Elin Hilderbrand - 28 Summers

“Nooooo,” he says. “I’m staying away from women for a while. Alison was fun, Nanette was fun but a hypochondriac, and Brooke was a card-carrying psycho. Like a Glenn Close–type psycho.”

“Let’s not forget Krystel,” Mallory says. “You married her!”

“I’m attracted to head cases,” Cooper says. “Alison was an anomaly. She was normal. We broke up because of the distance but also because I felt like there was something missing…and what was missing was the crazy.”

Mallory closes her eyes. She thinks about how, when she was growing up, Cooper was her superstar big brother, and in many ways she resented him for that. Now he’s her friend and life is so much better.

“I must have been a real jerk in my past lives,” Cooper says.

“Don’t worry, you’ll find someone,” Mallory says. “There are plenty of crazies out there.”

At five o’clock the next afternoon, right before Christmas dinner, the doorbell rings.

“Mallory,” Kitty calls out, “would you answer that, please?”

Mallory’s expectations are low. She suspects it’s going to be the new tennis instructor from the country club. Kitty has been talking about setting Mallory up with him.

Mallory opens the door to find a woman—plump, nervous smile, a long shiny curtain of silver hair, funky teal cat’s-eye glasses bedazzled with rhinestones.

“Mallory,” the woman says. “My God, look at you.”

Mallory blinks. The voice—she recognizes the voice. The hair, the glasses, that smile. She knows this woman, but who is it?

Then Mallory gasps. “Ruthie!” It’s Aunt Greta’s Ruthie, Dr. Ruth Harlowe.

Ruthie opens her arms and Mallory steps right into them. Tears leak from the corners of Mallory’s eyes, not only because she’s gobsmacked by seeing Ruthie but also because, along with the pile of sweaters and CDs, this is a gift from her parents. This is the best gift Mallory can imagine.

The Gladstones may have owned Christmas Eve, but Christmas dinner belongs to Kitty. The instant that Ruthie steps inside, a cork pops. There are champagne cocktails and hors d’oeuvres in the library—clams casino and Kitty’s famous gooey Brie with pecans and sour-cherry chutney. Everyone greets Ruthie like she’s an esteemed personage, which she is, but also like she’s a complete stranger, which she is to everyone except Mallory.

Ruthie is gracious in the face of what must be a very awkward situation. She still lives in “the house in Cambridge,” she says, though she’s in the Baltimore area over the holidays visiting her nephew, his wife, and their new baby.

Ruthie isn’t afraid to suck down a couple of champagne cocktails and neither is anyone in the Blessing family. Johnny Mathis sings “Sleigh Ride”; the fire crackles. Mallory tells Ruthie about her job at the high school on Nantucket and how the gift of that cottage has changed her life. “I can’t thank Aunt Greta,” Mallory says. “But now I can thank you.”

“Greta was so fond of you,” Ruthie says. “She thought of you as her own.”

Mallory is saved the embarrassment of crying by her mother, who calls everyone into the dining room.

Standing rib roast, Kitty’s incredible creamed spinach, homemade popovers with sweet butter—and for dessert, as always, there will be a sticky date pudding with warm toffee sauce and pillows of freshly whipped cream.

Senior says grace and then Kitty raises her glass of Ponzi pinot noir. “There’s something I’d like to say.”

Oh no, Mallory thinks. All she can imagine is Kitty ruining the evening by trying to demonstrate how evolved she is now. We know other lesbians (by which she would mean Leland and Fifi) and have found them quite agreeable.

Mallory locks eyes with Cooper. If she were close enough, she would squeeze his hand until Kitty finishes blurting out whatever cringe-worthy remarks she’s prepared.

Kitty says, “Ruthie, I want to thank you for sharing in Christmas dinner with our family. We owe you an apology for all the years we weren’t as accepting as we might have been. But now, in our advanced years, Senior and I have come to the realization that love is love.” Kitty hoists her wineglass higher. “And really, there’s no explaining it.”

“Hear, hear,” Coop says, and they all touch glasses without crossing.

Mallory watches her father take a sip of his wine and then fumble for the carving knife. She isn’t at all surprised that he let Kitty do the heavy lifting here, but neither is Mallory willing to let him off the hook.

“Is that how you feel, Dad?” she says. “Love is love and there’s no explaining it?”

Senior levels a direct gaze at Mallory. Her father’s face is so familiar to her, but in this moment she sees something new in his eyes. It’s as though tiny doors are opening to reveal…an actual person.

“Yes,” he says. “I do feel that way.” And then something even more extraordinary happens: her father smiles. “Thank you for coming, Ruthie. You’ve honored us with your presence. We don’t deserve your forgiveness but we are grateful for it.”

“Merry Christmas,” Ruthie says.

Cooper is more than ready to leave Baltimore the day after Christmas, but Mallory is staying until the twenty-seventh and she has begged him not to abandon her. Can he eke out one more day, please?

Sure.

“The Bellos are hosting a cookie exchange tonight,” Kitty says. “Why don’t you two come with me?”

“Absolutely not,” Mallory says.

“What’s the point of a cookie exchange now? ” Cooper asks. “Christmas is over.”

“I think the answer to that is obvious,” Mallory says. “People want to pawn their stale cookies off on the unsuspecting.”

“Well, if you don’t have anything better to do,” Kitty says, “Regina and Bill and the rest of the neighborhood would love to see you.”

Coop’s rescue arrives when Jake McCloud calls the house to ask if Coop will meet him at PJ’s, their old Hopkins hangout, for beer and wings.

“You didn’t go to South Bend for Christmas?” Coop asks.

“Nah. Ursula’s mom came to DC. And those two are going to The Nutcracker tonight, so I’m flying solo.”

“Perfect,” Coop says. Ursula makes him nervous.

“And hey, invite your sister if she’s free,” Jake says.

“Oh, she’s free,” Coop says.

Cooper knocks on Mallory’s bedroom door. He can hear her playing “I’ve Done Everything for You,” by Rick Springfield, on her stereo and singing out, “You’ve done nothing for me!” at the refrain.

“Come in,” she says.

Coop cracks the door open. Mallory is reading in her purple shag beanbag chair, the one the whole family calls Grover. “Intervention,” he says. “Rick Springfield? Grover? You’re regressing. So you’re going out with me tonight. We’re meeting Jake McCloud at PJ’s at eight.”

Mallory sits straight up. “What?”

“I got you out of the cookie exchange—you’re welcome. We’re meeting Jake.”

Mallory says, “Is this you inviting me because you feel sorry for me? Because I don’t want to infringe on your male bonding. Or…I mean, is Ursula going to be there?”

“Ursula has The Nutcracker with her mother. Jake is taking the train up by himself.”

“To meet you.”

“To meet us, ” Coop says. “He asked for you specifically.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “He did? He said ‘Bring Mallory’ without your prompting?”

“Yes. Can you stop being such a weirdo? I’m going to break the news to Kitty.”

At quarter to eight, Mallory enters the kitchen wearing jeans, a black turtleneck, and a pair of Chucks—that’s normal—but also the new silver hoops that she got for Christmas and makeup—mascara and lipstick.