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“Oh! Thanks.” Anna laughed and adjusted the cup in her hands. “Not too bad, yet.”
Worry flickered through Julia’s eyes. After Dean’s death, Julia had become Anna’s protector and sort of “life partner.” They’d certainly become better friends than they’d ever been back in the suburbs of Chicago, where Julia had raised Anna and her brother and sister. That was before the divorce and Julia’s brave move back to Nantucket. Anna had been just a typical teenager, picking fights with her mother and father while dreaming of a different life.
It wasn’t that she blamed herself for being a usual teenager. You couldn’t change the past, anyway.
“Are you getting inspired?” Aunt Ella asked playfully, smiling over her own cup of cocoa.
“I think we’d better ply her with more chocolate and treats first,” Aunt Alana said. “That’ll really help her with the article.”
“I won’t turn them down,” Anna said with a wry laugh.
Ella’s eyes danced as she took in the marvelous scene. “I hope Laura and Danny will come back here with me when they get home,” she said, referring to her son and daughter, both of whom were away at university in Manhattan. “Gosh, I’ve missed them. Laura said we call them too much from tour.” She rolled her eyes into a smile.
“I’ve been counting down the days till Henry and Rachel get here,” Julia said. “The Copperfield House will be bustling. I hope Mom will let us help her cook this year.”
Greta returned from her conversation with the French woman, brimming with joy. “Fat chance,” she said with a laugh. “Maybe I’ll let you slice a few cloves of garlic. But only if you do it my way.”
“What a control freak,” Aunt Alana teased, nudging her mother with her elbow.
Anna snapped her fingers. “That reminds me.” Her two aunts, mother, and grandmother regarded her curiously. “Dean’s mother texted me today.” Anna hated how her voice wavered when she said his name. She didn’t want anyone’s pity.
“Oh! What did Violet say?” Julia asked. She’d never met Dean’s parents, but Anna had told her everything she knew about them—which wasn’t much beyond their names and occupations.
“She said she wants to come to Nantucket,” Anna said.
“I can’t believe it’s taken her so long to visit,” Greta said, folding her arms over her chest. “Her first grandchild will be here any minute.”
Anna waved her hand. She didn’t want anyone to speak ill of Violet. The woman had lost her son.
“Is she going to stay till the baby comes?” Aunt Ella asked.
“She said ‘a few days,’” Anna offered, flapping two of her fingers for air quotes.
“She should stay,” Julia said, sounding breathless. “She’ll want to know her grandson. She’ll want to be here when it happens.”
The five Copperfield women were quiet for a moment, considering the weight of the new baby. With Dean gone and Anna giving birth to his baby in his absence, it was impossible to know how to feel. Joy was essential, as was grief.
They continued to wander through the stalls. Anna made several notes about the market in her phone app, feeling the article come to life in her mind. As she paused to type out another note about the chocolate delicacies, she heard a woman speaking in low tones to a little boy, telling him to be patient and to wait his turn. “It’s okay, baby,” the young mother said, the sweep of her hair coming over her face. The little boy, with adorable, plump cheeks, couldn’t have been more than three or four. Anna’s heart melted as she watched them. She imagined herself three or four years from now, guiding her son through the market stalls, helping him understand the magic of Christmas. She envisioned telling him about his father for the first time.
Oh, but what would she tell her son about Dean? Already, she felt as though she’d lost so much of him. Sometimes, she couldn’t even hear his voice in her head. She never told anyone this. It felt shameful.
Julia's pocket jangled with a phone call as Julia, Aunt Ella, and Aunt Alana approached with a round of mulled wine. Julia grumbled and asked Anna to hold her wine. “Just for a second.” She then retrieved her phone and blew all the air from her lungs.
“Who is it?” Anna asked.
“That client I was telling you about,” Julia said. “I have to take it.”
Anna shifted her weight nervously, trying to remember which client her mother had mentioned. Julia ran her own publishing house, which had nearly failed but risen from the ashes after Grandpa Bernard had published his bestselling novel last year. Since then, Julia had been up to her ears in book sales and successful clients. Everyone wanted to work with the great Julia Copperfield.
“Hey, Smith,” Julia began, sounding reticent. It was as though she wanted to prepare her heart for bad news.
Anna listened to Julia’s half of the conversation, gleaning that Smith wasn’t as far into the book as they’d planned.
“The thing is, Smith,” Julia said, rubbing her temple, “if we’re going to publish by next Christmas, we really need to hit these metrics. I know you know that.”
Anna’s heart thudded at her mother’s businesslike tone. She was guilty of missing a deadline or two, and she remembered the adrenaline and the guilt of it. She remembered feeling she wasn’t good enough to succeed.
“All right. If you promise,” Julia finished, rolling her eyes toward her sisters. “Take care.”
