Page 23 of Christmas in Watch Hill
How wrong I’d been.
Instead of spearheading consequential bills that passed Congress with a flourish and sailed through presidential approval, I ended up mostly having dinners at fancy restaurants with congressional members who wanted to be anywhere else and attending glittering parties with people who had no intention of hearing my real message. DC was a cesspool of naked ambition more pronounced than I’d anticipated. I could never call it home, no matter what neighborhood I lived in or which connection I made.
In short, I needed this break.
My aunt Eliza opened the front door right after I parked the rental car, a big smile on her weathered face, a flowery apron wrapped around her stout body. “Well, look who we have here,” she said to my Uncle Mark. He stood a few steps behind her, holding a craft beer and wearing his signature fluffy beige cardigan. In one swift movement, she embraced me in a cloud of apple spice and talcum powder, an instant reminder of the comfort that came from being around her. “I guess the swamp hasn’t rubbed off on you too bad.”
“Bad enough. I’m almost an alligator.”
She laughed into my shoulder. “Probably shouldn’t hug you too hard, then.”
“Don’t worry. I won’t bite.”
I moved from her hug to Mark’s, greeting him with contentment, too. They weren’t my parents, but they were close enough to it; they’d been there for me since my mother died. They helped me bury her, sell her home on the west side of Cincinnati, and untangle her massive medical bills. I could never repay them.
Mark took my coat and Eliza showed me to the guest bedroom, where I dropped off my duffel bag and briefcase, not sure why I had bothered to bring work with me on this trip. The farther away I was from Washington, the less I wanted to fire up the laptop and answer emails.
After a few minutes of relaxing on the bed, I wandered downstairs toward the smell of warm apple muffins wafting from the kitchen. Eliza stood in front of a large pot and told me she planned on making chicken stew for dinner. “I hope you’re hungry. I’m making enough to feed a football team.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Molly will be here in a few minutes.” She eyed the clock above the stove. “And speaking of football, if you want to watch some, Mark has one of the bowl games on in the den.”
“I’ll join him in a minute.” Sinking onto the wooden barstool underneath the island counter, I thought of my trip to Already Perked. “By the way, I didn’t realize Molly’s friend Jessica owned the coffee shop in town.”
“She didn’t tell you that when they visited over Halloween weekend?”
I shook my head. “We didn’t spend a lot of time . . . talking.”
“She’s run it for about eighteen months or so. I guess her bookkeeping firm did some work for the previous owner, and when he decided to retire, she insisted on buying it from him to save the business.” My aunt began removing some of the apple muffins from the cooling rack and putting them in a Tupperware container. “Jessica updated it and put a lot of work into it. Won a redevelopment award from the city council earlier this summer.”
“I wish she would have told me.”
Eliza gave me a knowing grin. “I’m sure you all had plenty of other things to do while Molly and Jessica were in the city. There’s always so much to see in DC.”
“There is.”
I chose not to elaborate, though—no need to. The truth was, Jessica and I had spent more time drinking and in bed than we had talking. There was something about the raw laissez-faireism of her trip and the no-strings-attached nature of it that had made me act that way. A one-night stand never hurt anyone. We were adults, after all.
I just hadn’t expected to see her moments after I arrived in Watch Hill. And when Molly showed up at the house, I couldn’t resist mentioning that I had seen Jessica again.
“I stopped at Already Perked when I got in,” I told her. “Great coffee.”
Molly sat on the opposite bar stool. She was two years younger than me. While that held more significance in childhood, it didn’t matter now.
“Didn’t realize that Jessica owned it,” I added.
“Jessica’s the best thing to hit that place in five years.” Molly cocked her head. “I haven’t seen her in a few weeks, but I know she’s been busy. I should text her and see if she wants to meet up with us later tonight.”
“You all are going out?” Eliza took a stack of bowls from the overhead cabinet.
“I guess we are now,” I replied.
“Sure, we are,” Molly said. “Tonight is one of the biggest bar nights of the year.”
