The Wish Book Christmas Read online

  “I’m quite sure Nana Barrett will repeat her performance this Christmas. She does it every year.” Eve and Harry had spent every Christmas with the Barretts since Harry was a baby, and while she still felt uncomfortable with the extravagant generosity, she had come to expect it. Harry, of course, didn’t have any problem with it at all. Until last year, Eve had allowed the Barretts to believe she and Harry were their daughter-in-law and grandson, and it was only by God’s grace that they still wanted to maintain a close relationship with Eve after she confessed her deception.

  “Even if the Barretts can afford every toy in the Wish Book,” Audrey said, “I don’t want Bobby to grow up craving so many things—or expecting to get them. It isn’t right.”

  Eve wiped a plate dry and put it in the cupboard. “I remember being grateful for just a few simple gifts at Christmas when I was their age. I would hang my stocking on my bedpost for Father Christmas to fill, and in the morning, I’d find a doll or a toy on top . . . maybe an orange and some candy. Granny would knit new mittens or a hat for me. I learned later that Mum had saved up for months to buy me those things. She always had to work on Christmas Day, but we could spend Boxing Day together.” Eve wondered if her mum had felt the same sense of loss at missing out on her child’s life because of her need to work.

  “I remember how our gardener would cut armloads of greens and holly branches,” Audrey said, her hands submerged in the soapy dishwater. “Wellingford Hall looked and smelled so splendid. There would be a huge tree and presents to unwrap, chosen by my tutor, Miss Blake, I’m sure. Not by my parents. And we always had Christmas crackers to pop open at the table. But best of all, Alfie would be home from boarding school for a few weeks.”

  They worked in silence, Audrey scrubbing a pot with a Brillo pad. Eve supposed they were both remembering Audrey’s older brother, Alfie, and how much they had both loved him. “During the war,” Audrey said, “we were grateful if we got through Christmas without being startled out of our beds in the middle of the night by air-raid sirens, remember?”

  “Oh yes. And I remember how the American GIs would hold sprigs of mistletoe over our heads at the Christmas dances so they could steal a kiss.”

  Audrey fell silent again, and Eve knew she was thinking of her husband, Robert. “I want Harry to have lovely memories of Christmas, but I don’t think getting every toy in the Wish Book is going to accomplish it. Besides, I can’t spend wads of money on presents with my budget.”

  “My brother felt entitled to anything and everything he ever wished for, and it ruined him in the end. I don’t want that to happen to Bobby. Is there some way we can teach them not to want so much?” Audrey handed Eve the pot to dry and pulled the stopper from the sink.

  “I don’t know. I’ll have to think about it. But I agree. They need to learn that Christmas is more than getting every toy they could ever wish for.” She finished drying the pot and put it away. “That was nice of their Boys’ Club leader to help us tonight, wasn’t it?”

  “Oh, but I was so embarrassed! And I’m worried, Eve. The boys are starting to notice that the other children have fathers and they don’t.”

  “There’s at least one other family at church who lost their father during the war.”

  “That isn’t the point, really. It’s a father’s role that’s missing from their lives. Even for simple things like a ride on his shoulders. We both know what it’s like to grow up without a father’s love, and now our sons will know it, too.”

  “They have Tom Vandenberg. He’s been like a father to them.” Eve was sorry she’d mentioned Tom the moment the words were out of her mouth.

  “Do you think you’ll marry him someday?” Audrey asked. “I can tell that he loves you.”

  “I don’t know.” Eve shrugged as if it didn’t matter. But it did. “Are you going to get married again so Bobby can have a father?”

  Audrey looked away. “Let’s go to bed.”

  Chapter 2

  19 DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS

  Audrey stood at the kitchen window, staring out at the snow-covered back garden, her cup of tea untouched and turning cold. The thought of this morning’s appointment made her stomach jittery. Was she really ready to take such a huge step? She and her son had already experienced so many changes, and she had always hated change.

