hard and soft, was served in glass mugs and garnished with sticks of cinnamon.
“No food?” Max teased.
Emma smacked him on the shoulder with her palm. “Is this not the perfect winter tableau?” She curtsied and spread out her hands, palms up.
“Did you steal it from the set of
“Steal? Don’t be silly. We don’t steal, we borrow,” she said.
Emma wore her happiness lightly but carefully, like a lace shawl. Even if she hadn’t been Max’s sister, she was the type of woman I would have wanted to befriend.
Joe and Emma stayed behind by the fire while the rest of us trooped to the Boston Common. Heather’s friend Buddy showed up, so there were three couples—and me. I was used to being the odd one out, but it felt worse when Max was there. The Wheaton girls were wearing short pleated skating skirts. I wore black jeans, a little too tight for skating. I’m a good skater and know what to wear to be comfortable, but I was aiming for a little more style than usual, and my aim wasn’t good.
Lindsay walked beside me on the way to the Common.
“You used to know Max, didn’t you?” Lindsay asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“I think he’s wonderful. It’s amazing that he hasn’t tried to sleep with me yet. He’s such a gentleman.”
“You haven’t even been out alone together, have you?” I asked.
“Well, no, but that could be easily arranged.” She slipped on a piece of ice and grabbed me to keep from falling. She pulled me off-balance, but I managed to stay upright.
“How is your writing going?” I asked.
“I haven’t really done anything during the vacation. We’ve been so busy. I wanted to ask you. You are so good at figuring things out. You seem to know more than we do, about almost everything. What do you think of me and Max?”
“I’m not sure what you’re asking,” I said.
“Do you think he’s as crazy about me as I am about him?” She looked up at me with a face so young and free from blemish I couldn’t imagine a world in which any man wouldn’t be crazy about her.
“I don’t know,” I said.
“He kissed me, you know,” she said. “Last night as he was leaving. And it wasn’t just any kiss. It was a real kiss, if you know what I mean.”
Unfortunately, I did.
We sat on benches around the edge of the pond to put on our skates. I had thrown mine into the trunk of my car when I left Louisburg Square. Not everyone would think that skates would be necessary to their winter, but I usually skated at least once a week.
I watched the three couples, the men kneeling to help the women on with their skates. As I leaned over my own, I pictured Jack Reilly at my feet. Jack Reilly would wear his leather jacket, even though it was too cold to wear only leather. His cigarette would hang from his lips and the smoke would drift past my face as he bent over my skates. He’d make Max look conventional. I had to find Jack Reilly, if only to give me something special to announce to the Wellesley College girls after Christmas.
I finished lacing my skates, flew out onto the ice, and executed a single axel. I twirled, reversed, did crossovers and backward crossovers. I soared in my own little world.
“Look at Jane,” Heather said as she struck out with a tentative step. “She’s a terrific skater.”
Lindsay, who was a little more sure on her feet, skated over to me. “I hope when I’m your age, I’ll know half the things you know.” She spoke loudly and tilted her head toward Max.
“Me too,” Max said.
“You’re as old as Jane, aren’t you?” Lindsay asked.
“No one is as old as Jane,” Max said. With that, he took off and skated to the other side of the pond. Lindsay followed him, and when she caught up to him, she slipped her arm through his.
I took a step, then another. I didn’t know what he meant. No one was as old as me? My mother always said I was born old. Maybe that’s what he meant.
I started to spin and I spun and twirled in smaller and smaller circles until I got dizzy and crashed on the ice, splayed like an idiot rag doll. The wind was knocked out of me and I couldn’t get up right away. When I looked up, it was Max who was staring down at me.
“I’m okay,” I said. I must have been blushing right through my clothes. Max took my gloved hand and helped me to my feet. Everyone else who had been skating on the pond, or even sitting on the sidelines, had stopped to look.
“Okay, show’s over,” Max called out. Max kept my hand in his as if he had forgotten he held it. He wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he was gazing toward the Public Garden, which was frozen over now.
Max glanced down at our enjoined hands and let go. He turned toward me.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked.
We were standing so close together I could feel the coolness of his sigh on my cheek. If I hadn’t known better, I might have thought we were just one breath away from a kiss.
But then Lindsay barreled toward us and, not being too sure on her feet, smacked into Max and he had to hold her to keep her from falling.
“Is Jane all right?” she asked in a loud voice. Everyone was still staring at me, and though I hated to be the center of attention under any circumstance, it was worse when it originated in an embarrassing fall.
Max examined me as if he was trying to read something in my face that had not yet been written. “If you’re okay, then.” He skated off with Lindsay and slipped his arm around her waist. She beamed up at him.
I stood alone in the center of the pond and watched everyone skating around me.
Chapter 19
Max came to the Maples’ on Christmas Eve to give gifts. He gave both Lindsay and Heather Burberry scarves. While a cashmere Burberry scarf is certainly a lovely gift, it’s hardly personal. I had expected that he’d give Lindsay a piece of jewelry—maybe not
Max did have something else up his sleeve, the pièce de résistance. He invited the Maple family to go skiing up north. Everyone was going except for Marion and Charles Sr., who were staying home to take care of the children.
And he hadn’t forgotten me. My present was on the bottom of his pile. He didn’t look me in the eye when he handed it over.
“Open it, Jane,” Lindsay said. She was stroking her scarf absently.
I ripped open the wrapping as I’d seen the Maple girls do. No more careful scraping at the tape with a nibbled fingernail.
Inside the box was a leather journal. The paper was smooth and creamy.
“It’s from Italy,” Max said. “Do you still keep a journal?”
I lowered my eyes. I placed my palm on the cover of the book.
“I do,” I said.
“Oh, that’s beautiful, Jane,” Lindsay said. “Max, you have such fabulous taste. You really do.” She reached out to take the journal so she could look at it more closely, but I didn’t give it to her. Instead, I pretended I didn’t see that she wanted it.
And what did I get for Max? I bought him a pair of shoes. I couldn’t think of anything else, but I thought shoes from Brooks Brothers would hark back to that first pair, the pair that brought us together. It was meant as a soft joke, or so I thought. Maybe I meant more by it.
“You bought him shoes?” Lindsay said when he opened the box. Yes, obviously I had bought him shoes. “How did you even know his size?”
