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“But the early Christmas dinner became a tradition, and we all protected it, so that we could at least come and celebrate Christmas with Alec. It was important to us that we be there for him, so that he knew he had family that cared.”
“That’s why Emma and George invited us, too,” Dorothy said. “We had Michael, and since Michael was an only child and Alec was an only child, let’s get the boys together to make Christmas more fun.” Dorothy fell silent. “So many years ago now. And yet here we are, two widowed ladies, showing up every year, even though we’re probably not wanted.”
Cara glanced from Dorothy to Emma and back to Dorothy. “I have a feeling you’re very wanted. Alec told me what an important tradition the family dinner is.”
When neither of them spoke, Cara used a spatula to break a brown cookie away from the tray. She took a little bite. It was crunchy and full of ginger spice, and even burnt, good. She suspected it would be even better dipped in a glass of cold milk. “And not that anyone asked me,” she continued, “but I love that you’re here. I don’t know what I would have done without some aunts to make the holidays festive and fun. I love my aunts, and they always help my mom in the kitchen. We’re all very close.”
“Which is why you’re here for Christmas,” Alec said, entering the kitchen.
Cara threw a pot holder at him. “It’s not my fault that the holiday cottage had an expiration date. If I didn’t come now, it wouldn’t have been available later.”
He deftly caught the pot holder, and crossed to the stove where the tray of burnt cookies rested. “Oh dear, is this a precursor to dinner?”
Cara shrugged. “Thought it was important to set expectations low.”
He broke part of a cookie in two and tried a piece. Cara could hear the crunchiness as he chewed.
“Be careful not to break a tooth,” she teased.
“A very real possibility,” he agreed.
The timer on Cara’s phone sounded, a jangle of bells, and she turned it off and took the pot holder to lift the cookie sheet out of the oven. The cookies were set around the edges but still a tiny bit soft in the middle. “How do these look?” she asked, showing the aunts the tray.
“Much better,” Emma said.
“Perfect,” Dorothy said. “They’ll crinkle up as they cool.”
“Nicely done,” Alec said, taking the other half of the broken cookie. “I’m looking forward to tea,” he added before disappearing.
They all watched him go.
“He seems to be in a good mood,” Emma said, tone thoughtful.
“He does,” Dorothy agreed. “It’s nice to see him smile. He has a lovely smile.”
Cara glanced toward the kitchen door, wondering how much of their conversation Alec might have heard. “Do all children in England go to boarding school?”
“Oh, no,” Emma said. “It’s something select families do because it’s the tradition. Alec went to Eton because his father, and his grandfather, and his great-grandfather, all went there. I think the Sherbourne men have attended for hundreds of years.”
“Hundreds?” Cara repeated.
“It’s a very old school,” Dorothy said. “Founded in the 1400s, I believe. Extremely prestigious. Some children are enrolled when they are seven or eight, but Alec was sent off when he was just five. Far too young, in my opinion.”
“He was too young,” Emma said softly. “I just wish I’d known he was so unhappy. William never mentioned it.”
“We should have all known,” Dorothy said. “Especially when we realized that Alec spent most of his weekends and holidays at school. I’ll never forget the moment when Cedric told me Alec only returned for Christmas and summer, and that during the term, no one visited him at school. Other boys would have family visit. I had my son home all the time, or I’d pop up to see him at school, and when Michael did go to university, I’d go to take him to dinner, bring him some biscuits and chocolates. Remind him I loved him. Alec had none of that, and I don’t blame your brother, Emma, William wasn’t cut out to be a single parent. He was doing the best he could.”
“I should have been more involved, but William—like my father—can be quite intimidating. I didn’t think it proper to interfere, but in hindsight, I should have made more of an effort.”
“Things are so different now, and that’s good,” Dorothy said. “Our parents’ generation wasn’t very affectionate. It was the whole British stiff upper lip. They’d lived through one, possibly two, world wars, and discipline and sacrifice were instilled into all of us.” Dorothy looked at Cara, adding, “We weren’t kissed and cuddled, and we weren’t taught to kiss and cuddle our children. Affection was viewed as a weakness. Cedric and I made the decision to raise Michael differently, but sometimes I think we were the exception, at least amongst our peers.”
Cara had been listening in silence, fascinated by this glimpse into a culture very different from her. She felt lucky she had been raised differently. Her parents had been affectionate. Herbrothers and sister were affectionate, too. Her family had been very supportive of her. Of course, there had been some difficult years when she was little and no one understood why she wasn’t doing well in school when the Roberts children always did well, but then she finally was diagnosed with a learning disorder. Once everyone understood, her family rallied around, and she had been grateful for that, although being nonacademic in an extremely academic family remained challenging, but the challenges had made her open-minded and strong, virtues she’d never regret.
*
Based on theninety minutes baking with the aunts, Cara was lulled into thinking the rest of the day would go as well, but just as she was helping Dorothy prepare tea for everyone, Uncle Frederick’s voice rang out, a shout of pure frustration.
Cara straightened and looked at Dorothy and then without saying a word, she rushed from the kitchen and headed to Frederick’s bedroom suite but he wasn’t there. She wasn’t certain where to go next when she heard a salty oath coming from one of the smaller drawing rooms reserved for family.