  Though Bobby had been too young to know the difference, their lives had been upended on that day more than five years ago when she received their immigration papers. Within hours, she’d also received a telegram from her father-in-law saying that Robert had been killed in a car accident. Unable to face coming to America without her husband to welcome her, she’d chosen to stay home at Wellingford Hall.

  Then, just a year and a half ago, her father had shocked her with the announcement that she was the product of one of her mother’s extramarital affairs and therefore he was disowning both her and her son. With no other options, she had finally come to America, to Robert’s family. And even more surprises and changes had greeted her here.

  No, Audrey didn’t need any more change. Perhaps she should think this new step through a bit more, wait a bit longer. Besides, the roads were snow-covered. Surely she could wait another day. Or a week.

  She watched as Eve rummaged through her coat pockets, searching for something. “What did I do with my gloves?” she asked. “I’m going to miss my bus and be late for work.”

  “You can borrow mine.” Audrey went to the coat hooks and took a pair from her pockets. She checked on the boys to make sure they were eating their breakfast and saw the Wish Book spread open between them on the kitchen table. Their neglected Rice Krispies were congealing in soggy lumps that no longer went snap, crackle, and pop. Audrey scooped the catalogue off the table and set it on top of the Frigidaire. “No time for that nonsense now.”

  “You said we could write a letter to Santa since we didn’t get to sit on his lap last night,” Bobby said.

  “And we will. After school. Now please eat, or you’ll miss your bus, too.”

  Eve had already left, but here she was back again, sticking her head into the kitchen. “By the way, you’re still going to the bank today, right, Audrey? You’re not going to turn coward on me at the last minute, are you?”

  “Well . . . actually . . . the roads are slippery and—”

  Eve hurried inside again, leaving the door open. “We had a pact, Audrey. You said if you did well in school this semester, you would enroll in college full-time next fall. I can take time off and go to the bank with you if—”

  “No, no . . . get going,” she said, pushing Eve toward the door. “I’m perfectly capable of going on my own.”

  “I know you’re capable, but will you go? Today?”

  “I will. As soon as the boys are on their way.” Whether she was frightened or not, she would go. After all, the bank might turn down her request for a loan, and then she could rethink her plans.

  An hour later, Audrey was feeling jittery again as she opened the massive door to enter the savings and loan. The bank on the village’s main street was a huge, cavernous place, its marble grandeur mimicking a temple to an ancient Greek god. If it had been designed to make Audrey feel small and insignificant, it was succeeding. The enormous Christmas tree that stood in the center of the lobby and the tinsel garlands spiraling up the imposing pillars did little to soften the effect. Audrey still felt a bit like the Cowardly Lion approaching the great and terrible Wizard of Oz. Her boots echoed on the marble floor as she crossed to speak to the receptionist. “Good morning, I’m Mrs. Barrett. I have an appointment to speak with a loan officer?”

  “Yes, he’s expecting you, Mrs. Barrett. Right this way.”

  Audrey peered inside the vault as she passed it, marveling at the thickness of the door and wondering what treasures lay inside the dozens of safety-deposit boxes. When she turned to follow the receptionist again, there stood Mr. Hamilton—the leader of Bobby’s Boys’ Club at church and stand-in father from the parade. She felt the blood
rush to her face.

  “Oh! H-hello, Mr. Hamilton.”

  “Good to see you again, Mrs. Barrett.” He shook her hand as the receptionist slipped away. “Please, come inside my office and have a seat.” He left a trail of cologne in his wake as he helped her with her coat and showed her to a chair. He was a ridiculously attractive man with thick, wavy blond hair that he combed back from his broad face and an impertinent dimple in his cheek when he smiled. Audrey noticed the fine quality of his tailored suit, crisply starched shirt, and expensive silk tie. Even the matching silk pocket-square peeking from his suit coat looked perfect.

