conform to all of their rules. He hadn’t in years, but no longer confronted them about it. He just led his own life, he always had. But he liked coming home for Christmas, for all the traditions, and was grateful she had come with him. He knew this wasn’t easy for her, to be constantly scrutinized. He readily admitted to her that his family lived in a cookie-cutter world, where everyone was the same and all the pieces fit. She came from a world where nothing fit, neither her mother nor her father. One was outrageous and the other was artistic and eccentric. But both she and Chris were their own people, independent of their parents’ ideas and lives.
“Your mother would have a stroke if she ever met my parents,” Francesca said ruefully.
“Yes, she would,” he agreed. “But, so what? I don’t approve of my parents either. They live an incredibly limited life and they bore me to tears.” At least he agreed with her about it, but she didn’t want to be rude about his family. They were decent, respectable people. She just felt ill at ease and off-kilter in their midst. She didn’t fit. But neither did Chris. She was comforted by that.
He slept in her bed again that night, and was gone before seven, and he had breakfast with his mother again. It was the day after Christmas, so everyone was more relaxed, even his mother. And for once, they didn’t have to go to church. Everyone played tennis and squash again, which seemed to be a daily ritual when they all got together. Francesca still couldn’t remember anyone’s name, and she felt like she had dementia. She was the only “Francesca” in the group. The men all seemed to be named Chris, Bob, or William, and there were at least five of them with each name. The women were Elizabeth, Helen, and Brooke. His mother was Elizabeth with countless offspring of all ages named after her.
The only one who seemed to be having any fun was Ian, who loved his cousins and was unhappy to leave. Chris had a last breakfast with his mother on the day they left. His father drove them to the airport and said he had loved meeting Francesca, and she felt like she had been in the twilight zone for three days. It had been the weirdest Christmas of her life, and in spite of that, she still loved him, but she couldn’t wait to get back to New York and relax. She wanted to scream with joy the minute they got back to the house. They had been there for ten minutes when her mother called her from Gstaad.
“I hope you had a nice Christmas,” she said blithely. “I met the most divine man at dinner on Christmas Eve. He lives in New York, he’s Swiss, he’s a banker, and he’s taking me to dinner as soon as I get back.” Francesca could tell her mother was beaming, and she almost groaned. It sounded like number six was on the way at last. Wait till the Harleys heard about that.
“Don’t rush into anything,” Francesca said wanly. There was no stopping her mother when she had a potential husband in her sights. And she hadn’t had one in too long, according to her. And it wasn’t for lack of trying.
“Of course not. It’s just dinner, for heaven’s sake, not marriage.”
“That’s refreshing,” Francesca said, and her mother laughed.
“You don’t trust me, do you?”
“No, I don’t. I figure you’re going to find number six one of these days.”
“What’s so wrong with that, if it makes me happy?” her mother asked her, and for a long moment Francesca didn’t answer as she thought about it.
“You know, you’re right. At this point, it doesn’t make much difference. Five, six, and if you’re happy, to hell with what everyone else thinks.” She had just spent three days with the most conservative, boring people on the planet, and they were a lot more obnoxious than her mother. At least her mother had some style and spirit. “Go for it, Mom,” she said, laughing. “Do what makes you happy. But if you throw me the bouquet at your next wedding, I’ll kill you.”
“All right, dear. See you when I get back. I may stop in Paris first.” When Francesca hung up, Chris was looking at her. He was grateful she had gone to Boston with him and been a good sport. His parents even said they liked her.
“My mother is crazy,” she told him matter-of-factly. “But I think I just figured out that I like her that way.” It was a whole new way of looking at things, and she realized that it probably meant she had grown up and accepted her mother for who she was. It was a first for Francesca.
They went upstairs to bed that night, and Francesca had never been happier to be in her own bed, with Chris lying next to her. She didn’t have to answer anyone’s questions. He didn’t have to leap out of bed and run down the hall to his own room before seven, and she didn’t have to satisfy anyone’s assessment of what she should look like, wear, or say. She was her own person even if she didn’t fit in. She fit in here in her own house and world. And she was totally happy in her own little universe with Chris next to her in his boxers and T-shirt, and Ian sound asleep downstairs. And it was a very nice little life they shared.
Chapter 24
AT THE LAST minute, with nothing else to do, Chris and Francesca decided to go back to Vermont with Ian for the New Year’s weekend and use Marya’s house there. They had no babysitter for Ian now with Marya gone, and they were happy to have him with them for a family weekend.
They liked being together, and the revelry in the city didn’t appeal to either of them. He had been invited to a few parties, and so had she. But being in Vermont seemed like a nicer way to spend it, so they drove to Vermont the day before New Year’s Eve.
Francesca went to the grocery store when they got there and got food for them. Chris lit a fire in the living room, and Ian had brought DVDs and toys with him to keep busy. It felt like the perfect way to spend the holiday to all three of them. And it looked like a Christmas card when they woke up on the morning of New Year’s Eve. It was snowing. Francesca only wished that Marya could be there with them. But she was in Courchevel in the Alps with Charles-Edouard and his friends. Francesca had had several e-mails from her and she sounded happy.
Francesca and Chris played Monopoly and Clue with Ian that night. The two of them played Scrabble, and Gin and Go Fish with Ian. And they slept in in the morning, and then played in the snow. They made a snowman and had a snowball fight, and went skating at a nearby lake that was frozen, although Francesca was nervous for Ian. She didn’t want him to fall through the ice, but he didn’t. They toasted marshmallows and made s’mores. They did all the things that all three of them liked, especially together. It was a totally perfect weekend.
Francesca heard her cell phone ring on the day after New Year, and she was almost too lazy to answer. She finally got up and answered it, annoyed that it wouldn’t stop ringing. It went to voice-mail twice, and they called again. Francesca finally picked it up and was glad she did. It was Marya, calling from Paris.
“Guess where we are?” Francesca said happily. “In Vermont. It’s been snowing for two days and it’s gorgeous.” They were sleeping in Marya’s room, and Ian was in the four-poster in the guest room, as Marya had suggested the last time they came here with her. “Happy New Year.” She assumed that that was why Marya was calling. “How’s Paris?”
“Beautiful. It snowed yesterday here too. I think we found a flat on the rue de Varenne.” It was exactly where they had wanted to be, in the seventh arrondissement. “Charles-Edouard has been negotiating for it all week.” She hesitated for a minute and then went on. “I have something to tell you.” Francesca waited, and missed her fiercely. “We got married yesterday. Just the two of us and a few friends. His divorce came through before Christmas. The papers were here when we got back. I feel a little crazy, but I’m glad we did it. And if he ever cheats on me, I’ll kill him.” They both laughed, and Charles-Edouard got on the phone a minute later, and Francesca congratulated both of them. It was amazing how destiny intervened and life worked out. Marya had thought she was going to be alone forever, and then his wife left him and everything changed. Now five months later they were married. A year ago she would never have dreamt that this could happen.
“I’m so happy for both of you,” Francesca said. She meant it, and Chris was beaming too. They sounded so happy, and they deserved it.
“I wish you’d been here,” Marya said wistfully, and Francesca wished she had been too. It was one wedding she would have liked to be at, with two people who meant so much to her. She and Chris were still smiling when they hung up, after talking to them for a few more minutes.
They lay in bed afterward, talking about it, and how happy they were for them.
“So when are we going to do that?” Chris asked her. For a long moment, Francesca didn’t answer.
“I don’t know. What’s the hurry? Things seem to be working like this.” They had only been dating for four months.
