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  Once their server leaves them to enjoy the appetizers, Eddie says, “What is it?”

  “I’ve been talking with Benton,” Grace says. “He called with a proposition when he got back from Detroit, and I’ve met with him three times to discuss it.”

  Proposition. Met with him three times.

  “Three times?” Eddie says. Grace is telling him the exact number of times she has been with Benton. Three! Three is a lot! Actually, it’s less than Eddie feared, but he won’t tell her that.

  “Try the foie gras,” Grace says. “I’m happy to share.”

  How can she be thinking about eating at a time like this? Eddie wonders. Granted, it’s Thanksgiving, but Grace is about to detonate the bomb that will destroy their marriage, their family, their lives.

  I am not happy to share! Eddie thinks.

  “Eddie?” Grace says. She’s looking at him across the candlelit table. The tables at American Seasons are all hand-painted with different scenes and schemes, and Eddie and Grace are seated at the chessboard table. This seems appropriate. He’s the king and Grace is the queen, but he has been forced into checkmate by their former gardener.

  “What?” Eddie says.

  “Benton has offered me a job. He wants me to come work for him, working in garden design and implementation. His partner left and Benton has more work than he can handle on his own. We always had the same aesthetic, the same sensibility—that was the attraction, I think, more than anything else. And he’s going to pay me, Eddie…”

  Eddie lifts his eyes from the table.

  “… twenty-five hundred a week to start. Plus bonuses, when projects reach completion. I told him I’d talk to you before I gave him an answer. But I want to say yes. The girls are growing up and I’m bored. Also, we could use the money.”

  Twenty-five hundred a week, so ten thousand a month. With bonuses. A steady income.

  But Eddie can’t risk having Grace work for her former beloved. Can he?

  “What about… your feelings?” Eddie says. “Your feelings for Benton? If I say yes, you can work for him, and the next thing I know, you’re sleeping with him? How can I trust you, Grace?”

  “I know that part will be difficult,” Grace says. “But let me start by saying that my romantic feelings for Benton are dead and gone. I’m fond of him as a friend. And he’s back together with McGuvvy. She’s still in Detroit now, but she’s moving to Nantucket after the holidays and they’re going to live together, and their house is also the office.” She smiles. “You don’t have anything to worry about, although I know my word doesn’t stand for much.”

  Eddie takes a deep breath, then a deep drink of his twenty-six-dollar champagne. He feels like it’s Christmas instead of Thanksgiving. Grace is taking a job that will bring in real money! She’ll be doing something she enjoys! Benton is back together with McGuvvy!

  “Your word is all I need,” Eddie says. After all, Grace has placed trust in Eddie as well; she believes he is no longer lying to her or breaking the law—and he’s not. He never will again.

  Eddie floods with relief, with joy. He picks up his fork and tastes one of the caviared scallops.

  “Delicious,” he says, and he flags their server to order another one for himself.

  PART THREE

  DECEMBER

  BART

  The first weekend of December on Nantucket is Christmas Stroll. It has been this way Bart’s entire life, but he never cared, barely noticed, and didn’t think to celebrate.

  Until this year.

  Because this year he’s in love.

  He’s in love!

  On the Friday of Stroll, Mitzi wants Bart out of the house because there are interested buyers coming to look at the inn. Bart heads down to Main Street, which is as busy and bustling as it is on any summer day—only now the shop windows are all decked out with snowflakes and glass ornaments, wreaths, ribbons, gingerbread houses, candy canes, and reindeer. Main Street is lined with Christmas trees, each one decorated by a class at Nantucket Elementary School. That was probably the last time Bart was excited about Stroll—when his fifth-grade class came downtown during the school day to hang their ornaments on their tree and Ms. Paul took them to Nantucket Pharmacy for hot chocolate.

  When Bart steps into Bayberry Properties and sees Allegra’s face, Christmas has a whole new meaning.

  She says, “I can take my lunch break now. Want to stroll?”

  They hold hands and walk up the street, poking into the bookstore first, then into Murray’s Toggery, and then Bart leads Allegra over to the pharmacy for a nostalgic cup of hot chocolate. She takes a sip and gets a speck of whipped cream on her nose.

  “I’m in love with you,” Bart says.