  Mr. Hamilton’s clothes and demeanor triggered an avalanche of memories, burying Audrey beneath prewar images of endless dinners at posh establishments, dancing to string orchestras with languid, boring men who took their upper-class life entirely for granted. Audrey’s mother, the daughter of an earl, had been determined that Audrey find a “suitable match.” How thankful Audrey was that instead, she’d found a kind and loving husband in Robert, someone who shared her dreams and goals.

  “I see you survived the Santa Claus Parade,” Mr. Hamilton said. The images vanished, leaving only the memory of last night’s embarrassment after her son had asked this man to be his father.

  “Ehm . . . yes. Thank you for taking time to help the boys last night. It was very kind of you.”

  “Bobby’s a great kid. He was a little shy around the other boys in the club, at first—quite the opposite of his friend Harry. But he’s starting to participate more.”

  “He enjoys it so much. Eve and I are happy they have a chance to be with other boys their age and with . . .” With a male role model. Audrey didn’t finish.

  Mr. Hamilton broke the awkward silence. “I knew your husband, Mrs. Barrett. Everyone in town knew Bob, in fact. I’m so sorry for your loss. And for Bobby’s, too. It was a terrible tragedy.”

  “Thank you.” Audrey hoped he would change the subject, but he continued on.

  “I was a year ahead of him in school, but the Famous Four, as he and his group of friends were called, dominated every sport from baseball to basketball. I played football with them. The American game, not what you British folk call football.”

  “Yes. I understand that it’s an entirely different game.”

  “I was one of the big guys who tackled our opponents. Bob was the quarterback. He had a powerful throwing arm.”

  Audrey cleared the knot from her throat, angry with herself for still getting emotional whenever someone talked about Robert. She wanted to change the subject. “Do you have a kindergartner, too? Is that why you’re leading their Boys’ Club group?”

  “I’m not married. The church is always looking for leaders, so I volunteered because I enjoyed Boys’ Club myself as a boy.”

  “How lovely. Ehm . . . perhaps we should get down to business?” she said, clearing her throat again. “I wanted to explain why I’m applying for this loan. It’s a bit complicated, you see—”

  “Maybe I can spare you by saying that I already know a bit about you. You’re British, which is obvious from your charming accent—and I understand that Bob married you when he was stationed over there during the war.”

  “I was still in England when I received the news about his accident, and so I decided to remain there. In the meantime, my friend Eve Dawson . . . well . . .”

  “This is a small town, Mrs. Barrett, and I golf at the country club. Everyone knows what happened.”

  “Believe me, it’s all in the past now. Eve and I are sharing the house Robert built for me and working together to raise our sons.”

  “Not everyone would be as forgiving as you’ve been.”

  “Eve is my best friend.” Audrey’s voice turned sharp, her words clipped. “I won’t say anything bad about her. And I have no patience with anyone who does speak ill of her.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean—”

  “What Eve and I would both like very much to do is to put it all behind us and start over again. We considered moving to a different town where no one knows us, but we felt it would be unfair to Robert’s parents to take their grandsons away. They consider Harry every bit as much their grandson as Bobby. They’ve been very generous to Eve and me.”

  “I admire your courage for picking up stakes to start over in a new country.”

  “Yes, well, neither of us had a choice, really. Anyway, since you already know the details of my situation, let’s talk about the loan, shall we?” She knew she sounded cold and stiff, but there was something about his expensive suit and the casual way he talked about golfing at the country club that put her off.

  “Of course.” He folded his hands on the desk and waited as if afraid to speak and offend her again.

  “I plan to pursue a degree in nursing, and I would like to attend the junior college full-time in the fall once Bobby is in school all day. The loan would cover my tuition and other expenses for the two-year program. I plan to repay the loan after I graduate and find a job.”

  “How did you become interested in nursing?” The question threw her off stride for a moment.

  “Eve and I enlisted in the Auxiliary Territorial Service during the war and drove ambulances. We were taught the basics of first aid, and I found I quite liked helping people. I believe it will be a suitable career that will allow me to support my son and myself in the future.”

