Page 12 of The Holiday

Sunday gives a groan of aggravation. “Okay, okay, Ebenezer Scrooge. Have it your way.”

“What’s going on at your house today? How did you get away from all the holiday prep?” Ruby pulls more stacks of books from the box.

“The girls are baking, and their men are watching Owen, so I thought I’d come over and say hi on my way to the grocery store.”

Ruby can hear something in her best friend’s voice; a note of uncertainty or some slight hint that she’s got something on her mind. She stacks the rest of the books and stands up, wiping her hands on the front of her jeans. “What’s on your mind, Sun?” Ruby squints at Sunday as she looks more closely at her face. “Other than the baking and the rumors of snow, what’s tickling your brain today?”

Sunday exhales and visibly deflates. She tosses her purse on the front counter and her shoulders fall. “Ruby, I have to tell someone. It’s killing me to keep it bottled up, but I’m not ready to talk to my girls just yet.”

Ruby waves for Sunday to follow her through the store, which is currently empty, and they sit in two upholstered wingback chairs, facing one another right smack in the middle of the bookshop. “Okay,” Ruby says urgently, leaning forward. “Tell me everything. Is it Banks? Your health? What is it? Did Peter do something crazy?” She’s legitimately worried—all of the worst possibilities flit through her brain.

Sunday waves both hands around wildly as she shakes her head. “No, no, no,” she reassures Ruby. “It’s nothing bad—although Peterisgoing to do a documentary about being a gay man?—“

“WHAT?” Ruby puts both hands to her chest. This was not what she was expecting Sunday to say. Not at all. Peter Bond doing anything that might tarnish his public reputation or that could, God forbid, benefit anyone other than himself, is a foreign concept. “I cannot believe that.”

Sunday is still shaking her head. “That’s not it though, Rubes.” She takes a deep, fortifying breath to calm them both, holding Ruby’s gaze as she does. “Banks and I are going to adopt.”

Ruby’s brow furrows. “Adopt what?”

Sunday breaks out into a loud laugh. “A baby,” she says. “He wants to adopt a child, and I said yes.”

“Oh, God. Sun.” Ruby stands and pulls her friend to her feet, enveloping her in a huge hug. “I’m sorry—my mind didn’t go right to babies for some reason!” She’s thrilled for Sunday. Absolutely ecstatic. Not to mention for Banks, who has been a devoted Secret Service agent to her for years, and also a devoted man to Sunday. Ruby’s heart couldn’t be more full at this news.

“I’m guessing our age had something to do with the fact that you thought ‘puppy’ and not ‘baby’ there when I mentioned adoption,” Sunday says, hugging her back. “But Banks and I stayed awake late last night talking in the dark, and we both think that if we found a slightly older child—maybe five or six years old—that we could give him a life and a home here on Shipwreck Key. We could be a family.”

Chills run up and down Ruby’s arms as she imagines this: Sunday and Banks and a boy of about five, walking the beach together, living in Sunday’s house, being a sweet little family. The image brings tears to her eyes and as she and Sunday let go of one another, Ruby puts her fingertips to her eyes to pat them dry. “Oh, Sun.” She shakes her head as she sniffles. “That’s incredible. Truly. That you two would do that is beyond generous.”

“Well, it hasn’t happened yet. But I think being part of the National Council for Adoption might bring me some kind of clout. And the fact that I’ve adopted twice before and put my own child up for adoption all those years ago—I certainly have plenty of experience with it. I’m hoping that counts for something and helps us move through the process quickly.”

“You would be incredible,” Ruby says loyally. “And Banks would be a wonderful father. I can see that already. I’m so excited for you guys.”

“We are too, but we wanted to get through the holidays and talk about it a bit more before telling Cameron and Olive.”

“How do you think they’ll react?”

Sunday squints her eyes as she considers this. “Oh, I guess their dad appearing in a documentary and essentially publicly coming out while their fifty-five-year-old mother adopts a baby with a Secret Service agent should keep them in therapy for another decade or so. Maybe more.”

The women laugh together, and Ruby looks around the shop, which is totally decked out for the holidays. She has a tree in the back corner of the store that’s wrapped in tinsel and lights and covered with tons of homemade ornaments decorated by the island’s school children, and the front counter has lights tacked up around its edges, as does the front window. The shabby chic chandeliers in each room of the bookstore are draped in baubles and bits, and the banister that leads upstairs to Ruby’s tiny office is wrapped in tinsel as well. She’s always loved Christmas, and now that she no longer has to adhere to the formal decorating plans of the White House staff, she lets loose on the bookshop and on her house, tossing up whatever kitschy and blingy holiday decor she feels like.

“I’m hosting a Christmas party here tonight,” Ruby says as she glances down at her jeans and sweater. “Or rather, John and Cathy Mayhew are.”

Sunday frowns. “Who?”

“They’re visiting the island—the giant yacht at the dock?”

“Right, right. I saw that.” Sunday looks around the shop. “Why here and not the Black Pearl?”

Ruby shrugs tiredly. “I guess so they can say they had their holiday party at the First Lady’s bookshop?” She raises both eyebrows. “But I don’t really mind. I’m just feeling a little rundown.”

“What can I do to help?” Sunday walks around the shop, looking from every angle. “It looks nice.”

“I need to set up a table over there,” Ruby says, pointing at the side of the shop underneath a window. “And they’re actually having it catered by the Black Pearl, so I need to be here while the servers come in and set everything up.”

“Listen, listen,” Sunday says, cutting her off. “You go home for a bit. I’ll stay here and keep the shop open, and you can shower and get ready or do whatever. What time are the guests coming?”

Ruby looks at her watch. “I’m supposed to greet the Mayhews at five, and their guests will start coming around six.”

“Great. Then leave me here to run things and you come back at five. I’ll get things set up as far as the buffet, and if anyone needs to come in and buy a Danielle Steel novel, I’ll ring them up.”

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