  “What?” Allegra says. “You are?”

  “I am,” Bart says. He doesn’t care if it’s too soon, he doesn’t care if they’re too young, he doesn’t care that they both still live with their parents at home. He doesn’t even care if Allegra is in love with him in return (okay, maybe he does care, but judging from the glow of her face and the light in her eyes every time she looks at him, he isn’t worried; she’s in love with him, too), because he gets it now. He gets it completely. The world makes sense. It has meaning, and that meaning is love, and love, for him, is Allegra Pancik.

  On Saturday, Allegra has agreed to help her mother decorate for Christmas up at Academy Hill. There’s a tree in the lobby that needs trimming, and there is garland to be hung, as well as wreaths for the front door and all of the front windows. The residents of Academy Hill usually come down from their apartments to watch, and Mr. Lazear, who is “seriously ninety years old,” according to Allegra, and who used to be the music teacher back when Academy Hill was a school in the 1950s, leads everyone in carols.

  “It’s actually kind of fun,” Allegra says. “I went with my mom last year. We could really use your help if you know anything about stringing lights or draping garland.”

  Does Bart know anything about stringing lights or draping garland? He’s only Mitzi Quinn’s son, and Mitzi Quinn is only the biggest Christmas fanatic south of the North Pole.

  “I’m your man,” Bart says.

  “I can’t tell you how grateful I am,” Allegra’s mother, Grace, says. “Eddie is showing houses all weekend, and he isn’t handy anyway.”

  “No problem,” Bart says. He unpacks the artificial tree, and he and Allegra snap its branches into place, then get it covered in white lights. Allegra hangs the ornaments, while Grace sets out a punch bowl, which she fills with juice, ginger ale, and a container of rainbow sherbet, and arranges a platter of homemade sand tarts and peanut butter cookies with chocolate kiss centers.

  As Bart hangs the wreaths, the lobby fills with residents, many of whom Allegra walks over to introduce to Bart.

  “My boyfriend, Bart Quinn,” Allegra says.

  “Is this the war hero?” one gentleman asks.

  “Bart Quinn, sir, United States Marine Corps.”

  Once the news circulates that Allegra has a new boyfriend, everyone wants to meet Bart, shake his hand, thank him for his service, and tell him what an honor it is to have him right here at Academy Hill. One of the residents served in Korea with the Army; one of the women was a battlefield nurse in Vietnam. Mrs. Hester, who must be nearly deaf, comments very loudly about how handsome Bart is, and Mr. Reinemo says just as loudly that Bart is a lucky young man to be courting someone as fetching as Allegra.

  Then Mr. Lazear enters the lobby singing “Deck the Halls.” The next request is for “Jingle Bells,” and Bart thinks of Ava—she really and truly despises this song—but everyone in the lobby belts it out with the enthusiasm of schoolchildren. During the endless, empty hours that Bart was being held prisoner, he used to conjure the faces he was fighting for back home, but he never once thought of the elderly. Mostly he thought about babies, kids, people his age who were the future of the country. But now he feels proud that he was also fighting for people who are living out their final years with pu
rpose and dignity, people who have known enemies other than ISIS and the Bely, people who understand the cost of freedom.

  Mrs. Hester rummages through a box until she finds the plastic mistletoe, and as everyone sings, she implores Bart to hang the mistletoe in the doorway. He does so, and then Mrs. Hester directs Allegra and Bart to stand beneath it.

  “I think they want us to kiss now,” Allegra says.

  “Well, we can’t disappoint them,” Bart says. He leans down to kiss Allegra, and the room erupts in cheers.

  JENNIFER

  PLEASE JOIN US IN CELEBRATING THE SEASON…

  AND THE FORTHCOMING FIRST SEASON OF REAL-LIFE REHAB

  STARRING BOSTON INTERIOR DECORATOR JENNIFER QUINN

  MANDARIN ORIENTAL HOTEL

  DECEMBER 9, 2017

  6:30–8:30 P.M.

  SINTV

  Patrick picks the invitation up off the counter and whistles. “You are the star,” he says. “Your name is on the invite and everything.”

  “Mandarin Oriental,” Jennifer says. “Not too shabby.” She kisses Patrick on the lips. “I bought you a new holiday tie to wear. It’s on the bed.”

