Page 50 of The Christmas Letters
I chuckle. “No kissing yet. But I hope there will be soon.”
I tell her everything. How I met Tess. Then ran into her on the beach, then again at the toy drive tonight. Then I list out the reasons why I believe Tess and my Christmas pen pal are the same person. I even mention running into Daisy Mae at the ice cream shop and how much itdidn’timpact me to see her. It was unnerving at first, but then I realized how little power she holds over me now.
The only thing I don’t reveal to Grandma Pearl is my reason fornotcalling Tess when we first met. But she knows me too well, and she pieces the details together anyway. “You say Tess is a Ravenel?” she asks. “Is her father James Ravenel?”
“I don’t know. I know he’s an attorney though.”
She nods. “Probably James, then.”
“You know him?”
“Not really. But I knowofhim. His wife is very involved in the Southern Society, and Shelby has mentioned them both a time or two.” Gran levels me with a discerning stare. “Is that why you didn’t call her at first? You thought she would be just like Daisy?”
“At first, yeah. But Tess is different.”
She nods and smiles, her eyes sparkling with an enthusiasm that makes her seem much younger. “It really is likeYou’ve Got Mail.”She reaches over and pats my arm. “You make a marvelous Tom Hanks.”
I grin. “You called it, Gran. I shouldn’t have been so dismissive.”
“You’re right about that. You shouldn’t have been,” she says, but then her expression turns thoughtful. “Does Tess know that it’s you? That you and Max are the same person?”
I shake my head no. “I don’t think so. At least not that she’s let on.”
Grandma Pearl nods. “But you think she’ll be happy when she finds out?”
The question gives me pause. Based on our interactions tonight, I’d like to think Tess would be happy, but I can’t truly know for sure.
“Listen to me, Drew,” Gran says. “I believe you when you say that Tess is different. And it sounds like fate worked double time to make sure the two of you found each other, bringing you together both through your workandthe letters. But you need to be aware, honey. There will be some bumps in the road. She’s a Ravenel. Her family will have expectations, and they might not believe you’re capable of providing what they believe their daughter deserves. Not unless you decide to toss around a little of that money you’re sitting on.”
I think back to Tess’s letters and the way she talked about wanting to provide for herself instead of relying on a spouse. I respect her desire to make her own way in the world, but I also understand what Grandma Pearl is saying. I experienced enough judgment from Daisy’s family that it isn’t hard to imagine. But the hardest part about Daisy’s family was that she never seemed to care when they were hard on me. It always felt likemeagainst them instead ofusagainst them.
Will it be the same way with Tess?
The question isn’t reason enough not to see Tess again. But that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t be cautious. Trust fund aside, wedocome from different worlds. And her family’s expectations will be different than mine.
It’s funny though. When Daisy was critical of my job or my lifestyle or my modest apartment, it only made me dig my heels in more. I could have “impressed” her. Mentioned my investment portfolio, spent money on her, taken her to fancy restaurants. But I didn’t want to. I wanted her to accept me for who I was choosing to be regardless of my bank account balance. I wanted to be enough as I was.
But even though my relationship—can I even call it a relationship yet?—with Tess is new, it already feels different. There’s an authenticity to her that was missing with Daisy, and it makes me feel confident that she alreadydoesaccept me as I am. That makes mewantto spend money on her. Do whatever it takes to impress her family. To win them over.
“I get it,” I say to Grandma Pearl. “And I’ll keep that in mind.”
She holds my gaze for a long moment. “And you’ll consider using the money to better your life and the lives of people you love?”
I’m not ready to call it love just yet, but the certainty settling into my soul tells me the potential is there. “I’ll consider it,” I say, making Gran smile.
“Well that’s good,” she says. “Because you’ve been incredibly prideful about your humility. There’s nothing wrong with having money, Drew. It’s how you use it that matters.” She lifts her hand and taps it against her chest. “It’s what’s in here.”
I lean forward and prop my elbows on my knees, my head resting in my hands. “Logically, I know that,” I say. “But sometimes it still feels like…I don’t know. Like blood money.” I’ve talked to Grandma Pearl about my feelings dozens of times. But I’ve never spoken so plainly.
She frowns. “Blood money? What does that even mean?”
I shrug. “It’s the money that killed them, isn’t it?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Drew. You better explain this instant so I can scold you and tell you how wrong you are.”
I drop back onto the sofa, suddenly feeling incredibly tired. This whole conversation has caught me off guard, but something in my gut urges me on—some need to finally own my darkest thoughts out loud.
“They diedsailing,Gran.Sailing.Why did they need a sailboat? Why did they suddenly need to learn if not to impress all their new friends at the sailing club? Our life was fine before they made all that money. We were happy doing normal stuff on the weekends. Going to the beach. Paddle boarding. Catching crabs. Fishing off the pier. But then everything changed when Dad sold his business. The little stuff didn’t matter anymore. They were too busy hobnobbing with important people and shopping for boats.”
