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Not long after Van’s baby was born, Charlotte was allowed to hold him. At just seven pounds, he kept his eyes closed, and his fingers and toes wiggled slightly as though he was trying to get used to being out in the air. He was soft, slightly red, and impossibly adorable. Charlotte’s eyes were heavy with tears that she blinked away.
Van was exhausted, as was her right. Not long after the birth, she fell asleep, as did her baby. By contrast, Charlotte felt jumpy and exhilarated, as though it were up to her to remain awake and make sure Van and her baby were safe. It took all her strength to force herself into the hallway and grab a cup of coffee from the vending machine. From there, she paced the waiting room, thinking about her daughter, alone in that moldy Brooklyn apartment with her new baby. That gorgeous, tiny baby. He couldn’t live there! It just wouldn’t do.
As morning light crept across Brooklyn streets, casting everything in grays and pinks, Charlotte was struck with an idea. Perhaps it was the result of her lack of sleep; perhaps it was absolutely insane. But before she knew what she’d done, she had her phone to her ear, and it was ringing.
It was no surprise that Louise Summers was awake already. At sixty-eight, she got up every morning at four-thirty, did a Pilates workout, and ate a bowl of oatmeal. She was the most regimented woman Charlotte knew.
“Hello?” Louise sounded annoyed.
“Mom. Hi. It’s me. It’s Charlotte.”
Louise made a strange noise in her throat. “What’s happened?”
Charlotte leaned against the waiting room wall, her heart pounding. It was true she hadn’t called in months. Decades of resentment shimmered in her mother’s tone.
“Van had her baby,” Charlotte offered.
Louise’s voice softened. “Is that so?”
“It’s a boy,” Charlotte went on, surprised at how joyful she felt in telling her mother the news. “She did great.”
“I’m not surprised. That girl is strong,” Louise said.
Charlotte was quiet for a moment. Out on the sidewalk in front of the hospital, a squirrel leaped through the sharp chill of the morning, his belly bulging from overeating before hibernation.
“He doesn’t have a name yet,” Charlotte continued.
“That will come.”
Charlotte sniffed and pressed her forehead against the chill of the window. Fatigue washed over her life in ocean waves, rolling up and back down, so she had the sensation of floating through time.
“Grant left her, Mom. I can’t stand it.” Charlotte clenched her teeth. “Just days before the birth of his son.”
Louise was quiet. Charlotte could feel everything Louise was thinking, her heavy judgment, and she tried not to resent it. There wasn’t time for another argument, not now.
“I was wondering,” Charlotte went on, “if the Summers family is coming to the Cherry Inn this Christmas? It would be nice to take Van and the baby there. Maybe it would get Van’s mind off things here in the city. And you know, Van never spent a Christmas at the Cherry Inn. I’ve always hated that.”
Louise made another noise in her throat, one that Charlotte translated as,that’s your fault, not mine.
“It would just be nice,” Charlotte went on. “Wouldn’t it?”
Finally, Louise spoke. “We don’t do Christmas at the Cherry Inn anymore. Didn’t I tell you that?”
Charlotte’s heart skipped a beat. “You didn’t mention that.”
“Well, it’s hard to remember what I’ve told you and what I haven’t,” Louise said flippantly.
Charlotte swallowed the lump in her throat. “Maybe I’ll call Grandpa and ask him to set aside two rooms for us. It sounds nice to take Van and the baby out of the city for a while.”
“The city is no place for a baby,” Louise affirmed, which was yet another judgment. Charlotte had raised both of her children in the city. Louise had never approved. “But most of the rooms at the inn aren’t suitable for a baby, either.”
This surprised Charlotte. “What do you mean?”
“Life has gone on without you here in White Plains, Charlotte,” Louise said. “Your grandmother is gone; your grandfather is getting up there. The inn isn’t what it used to be.”
“I thought Grandpa hired that hotel manager a few years ago? I thought sales were looking up?”
“It’s impossible to keep an up-and-coming hotel manager in a tiny place like White Plains,” Louise said matter-of-factly. “You should understand that. You left. Remember?”
