‘And how’s the lovely Fern?’ Julia smirked. ‘Still all over you like a bad rash?’
‘Yup. Braydon either doesn’t notice or likes feeling jealous. I’m beginning to wonder whether it’s some kinky game between the two of them … she hits on me, he gets jealous, then punishes her later, if you know what I mean.’
Nate laughed. ‘I’ve never met the man, but he sounds like an idiot. Then again, Fern doesn’t sound much better. Did you get rid of her when the cigars came out?’
How well they knew him. ‘Works like a charm, every time.’
‘You know,’ said Julia, ‘sometimes women just want a bit of honesty.’
Jack and Nate looked at each other, and when they both fell back laughing, Julia knew she wasn’t going to win this one and ended up giggling as they talked more about the party, the life that was so different to the one on Hollyhock Farm, the stilted atmosphere at social gatherings compared to this one with three friends totally relaxed in one another’s company.
By the time Jack left Hollyhock Farm in the early evening, armed with duct tape so he could stop off in New Haven and board up the window at his property properly, a light flurry of snow had decorated the farm. He made his way towards Hazelbrook, and as he came into town the clock stood guard like a sentry over the shops. By this time people had gone home, to wives, husbands, family, at the end of another day. Benches at either side of the road were covered in a thin layer of white from the snow which was coming down harder, creating the blank canvas that come morning would let some lucky soul be the first to make their mark in it.
Jack pulled up before he reached the end of the street. He didn’t want the day to come to an end, so he climbed out, shrugged on his jacket which, filled with duck down, was enough to tackle the worst American winter, a wool hat and a pair of gloves. A snowflake spiralling down from above kissed his nose as it fell. The rest of the snowfall shone against the honey glow of the streetlamps. A giant Christmas tree bedecked with hundreds of coloured fairy lights marked the end of the street, and other trees that come spring would have leaves and lush foliage lined the shopping strip and dazzled with the white twinkly lights wound around their trunks.
He looked up to the top of the enormous Christmas tree and beyond, let the snow settle on his cheeks. He closed his eyes, parted his lips slightly to feel the cold sensation on his tongue, and when he opened his eyes and looked up, saw the moon and stars twinkling all around him in a sky so very different to the one he was used to in Manhattan.
His mother had always said, ‘Trust in the stars, Jack,’ as though they would always show him the way, as though they had the power to change everything. But was that even possible? Would he ever find what he was looking for, without betraying his father or the memory of his mother?