  “Wow,” Patrick says. “It’s starting to feel like the good old days.”

  Jennifer knows what he means. She signed the contract for the first season and received a nice fat check, which went right into the bank. Now they have a splashy holiday party to attend, the way they used to when Paddy worked for Everlast Investments. Jennifer bought a red velvet slip dress, as well as a pair of red stilettos from Jimmy Choo at Copley Place. This party will be buzzworthy—the Globe and Boston Common are coming to cover it. All of the show’s sponsors are invited as well as the glittery stars of Boston’s social scene. Jennifer was able to invite Derek and Leanne, which is good because Jennifer will need to see friendly faces. Danko will attend, obviously, as well as Real-Life Rehab’s director, a thirtysomething woman named Layla, who is also a former addict, she confided. In her case, it was cocaine and Valium.

  “One to pump me up,” Layla said. “One to bring me down.”

  Jennifer said, “I understand only too well.” Still, Jennifer marveled because Layla was even younger than Jennifer. She had unlined black skin, cornrows, the cheekbones of a supermodel, and a degree from Harvard Business School.

  On the night of the party, the network sends a car service to pick up Jennifer and Patrick. Alyssa, who is babystting, and the three boys crowd by the bay window to ogle at the car out on the street.

  “Be careful of the tree,” Jennifer says. She has been so busy with preparations for the show—she meets Danko and the architect, Matthew, and the contractor, TF, at the house in Dorchester every day—that her own Christmas decorations, which are usually quite lavish, have suffered somewhat. She opted for a slightly smaller tree and used only three thousand of her five thousand ornaments. Christmas Lite, she’s calling it this year.

  “It seems silly, sending a car,” Jennifer says. “The Mandarin isn’t that far. We could have walked.”

  “Let’s enjoy it,” Patrick says. He buttons his overcoat and slips Jennifer’s wrap over her shoulders.

  “Bye, kids!” Jennifer calls out. “Bed by ten!” She takes Paddy’s arm and descends the steps of their townhouse to the waiting car.

  “Good evening, Ms. Quinn,” the driver says.

  When the car pulls up in front of the Mandarin Oriental and Jennifer steps out, photographers snap her picture.

  “I can’t believe this,” Jennifer says to Paddy. She fears that Patrick might take issue with his role as her arm candy. After all, in their former life he was the breadwinner, the big deal; Jennifer was resolutely “the wife,” who did some interior decorating in her spare time. But Patrick is beaming; unless he’s putting up a very good front, he couldn’t seem happier.

  He offers one of the photographers his hand. “I’m Mr. Jennifer Quinn,” he says. “But you can call me Patrick.”

  They are escorted to a ballroom that is completely decked out for the holidays. There’s a huge tree, swags of garland, white lights, electric candles, and a three-part jazz combo with a scantily clad woman crooning “Merry Christmas, Baby.” Servers circulate with trays of cocktails in champagne flutes. The cocktail is called a Santa Baby and is made with champagne, St-Germain, and blood orange juice. Patrick takes two flutes, one for Jennifer and one for himself.

  “Cheers to you,” he says.

  “They spared no expense,” Jennifer says. There’s a raw bar set up in a wooden dory, and next to the raw bar are tiered trays of crudités and cheeses, and next to that is an elaborate spread of sushi.

  “There she is!” Danko swoops in, wearing jeans, a white shirt, and a Robert Graham velvet blazer. “You look gorgeous,” he says, kissing Jennifer’s cheek and simultaneously fist-bumping Patrick. “You both do. Ready to circulate?”

  “Circulate?” Jennifer looks at Patrick.

  “You go,” Patrick says. “I’ll find you in a little while and we’ll get some food.”

  She is the luckiest woman in the world, with the most supportive partner. “I’m ready to circulate,” she tells Danko.

  Everywhere she goes, people fawn. The men kiss her hand, and the women squeal, especially the Millennials, all of whom, Jennifer supposes, watch SinTV and are anticipating a big hit. Jennifer feels like a real celebrity—but all she has done so far is film half a day’s promotional material in which she wore AG cigarette-leg jeans, a black scoop-neck bodysuit, and black suede Gucci loafers, which will be her “uniform” on the show. It’s professional, classy, simple—or, as Danko says, “the essence of Jennifer Quinn.” She also wore bright-red lipstick in all the photos. The shade is Gabrielle from Chanel’s Rouge Coco collection, and Chanel has already promised Jennifer a lifetime supply of the shade.

