She remembered what Charlotte had said about their uncle, about Francesca’s brother, and how he wanted to destroy the family. Heart pounding now, Addison researched Francesca until she discovered her maiden name was Accetta. Apparently, she was the daughter of a very famous Italian film director, which was a topic for another day. Addison was almost 100 percent sure that she and Seth had watched some of his movies! Why hadn’t he told her?
But a few searches for Francesca’s brother led Addison to criminal reports across Italy, reports that she couldn’t necessarily understand beyond the general gist. It was clear that Angelo Accetta wasn’t “one of the good guys.” Now, several articles speculated that Angelo Accetta was the true “mastermind” behind the burning of the White Oak Lodge, although nobody knew where he was or how to find him.
A stewardess came by and reminded Addison to put her phone on Airplane Mode. The flight was about to take off. Addison did, double-checking her children’s seat belts as the engine rumbled beneath them. Kennedy and Penelope continued to read, but Gavin was fast asleep, his mouth open in a way that made Addison’s heart break. Her children deserved a beautiful Christmas. Maybe they all did.
When they landed in Los Angeles, Addison led her children to a little lunch spot for chicken sandwiches and cans of soda. It wasn’t every day that the kids were allowed soda, and they took their choice of flavor very seriously. Gavin ended up with a grape variety that turned his tongue purple. The girls were jealous, though they didn’t want to say so.
For over an hour, Addison laughed and chatted with her kids, grateful to be out of Hawaii and on the mainland. She’d neverthought that before, not in any of her few travels to the greater forty-eight. When she briefly turned her phone back on, she saw a text from her mother that made her heart spasm.
Mom: We miss you already. Love you. I wish you’d clue me in on what’s going on.
Her mother was no dummy. She knew. But she wasn’t sure what to do about other people’s secrets. She wasn’t sure how to carry everything in her head at once.
After they boarded the plane to Boston, Addison noticed a change in the people around them. The people were far more East Coast, more rugged-looking, with accents that reminded her of Seth.
“That guy sounds like Daddy,” Kennedy muttered to Penelope. Addison could tell that she was trying not to be overheard by their mother.
“It’s so weird,” Penelope agreed.
“Wasn’t Daddy from the East?” Kennedy asked.
Penelope shrugged and returned to her book. Maybe she’d given up on their father already.
It was only when the plane engine began to rumble again, only when Gavin drifted off to sleep again, his lips tinged purple from the soda, that Addison returned her thoughts to Angelo Accetta and his criminal backstory. Suddenly, like a jolt of electricity, she thought of her father’s emails, of this “A” character who’d threatened him for months and months.
She remembered that the bank account linked to the blackmailer was in Mexico City. She remembered that Seth had gone to Mexico to chase his uncle.
Her palms were clammy. Panic set in. But as the plane climbed into the sky over Los Angeles, she recognized that there was nothing she could do, not here on this plane. She shovedher phone into her pocket and crossed her arms over her chest, willing herself to grab a few hours of sleep. Rest never came for her. But soon, they were stretching out across the continent, preparing to land in the frigid northeast. Maybe she’d have answers soon. Maybe she’d have her husband back. Maybe she’d even find a way to forgive him. Maybe.
Chapter Nineteen
The evening after the Christmas trees were set up in both the White Oak Lodge and Francesca’s vacation home, Benjamin announced a spontaneous dinner at the lodge. The idea was that they could gather and decorate the trees in time for Christmas. As Benjamin announced it, he was exuberant, talking as though it had come to him spontaneously. But it was clear to Jack that Benjamin didn’t want to be alone tonight, that he wanted to soak up as much family time during these frigid evenings as he could. Who knew how many lonely Christmases he’d spent before this? And it was true that when all the Whitmores gathered together at the lodge, a strange and exhilarating magic swirled through the air, making it impossible to say which year it was or how much time they’d spent apart.
It was intoxicating. But it also reminded Jack of his gorgeous Christmases back in Hawaii, warm Christmases when they barbecued on the porch and went to the beach afterward. He could still hear Kennedy, Penelope, and Gavin shrieking with glee as they plunged into the waves.
He wondered if they’d decorated the living room this year. He wondered if they’d bought a Christmas tree, and, if they had,who had hauled it home for them, who had secured it in the tree stand.
With more Christmas decorations packed in her trunk, Charlotte appeared at five thirty wearing bright red lipstick and a beautiful dark green dress. She brought her boyfriend Vincent with her, Vincent from their high school days. Jack got a real kick out of that, shaking his hand and saying, “It’s great to see you again, man.” Vincent looked handsome and moneyed, every bit the successful chef he was now.
He beamed at Jack and shook his head. “It’s like plunging back through time.”
Charlotte grinned madly, then got to work, guiding Will and Fiona to the dining room Christmas tree to hang more decorations. Amos was there, fetching drinks for people, and Vincent, Jack, Amos, and Benjamin got to work on the living room tree, hanging decorations in a way that they hoped would make Francesca happy—if she managed to make it to the lodge tonight at all.
Allegra called to say it was touch-and-go with Mama. “She’s still really tired from chemo,” she explained. “But she’s going to try to pull through in time for dinner. She wants to be with everyone.”
Benjamin looked disheartened, but he thanked Allegra for the call and said, “Everything will be ready for your mother on Christmas Day. That’s all that matters.”
“She’s going to love it, Dad,” Allegra said.
Jack could just barely make out Allegra’s voice over their father’s phone. His heart felt squeezed. But he raised on his tiptoes and positioned the angel at the top of the tree, his mind flashing with images of his mother doing the same thirty-five years ago. It was remarkable how much work parents put into their children’s Christmas. This had only occurred to him when he’d become a father himself.
Nina had been busy in the kitchen that afternoon, making Christmas cookies. She brought a tray of cut-outs covered with frosting, and everyone took a break to admire the decorations they’d hung already and eat a few too many cookies. Nobody reminded anyone that they had to “watch their appetite, as dinner was coming up.” That wasn’t the point of the Christmas season.
“I can’t believe you made Mama’s recipe,” Jack said when Nina passed by with another tray.
Nina smiled. “Aunt Genevieve had a different recipe that she always used around Christmas. I never thought it was as good as it was. It broke my heart not to have Mama’s cookies over the years, so I finally figured out how to do them myself. It took a lot of trial and error.”
“They’re exactly the same,” Jack affirmed, taking another. “Mama will love them.”