man who went out with George in Ed Ramos’s boat and walked all the way home from Great Point?”
    This question was asked over and over again. To her surprise, Jilly realized George’s and Archie’s foolish actions had raised them in the town’s estimation. George was no longer a retired accountant, he was a crazy eccentric like the rest of the year-rounders. George glowed with pride as he recounted his adventure, which became more embellished with each telling. Before she knew it, Jilly was telling her own friends about it, almost as if it were some adorable prank instead of something that scared her half to death.
    Over the next few days, Archie was the model son-in-law-to-be. During the day, he went out with Felicia to hike for hours on the moors or beaches. In the evenings, heshowered and dressed in his blazer, organized his wild red hair into a semblance of normality, and joined the Gordon family at several cocktail parties. Felicia remained polite but distant to her mother, as if she were avoiding an argument—or as if she were contemplating her mother’s wise words? Jilly could only hope.
    At home during the day, Jilly kept busy baking for Christmas day and all the guests. George often went off for a hike with his daughter and Archie, but Jilly never felt alone. When no one else was around, Rex came out from the laundry basket and lay in his pretty round bed in the kitchen, keeping her company. If she settled in the family room to wrap presents, Rex joined her there, folding himself up on a pillow and watching her carefully, hoping she would dangle a ribbon for him to try to catch.
    “You’re a clever little fellow, aren’t you? I’m amazed at how well you’ve adapted to life in a house. And I must say all the treats I’ve been feeding you have made you fill out quite nicely. Your coat is glossy and silky now. We shouldn’t have named you Rex. We should have named you Noel or Christmas but of course George wouldn’t like that. You’re probably too proud to accept a name like that, anyway.”
    Rex would listen as if he understood her every word, his golden eyes glowing with intelligence. He was also the only living being in the house who didn’t argue with her. She had discovered it calmed her remarkably to spend time alone talking to him, and secretly she was pleasedthat the cat always sat next to her. He was definitely her cat. She could say anything to him and he wouldn’t take offense. What a treasure!
    One night the four attended the Festival of Trees at the Nantucket Historical Association on Broad Street. In the grand historic rooms that once had been a candleworks factory, dozens of live evergreens had been decorated by artists, scholars, and merchants in dazzlingly creative and innovative ways. A few trees were actually artistic creations fashioned out of lobster traps and buoys, or books read by a book club over a series of years, or the wooden parts of an ancient sailboat. Caterers passed champagne and canapés as wild cries of delight filled the room to the highest point of the ceiling where the skeleton of a forty-six-foot sperm whale hung, reminding them of the island’s history.
    The glittering array of Christmas trees was equaled by the sparkling jewelry and dresses on the women and the colorful holiday vests, velvet jackets, or cummerbunds on the men. Everyone was here, and Jilly watched her daughter introduce Archie to them all.
    Steven Hardy was also there, handsome, elegant, and alone. He kissed Jilly’s cheek and shook George’s hand. “Merry Christmas.”
    Jilly kissed Steven’s cheek. “Merry Christmas, Steven,” she cooed as she thought frantically of a way to