  She meets up with Layla, who is stunning in a silvery-lavender sequin sheath and black cage stilettos, and there are more photographs.

  “If only our dealers could see us now,” Layla says.

  As if on cue, Jennifer spies Norah Vale across the room. Jennifer wants to go over and say hello and thank her again—because look what a big deal this is! Jennifer has money, a new career, a fresh start. She is going to be on TV every week, she is going to be famous—and all thanks to Norah.

  Jennifer has given a lot of thought to her interaction with Isabelle over Thanksgiving. She is sorry that Isabelle feels hurt by Jennifer’s continuing relationship with Norah, but she isn’t sure what to do about it. Should Jennifer have turned the show down because Isabelle feels insecure?

  Jennifer meets people from Gucci and Chanel and Adriano Goldschmied and Hermès. The painfully elegant French woman from Hermès mentions that they’d like her to wear their watch as well and maybe the occasional scarf.

  Yes! Jennifer thinks. Yes! Yes! Yes!

  Next Jennifer meets the head of SinTV, Victor Huggins, known to all as Huggy. Jennifer sees Derek and Leanne talking to Natalie Jacobson, formerly of Channel 5 news, but she’s afraid to excuse herself from Huggy. He’s the boss! Huggy introduces Jennifer to Heidi Watney and Jason Varitek. Where is Patrick? He’s going to die! Jennifer then meets a man named Ellis, who gives Jennifer his card. He owns a speakers bureau. He can get her five-figure speaking fees if she’s willing to talk about overcoming her addiction. Has she done much public speaking?

  “Not really?” Jennifer says. The only place she ever talked openly about the pills was in her support group. And just as Jennifer is thinking this, she sees Sable approaching. Sable led Jennifer’s group; she’s the reason for Jennifer’s recovery.

  If Jennifer tells Sable this, however, Sable will say that Jennifer is the reason for Jennifer’s recovery.

  “Sable!” Jennifer says.

  “I’m so proud of you, sweetie,” Sable says, pressing Jennifer’s hands between her own. “You are going to help so many people.”

  Am I? Jennifer wonders. If she helps one person, if she provides even one person with hope where before there was only
despair, then this whole thing will be worth it. The champagne and the car service are nice. Never having to buy lipstick again is nice; five-figure speaking fees are nice. But helping other people who are as lost now as Jennifer was is the Reason.

  Before Jennifer can feel too self-congratulatory, she comes face-to-face with the one person she hoped never to see again: Grayson Coker.

  Danko says, “Jennifer Quinn, may I introduce you to Grayson Coker, CEO of Boston Bank. Boston Bank just signed on as the show’s presenting sponsor.”

  Jennifer raises her champagne flute to her lips, but the Santa Baby is gone.

  Danko takes the flute. “Let me get you a refill,” he says. “I’ll be right back.”

  Grayson says, “Hello, Jennifer.”

  Jennifer puts a hand up to shield her cleavage. Why did she wear such a revealing dress? She feels positively naked, naked and blindsided. Boston Bank came on this week as the presenting sponsor? This week?

  “Grayson,” she says. She refuses to call him Coke. “Thank you for your support.”

  “I only pledged the bank’s commitment once I saw you had been named as host of the show,” he says.

  What? Jennifer thinks. She knows she shouldn’t be surprised. Lots of companies wait until a show’s host has been named before they commit, but this feels very awkward.

  “I owe you an apology,” Grayson says. “I’m sorry about what happened in the penthouse. That’s not why I’m supporting the show, however. I’m supporting the show because I think it’s going to be a winner. And I grew up in Dorchester. Went to South Boston High School. The show sends a strong message.”

  Jennifer nods. “Apology accepted,” she says. She scans the ballroom over Grayson Coker’s shoulder, looking for Patrick. She needs Patrick here right this instant. Instead she sees a very tall, milky-skinned redhead coming toward them. The redhead snakes an arm around Grayson Coker’s shoulders and leans in.