  He looked at her for what seemed like a very long time without speaking. She found it unnerving not to know what he was thinking. She could only imagine that he, like most other men, disapproved of careers for women with small children.

  When his silence became awkward, she pulled the papers she’d brought with her from her purse. “I have the deed to the home Robert built for me, which I hope to use as collateral. The home is mortgage-free and the deed is in my name. This second page shows the combined fees for tuition and other expenses, such as textbooks and laboratory fees, for the two-year nursing program.” She slid the papers across the desk, and when Mr. Hamilton leaned forward to take them, she got another whiff of his cologne. Her longing for Robert nearly overwhelmed her. “You’ll see that I’ve listed the starting salary for nurses at the regional hospital and for other places that are currently hiring nurses.”

  “You’re very thorough.” He laid the papers down and folded his hands on his desk again. “Forgive me if I’m being too forward, Mrs. Barrett, but I know your husband’s father quite well. My family and his have done business together at this bank for years. My grandfather was one of its founders, and the Barretts were principal investors. The trust fund they set up for Robert, which I understand belongs to you and your son now, is administered through this bank.”

  “I’m aware of that. It’s why I came to this bank first.”

  “Then you must know that there’s no need to mortgage your home. Surely your husband’s family would sponsor your education with an interest-free loan?”

  Audrey looked away for a moment. “I had hoped not to go into this . . . but I’m afraid the Barretts don’t understand my desire for a career. Especially in a field like nursing, which they consider common and undignified.”

  “They said that?”

  She stared at her lap, remembering her father-in-law’s words and the rejection she’d felt as he’d dismissed her aspirations with a wave of his hand. She also remembered driving to the devastated city of Coventry after a night of relentless Nazi bombing and offering badly needed help to its suffering people. She could have stayed safe in Wellingford Hall that morning, but she had vowed not to turn away from need, to make her life count.

  “Mr. Barrett expressed his displeasure when I mentioned nursing and was quick to point out that none of the other young mothers at your country club have careers. I think he and Mrs. Barrett are hoping I’ll change my mind and settle down to live off their very generous trust fund. But I have no wish to fill my days with shopping trips and luncheons and tennis matches.”

  There was something in Mr. Hamilton�
�s expression that Audrey couldn’t interpret, almost as if he was trying not to smile. It made her furious. “Robert and I made many plans for how we would live after the war, and neither of us wanted a life of pointless leisure. Like Robert, I was also raised with wealth and privilege, and my experience was that it was an empty life. During the war, everyone worked together to help save England, rich and poor alike, and no job was too demeaning. I felt I finally was able to make a contribution and do some good in this world.”

  “Your mother-in-law is involved with several charities—”

  “Mrs. Barrett may do whatever she likes with her money. I didn’t earn the money that’s sitting in your bank in my name, Mr. Hamilton. Besides, I want to serve people with my own two hands, face-to-face, not by writing a cheque. Robert would be very disappointed in me if I adopted the leisurely life that he had decided to break away from. It was our intent to be independent of family wealth. To work hard and make our own way. To teach our son to work hard.”

  “I see.”

  She could tell nothing from his expression. “I’m afraid my words are coming out all wrong, and I’m giving the impression that I’m judging the Barretts and condemning the way they live. If so, please forgive me. That’s not at all what I intended. It’s just that I want to make my own choices, and this is what I’ve chosen to do.”

  “I understand.”

  Did he? Audrey wondered if she’d overstepped some invisible boundary and had been too strident and judgmental, as if she’d been trying to change Mr. Hamilton to her way of thinking. She drew a breath to calm herself. “I’m sure you’re very busy, and here I am going on and on. You don’t need to hear all the reasons behind my decisions but simply to know that I would like to apply for a loan using my home as collateral.” Then another thought occurred to her. “I never considered that you may not wish to damage your bank’s relationship with Mr. Barrett by giving me a loan behind his back, so to speak. I’ll understand if that’s the case, and I’ll apply at a different bank—”